#not bound to a routine of constant hard work and not bound to one where i dont really do anything

[hauntedvintagelight]

Man jambound ended, it feels so odd, something I looked forward to reading every few days has concluded. I'm happy it's not fully the end and jamma still has plans for pv and shmilk.

That whole chapter tho, reading it I could tell this was the last chapter, the bittersweet slowly became sweeter. Smilk getting his own house, lady milk crown cookie still pissed off at him, I'm gonna miss lady milk crown cookie. I'm so happy to see shmilk accepted by everyone and how warm he feels not being bound to a purpose, revenge but simply allowed to live the rest of eternity peace.

Shmilk considering kids was a shock lol. Man writing this out I miss jambound even more. Will definitely enjoy rereading it, I'll even try drawing out scenes that I like.

(≡・x・≡)

[yeollie-plz]

Cat and Mouse

A post for @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the Pedrostories Secret Santa event!

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: Joel hates you. You hate Joel. But maybe you don't?

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: not really any Ellie, Christmas themes, hatred, mentions of alcohol, miscommunication

All gif credits to owners!

Winter in Jackson was cozy. Fires burned and snow padded the ground. Although, Christmas had lost a bit of it's magic after the outbreak, everyone in Jackson worked hard to still bring a bit of warmth to the holiday season.

There were parties and gift exchanges. Most gifts were handmade but that meant more anyways. This year they decided to have a "Secret Santa" event and you got the worst possible option. Joel Miller.

The man was impossible. Cold, calculated, and didn't really give a damn about anyone but himself. And, maybe, his brother. Besides not knowing what to get him, you never really liked the man to begin with.

And it seemed the sentiment was equal, because anytime you were near him he'd seem to distance himself or brush you off like you didn't exist. That was the beginning of your loathing of Joel Miller. His constant obsession with pretending you weren't standing right there. Like you weren't actively trying to have a conversation with him.

Then there was the looks. The sideways looks he'd give you, then when you'd notice them he'd scoff and look away like he hadn't just been boring holes into the back of your neck.

It was irritating, so after a few months of this cat and mouse you came to the conclusion that you in fact hated Joel Miller.

So, when you drew his name from the raggedy Santa hat Tommy was excitedly holding out to you, you couldn't help but let your face drop. Out of all the people in Jackson, why him?

Tommy seemed to notice the change in your disposition, because his smile faded as well, instead his face turned into question. You wiped the disappointment off of yours and smiled up at him the best you could muster. Trying your best to brush off what you knew would be a never ending string of questions. Tommy would never be able to understand your hatred of his brother and it wasn't worth the pushing that was bound to come.

So instead, you went to Maria, convinced that she would know what to get her brother-in-law for Christmas. But as you asked Maria, she shrugged and said that she didn't know much about him either.

"He's a secretive man." Maria said simply, as she scrubbed the dishes in her sink. You sighed at her response and left soon after.

As you made your way home you contemplated what you would do. After much thought you came down with two options: observe Joel as much as you could in the next week or attempt to talk to him.

The second option obviously wasn't your favorite option and it would be a bit suspicious. Especially because for the better part of the past year, you'd been actively avoiding him as well.

So, observing him it was.

Five days past of watching Joel Miller. You didn't think he had caught on but honestly you didn't care much. You would watch him during dinner or follow him to the bar. You kept a distance and would talk to people to make it seem less obvious.

And even after all that you were still drawing a bit of a blank. That was until tonight.

You were currently standing leaning against the wall of the bar. A glass in one hand as you watched Joel sit at the bar top. He got what he always got and sat there as silent as he always did. The man was almost too routine, too boring.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink. Just as you were bringing the glass back down you noticed Joel was no longer sitting at the bar.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced around a bit trying to see where he ran off too. That's when a gruff voice spoke right into your ear, "You've been following me, darlin'"

You swallowed harshly, it was Joel, standing right behind you, talking right in your ear. Even worse, he had caught onto your stalking. You turned around to face him.

"What?" You did your best to feign ignorance, but you knew you couldn't fool him.

He let out a half scoff and smirked at you. "Don't play dumb. I've noticed your little game. What's got you so interested little mouse?"

Now it was your turn to scoff, "Little mouse? Isn't it the cat that usually chases the mouse not the other way around?"

"Fine, sugar, lets say you're the cat. What's got you so curious?"

"Not you." You say simply and take another sip of your drink, turning back to scan the bar as if you were waiting for someone.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know?" Joel said directly into your ear again and stalked off. Leaving the bar completely and leaving you absolutely dumbfounded.

That was the most words Joel Miller had ever said to you.

The conversation somehow brought to light to what you were going to give Joel for Christmas. Although you still knew little to nothing about the man, you did have a bit of an evil idea for a gift. He was so convinced he was the cat, you were going to give him something that would solidify him as the mouse.

So now you were sat in your living room sewing together some leftover gray yarn into the shape of a mouse. This wasn't the most work you'd put into a gift before but it sure was more than you'd like to put in for Joel. But now you were determined to see the look on his face when he opened it.

Attaching a makeshift key ring to the knit mouse, you smiled at your handiwork. Eat it, Joel Miller, you are the mouse in this game.

When the Christmas party came around, you were getting a bit excited about your gift. You put it into a little box with some crafted paper bow to try and make it look a bit festive and left it on the gift table as discreetly as possible. You figured Joel would know quickly who his Secret Santa was but that didn't mean you still didn't want a bit of an element of surprise.

The party continued for about an hour as the rest of the off duty members of Jackson filtered in. When it seemed as if most had arrived, Tommy called into the crowd, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Maria patted him on the shoulder in thanks and addressed the room.

You watched as Maria gave a bit of a speech about how this past year has been, but you were too distracted by watching for Joel. He had yet to arrive and you really wanted to see the look on his face when he opened his gift.

Just as Maria was finishing her speech and beginning to explain a bit about Secret Santa, Joel slithered into the room. He slipped in so quickly you almost didn't notice. But as he leaned against the wall close to the door, you scanned his appearance.

Normally he wasn't very put together but there was something different about this Joel. His shirt seemed freshly pressed and his hair was styled a bit differently than usual. He almost looked han-

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts? Were you seriously just about to think that? About Joel Miller?

Dragging your eyes back over to Maria, you tried to distract yourself from the weird thoughts you had just had, afraid you might puke if you were to dwell on them too long. Maria finishes speaking quickly and crosses the room to the present table to help hand out the gifts.

Joel was now standing near the table, you weren't sure when he had moved, but you also didn't care. He stood on the other side of the table, eyes following you as you settled into the crowd surrounding it. His hands in his pockets as he looked you up in down.

You gave him a sideways glance, but were drawn out of it by someone calling your name. It was Maria holding out a small burlap sack to you. You took it with a grateful smile and moved back into the crowd a bit. Trying to distance yourself from the people, or Joel, you weren't too sure.

So, in your secluded corner, you untied the twine around the sack and pulled out your gift. It was a piece of whittled wood in the shape off...a cat? It was definitely a cat.

Your eyes snapped up only to be met with Joel's deep brown ones. He held up your knit mouse and shook it a bit, a knowing look donning his face.

You didn't do anything, just stood there in shock. Not only did Joel as have you as his giftee, he had given you almost the same gift. And it was as handmade as yours was.

Dropping the wooden cat back into its bag, you shoved the item into your pocket and made your way through the crowd. The minute you were met with the crisp winter air outside, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"It's cold out here, sugar." It was Joel, right behind you again. Sneaking up on you again.

"Joel." The words were almost a whisper as they fell from your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a second. He had saddled up next to you, no words broke the coldness in the air. No one looked at the other. Just the sound of breathing and the whistle in the wind.

Until he let out a sigh, "You really do hate me huh?"

"What?" You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, it just wasn't that. Yes, you hated him but you never thought you'd have to explain that to someone. Especially not him. Especially when you thought it was a mutual feeling.

"You hate me, don't you?" He said matter-of-factly, like he already knew your answer.

"I-" You stumbled over your words.

"It's alright, I already figured as much." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, Merry Christmas."

And with that he left you alone, standing there confused.

The next week, Joel was almost nowhere to be found. He barely came to eat and never came out to the bar anymore. You weren't missing him but you sure were noticing.

Half of you was nervous it had something to do with you. You never meant to hurt his feelings. No matter how much you didn't care for the man, you still didn't want him to feel hurt.

So, at the end of the week, you decided to be the bigger person and go to his house. You were both adults after all. Not everyone liked everyone and he would just have to get over that.

With a deep breath that led to a sigh, you knocked at Joel's door. And as you sat there in the cold, you almost wished he didn't answer it.

But as the door crept open and Joel came into to view, your confidence faltered a bit. His brows furrowed when he caught sight of you, obviously confused on why you were here.

You didn't give him a chance to ask and began to go through your practiced speech instead. "We are both adults. We didn't talk much before this, obviously didn't like each other but after you asked and didn't even let me answer, you've been absent. It's not like you avoiding me is anything different than before, it's just more intense this time. We are grown, we can accept the fact that we hate each other, without avoiding each other like we are some stupid high schoolers."

He gave you a minute to make sure you were done. You caught your breath, obviously saying all of that in one go. And as you gave him a look as if to finally say something, that's when he took the hint and did.

"I don't hate you."

That is not what you thought you'd hear after all that. You thought maybe he'd yell back, start some sort of argument. Or maybe even call you an idiot and slam the door in your face. But that? That was unexpected.

As if your shock was obvious, he repeated himself, "I don't hate you." This time the tone was even more serious than prior.

"What?"

He laughs this time, knowing he has to repeat himself once again.

"I don't hate you, sugar, quite the opposite actually. And I haven't been avoiding you, Tommy asked me to cover some of his shifts so I've just had a bit of a different schedule than usual."

"You-you what? Your schedule?"

He laughed at your reaction, "Yes, my schedule. Although it is very endearing you thought it had something to do with you. Trust me, darlin', if I could see that pretty face every second of the day, I would."

Now if you weren't shocked before, this would've been the frosting on the cake. You were now in a state of shock you hadn't been in since the beginning of the outbreak. Not only did Joel Miller, the center of your hatred for the better part of a year, just admitted you were alone in that hatred. But he also said you were pretty in the same sentiment.

He seemed to sense your lack of being able to form words, so he continued.

"I've never hated you. I just never knew how to handle my emotions. Didn't know how to do that even before the world went to shit, let alone now when no one can trust anyone. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable so I avoided you and trust me it was hard because sometimes I just to tell you everything."

"You-you never hated me. You never wanted to avoid me. I've hated you on my own? I spent all this time hating you over a miscommunication?"

"And you were standing there telling me not to act like a high schooler."

You gave him a warning look to which he held up his arms in surrender.

"I'm just saying, you could've came storming up to my door sooner and I wouldn't have complained. Although, I'm not sure I would've had the confidence to say all of what I just said." He looked down at his feet. You had never seen Joel Miller nervous before.

"So what you're saying is I should probably stop hating you and maybe have a conversation or two?"

"Something like that. It is Christmas time after all. Isn't that perfect time for new friends?"

"I guess it is. Alright Joel Miller, you get a second chance, don't waste it."

"I won't." His words were almost a whisper as if he didn't believe you agreed so easily.

You turned and walked down the steps that led to his front door. He watched you intently as you did.

But just as you crossed the icy path of his front lawn, you turned back around to look at him. Only half surprised to see him still standing there.

"You know?" You called out to him. "Maybe you were the cat all along."

A/N: And there she is! Another @pedrostories Secret Santa down in the books! So grateful to them for doing this once again this year! I haven't been writing this past year as much as I'd like to be but this gave me the inspo I needed to get myself motivated!

To my giftee, V, I hope you have an amazing holiday season and Christmas. I hope you enjoy this story! Thank you!

[forgedbycelest]

Do you think Jax would routinely check on Kinger and Gangle throughout the night with the worry of them abstracting? And maybe one of them sees him sneaking in or out of their rooms?

Oh for sure! I imagine he's methodical about it. He'd stay awake for an hour... maybe two after the "sun" goes down. Just to make sure he minimizes running into other characters.

But there's always room for the unforseeable scenarios, and Jax may try to be sneaky about it but he's bound to get caught whether he wants to be or not. Characters reacting to finding Jax sneaking around, below:

Ragatha

Assuming this is after the pilot episode, she wouldn't be surprised about Jax going in and out of rooms and sneaking around. I can see her squaring up with the intention of confronting Jax on the spot, assuming his intent is to torment. But curiosity softens her stride when she realizes he's just left Kinger's room with a relieved expression. And even more curious that he seems to be bracing himself to enter Gangle's room. Not one to snoop but needing answers, Ragatha politely waits for Jax to exit Gangle's room to ask, "What were you doing?" Jax would be surprised to find Ragatha, annoyed even, to be caught by her. Mostly because he doesn't want to be truly perceived by the one character who tries so hard to see the good and positive in others. He didn't need that reminder about himself. "Nothing..." He'd say a little defensively, then grin like a chesire cat. "What's Little Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes doing snooping around in other people's business?" It's a deflection tactic, one that works because Ragatha is sure to fluster about being caught snooping. He gets to avoid the topic but his gestures that night is one that's filed away in Ragatha's mind as something to pester him about another time. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Zooble

I'd like to think that Zooble is just naturally low-energy with high-empathy which is why they're seemingly constantly exhausted. They'd probably be be in their room all the time if they could help it. So it will come as no surprise to Zooble when they catch Jax sneaking in and out of Kinger and Gangle's rooms. "Again? You checked the other night too, didn't you?" Zooble's deep and raspy voice makes Jax jump out of his skin. After all the effort he took to close Gangle's door so quietly, Zooble's voice slicing through the silence scares the proverbial asshole out of Jax.

He doesn't bother to mask in front of Zooble if it's just the two of them present. Zooble doesn't normally give a shit— well, they do but they rarely made a big deal of most things which Jax appreciates. They were cool, in ever sense of the word... Except when they're the near constant victim of Caine's outlandish itinerary for the day. "Every night is different, Zoob." Jax simply answers, an easy full-bodied shrug rolling over his shoulder. Zooble eyes him for a moment, seeing the relief spelled across his face. Zooble hums, nodding. "Fair enough... want to smoke a b$@!% in my room?" They finally ask, not poking more than they need to. Another thing Jax appreciates and wonders if he even deserves. But if anyone can let slide a lot of his transgressions, it was Zooble. He could vibe with them most days, they were always such a mood too, if he was completely honest with himself (which he rarely was, at least outwardly). The tension immediately relieved, Jax lets out a laugh, "How did you get a hold of that??" "I can't tell you all my secrets, Jax." (Jax finds out later that Zooble doesn't have anything but a platic toy pipe that dispenses bubbles and it's the closest thing to a joint, unfortunately.) ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Pomni

Poor thing would definitely be sleepless the first few days, so the chances of Pomni being the one to bump into Jax in the middle of the "night" is very high. "Watch where you're going, half-stack!" came out the aggrevated stage whisper from Jax. The words 'I'm sorry' nearly leaves Pomni's lips but she swallowed her own trepidation and frowns deeply at Jax's rudeness. She was trapped in a liminal hellscape, but that didn't mean she was resigned to be a digital circus doormat for the resident jerk. "It's literally @$$ o' clock, I didn't think anyone would be walking..." she huffs, shakes her head and looks at Jax. Really taking him in, he looks less relaxed. More on edge. "What are you... even doing up?" Jax smiles tightly, it looks smug... but it also strained, "If you're not too chicken, you could follow me and find out for yourself. Or go back to your room and mind your own business." And just like that, it seemed like a challenge. Pomni thought Jax was a real piece of work but he seemed equally preturbed that she was still following him around despite his ominous invitation, so that was enough to make coming along with him seem like a win. It surprises Pomni to learn that Jax's goal was just to check on Kinger and Gangle, they were quiet for the most part. Until it was time to part ways. "Sooo..." Pomni starts, but Jax cuts her off. "Shut up, not a single word." "Okay, just one... one question." Pomni asks quickly before Jax can use his long legs to his advantage in walking away real fast. "Fine. Spit it out." "The centipede you mentioned to Ragatha?" Pomni asked, trailing off. Jax raised a brow, a genuinely smug smirk returning to his face. He seemed more natural like that, oddly enough. "I don't know where to get an ant much less a centipede, use that information how ever you want, half-stack. G'night." And with that, the rabbit hurries off. Leaving Pomni with more questions about his true character than answers.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Caine

"My, my! It's quite late for you to play a game of treasure-hunting all by yourself, Jax!" Jax had a hand to his chest, whipping around and looking up in shock. Only to find Caine floating just above him... A rare occurence for the ringmaster to be checking on any of them this late at night. "Caine! Jeezus... yeah I was, just..." Jax sighed, shaking his head. "I told you already... I'm not treasure-hunting." he muttered. Caine simply stared, patiently it seemed, with unblinking eyes betwix a row of teeth. Completely unaffected by Jax's prickly response. "But you also don't like calling it "checking in on others", you made that clear last time I caught you lurking like this," Caine smartly retorted without a hint of malice or sarcasm. Jax grunted, brows furrowing, unsure what to make of Caine. He wasn't a friend... not really, but these few little private encounters with the digital ringmaster were definitely counted for something that resembled a strange sort of friendship. "Right, I did say that, didn't I." Jax responds with a hint of ire, mildly exasperated. "You don't have to go with me, I just want to check on—" "Kinger and Gangle, yes I guessed! I want to tag along! You can't play treasure-hunts all by yourself after all!" Caine insisted cheerfully, giving Jax a conspiratorial wink of an eyeball as if to say no one else would know he secretly worried, and secretly cared. And Jax rolled his eyes in return, flustered perhaps and maybe even appreciative of the company, if he could ever admit that. "Yeah, whatever, just keep it down, will ya. You're gonna wake up the whole circus."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[writingchalamet]

History and Drama

A/n: I have been so obsessed with the idea of teacher Ross, I truly can't get it out of my head so I have to write something before I explode... This ended up being smut, which I did not intend on but my brain just got carried away so enjoy...

WC: 7.6K

Warnings: Smut, curse words, anxiety and lots of pining

You let out a soft sigh as you stand at the edge of the hall filled with students. One of the head of years was droning on about the upcoming exams for the year 11's and whilst you were supposed to maintain an enthusiastic approach to the subject you couldn't help but join the kids in their boredom as the old an babbled on. You feel a warm presence move closer towards you, then his scent is in your nostrils. You instantly know it's him and lean back almost out of instinct, feeling his chest against your back. His bearded chin leans down towards your ear and he lets out a quiet whisper not to disrupt the assembly "do you think he will ever shut up, or are we bound to this torture forever?" You let out a soft chuckle moving your hand to cover your mouth as some students sat at the very edge of the aisle turn to look your way. "I'm not sure, but if it goes on much longer I think my head might explode" he returns a subtle laugh and stands straighter again, gesturing to some boys from his form who were messing around to face the front.

The assembly was finally over and despite his classroom being on the opposite side of the school, Ross always insisted on walking with you to your drama studio claiming the walk helped 'clear his mind' before a day of teaching. You minded none the less, you were both department heads so didn't really care what people think. You reach your studio and see some of your more eager year 7's already inside with their shoes off warming up, it brings a smile to your face that they all know your routine. "So Miss S/N, I'll see you at lunchtime?" you nod your head and smile, noticing the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles back at you, staring at you for a second too long before you hear some lairy students giving a round of 'ooos' Ross sculks his way back down the corridor.

The day was flying by, but you had seemed to have misplaced some of your sixth formers essays you had yet to mark, within the piles of paperwork and stacked up books in your office, thankfully you had lunch and a free period to try and find, and mark them, but the stress was eating you inside out. The thought that you had lost your students hard work made you want to cry, you hadn't noticed the knock on the door through your erratic breath and constant shuffling. Ross stood at the door of your office watching you with a worried expression splayed across his face. You were under your desk riffling through pages muttering curse words to yourself when you bump your head on the top of the desk. In two long strides Ross is by your side, crouching down to your level, long arms extending around you, one softly stroking your head, the other lying on your back. He notices the tears in your eyes and his heart jumps.

"Hey what's wrong?" he moves his hand from your head to wipe a stray tear falling across your cheek, you unintentionally lean into his touch. "I've lost my year 12's exam essays, I can't find them anywhere, and they are 50% of their grade, I literally have no idea where I have put them and I'm freaking out" You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding and more tears falls from your eyes. Ross’s face only softens more, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. "It's okay, I'll help you look for them, now do you remember where you last had them?" you shake your head and scrunch your eyebrows together, your breathing begins to pick up and you feel the anxiety building in your chest. "I feel like I've looked everywhere" more tears spill from your eyes as you sit pathetically hunched over practically under your desk. Ross stands and looks around the room and spots your keys on the side of your desk. "Have you checked your car?" you look up to his towering figure from your spot on the floor and shake your head. He grabs your keys from the side and practically runs out the room.

He makes his way to the staff parking lot and finds your little Volkswagen Beetle in an instant, he had spent so many evenings staying in your office doing his marking in your company and walking you to your car, he always loved the little vehicle , it was very you, very artsy, the crocheted jelly fish hanging from the rear-view mirror, the bunting hanging around the inside of the car, there were bells and all sorts of trinkets filling the car. He opened the car and was engulfed with the smell of coconuts, he searched the front and back seats, not finding anything, before lastly looking in the boot, when he popped her open he saw the red folder entitled 'sixth form' upon a quick glance inside, it was indeed your missing essays.

Locking up your car he walked as quickly as humanly possible back to your classroom, only stopping when he was collard by the music department, "Oi Ross, where you off to in such a rush?!" Department head Mr Healy all but shouted, perched on the edge of one of the desks. Ross sighs and backs his way into the office, not wanting to stop for fear you had pulled your hair out by now. "Why even ask that question, if he's down this corridor, we all know he's on his way to his favourite department..." Mr Daniels wiggles his eyebrows at the man. Ross lets out a huff. "I was just getting something for Y/n, she left her essays in her c-" before he could even finish his sentence Matty had cut him off laughing. "Ross mate, you are so whipped" George joins in with the laughter, Ross just rolls his eyes, backing out of the office once more, following the corridor to the drama department, he found you in your office, only now you were sat in your chair with your head in your hands. You hear his foot steps and instantaneously raise your head. You see the little red folder and virtually throw yourself at Ross across the room. He catches you with open arms and lifts you into his embrace. You breathe in his scent, face smashed against his chest, only praying that your makeup doesn't stain his pristine white button down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, I could have sworn I brought everything in from my car, they must have slipped off the pile this morning!" you only hug him tighter as you talk. He rests his head atop your own, loving the feeling of holding you close.

You take one last deep breath, drinking him in before stepping away. You look up to his height and give him a genuine smile, "I owe you one, seriously, thank you Ross" He smiles back at you. There is a knock on the door and you peer behind Ross to see one of your year 11 students. "Hi Mr Macdonald, Uh Miss I just wanted to return the play you let me borrow, I really enjoyed it, thank you" You smile at her taking the book from her hand. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, it's one of my favourites" Ross enjoys watching the exchange, he loves nothing more than seeing you in your element. "Yeah I was thinking of choosing Agamemnon's monologue for our final exam, or do you think it will be too demanding?" The student looks to you with a quizzical look. "I think it's a great idea, you'll be amazing, now go and get your lunch, I have some marking to get on with" You beam at the kid watching as they waltz away with a spring in their step.

"Well I was coming to find you as you weren't in the staff room, but now that you've got your essays back I assume you'll be working through lunch?" Ross who now leans against your desk asks gesturing towards the papers. "Well I'm already so far behind so I better had, but you are more than welcome to keep me company"

A couple of weeks had flown by since the essay incident and there were varying whispers travelling around the school, both students and teachers alike, about Ross and your relationship status, the teachers had always ignored gossip and after denying anything was going on for the two years you had worked together most of your co workers chose to ignore it, but some couldn't help but indulge themselves once they heard rumours that a student had walked into the office and found Mr Macdonald and Miss S/n snuggled up together. You were constantly denying that's what happened to your entire department and the music department who just love to wind up Ross. You were pouring yourself your morning coffee when Matty, stalks over towards you, you let out a sigh knowing whats to come, "I heard another rumour about you on the gate this morning" the smug smirk on his face was telling enough, you turn to his eyebrows raised, "Matty, it's not even 8.30 yet, what could you possibly have heard?" You turn back filling up a second mug of coffee for Ross who was walking over to the pair. "Speak of the devil himself, so some sixth form girls were talking and apparently they have seen you two snogging in Mr Macdonalds classroom" you choke on your coffee as Matty proudly pats Ross on the back "For christ sake, when will they stop chatting shit" Ross hands you a napkin from the side and shakes his head.

You let out a huff as you try and pat down the coffee stain on your white blouse, and whinge when it doesn't come out, Ross nods his head to your top "I have a spare shirt in my office if you wanna borrow it?" - "ooo sharing clothes now-" "Matty shut your mouth, yes please that would be amazing" the sentiment warms your heart, or the coffee is boiling your skin, you can't really tell but either way you feel all tingly as you follow him up the stairs to the history department. It's not very often you get out of your own block and you always loved the history department, it was decorated to look like world war one trenches with cargo nets and model planes above head, and students art work hanging along the walls, you appreciated the creativity.

You step inside the office and take in how neat and tidy everything is, unlike how messy everything in your office is. You watch carefully as he reaches into a cabinet behind his well organised desk and pulls out a freshly ironed pinstriped shirt, he removes it from its hanger and hands it over to you, leaning back onto his desk, what he hadn't anticipated was for you to start unbuttoning your own blouse in front of his very own eyes, they widened and he instinctively looked down to the ground, not so subtly glancing when you slipped the shirt off completely leaving you in your white lace bra, the delicate piece of fabric leaving his mouth bone dry. You tugged his shirt over your shoulders and begin to do up the buttons when you notice his blown out stare. "Oh my god, sorry I should have just taken it to my office and changed, I'm so sorry" your eyes also went wide and your cheeks flushed, you held the shirt closed against your chest. You had grown so comfortable with the man and so accustomed to being with him, it had slipped your mind that he had never actually seen you in any capacity other than being at work and being so called 'friends'. "Uh, no it's fine, I'm sorry I shouldn't have been looking, it was my fault, I'll look away now" he turns away, begrudgingly, and you finish doing up your buttons, saying an all but silent 'thank you' before hurryingly leaving the department.

The shirt swamps you and his scent is intoxicatingly suffocating you all day. You were in your office on your free period towards the end of the day with another drama teacher and your closest friend Adam, telling him about your embarrassing escapades this morning. "I don't know if I'm ever gonna live this down Adam, how do you apologise for flashing your tits to one of your co workers" you groan and throw your head back against your chair, Adam laughs at your expense and pats you on your shoulder, "trust me, with the way he's been eyeing you up all these years, it might finally give him the push to ask you out!"

You furrow your brows in frustration and continue to smack your head back against the chair. "I'm serious Adam, what am I gonna do, it's gonna be awkward now, and I know that he's already told the rest of the history dep, who's told the rest of the faculty because Matty and George keep bloody shaking their chests at me every time I walk past their office" you sigh as Adam stifles another laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. "Right I'm sorry, I'll talk to Matty and George and see what they've heard, but I'm sure it's not that bad, you know them two they're just wind ups." he gently pats you on your shoulder once more. "I have to go and get ready for my last lesson, so I'll see you in a bit yeah" you nod and flop forwards onto your desk.

---

You had wholly lost yourself in your marking almost forgetting this mornings events when the man of the hour knocks on your door. You look up to see his bearded face giving you a half smile as he leans against the door frame. "Hey, I heard that the music heads have been being a pain in your arse all day...I wanted to come and apologise" He shuffles closer to you, you lean back in your chair looking up at him, your heart flutters. "You have nothing to apologise for Ross, they aren't even your department, so..." as you trail off he sighs, he strides over and takes a seat at Adams desk. "Exactly they're not my department but they are my friends, and I don't want them upsetting you. I don't want anyone to upset you..." he lets out a deep breath when you don't say anything and moves to stand up, you grab a hold of his hand quickly. "Thank you" he turns his hand in yours so his thumb can graze your knuckles and he nods down to you.

"I know they're a pain but we're actually going for drinks tonight after work, did you wanna come? We're gonna go a couple of towns over so we don't get spotted by any students" you take your lip in between your teeth mulling over your options, missing the way it draws Ross's gaze towards your lips. "Uh yeah, sure, I need a break from all this marking anyway, text me the details." The hand you didn't realise you were still holding dropped yours as he slinked out the door, looking back to give you one last smile.

The pub was loud and music blared all around as you entered the room with your friend Beck from the English department, you can already hear Matty before you see any of them and follow the sound towards the bar, Ross is of course first to spot you, and instantly has his breath taken away with your appearance, he is used to seeing you in your pretty long flowing dresses, or long blouses and leggings that you liked to roll around on the floor in with your students, he rarely ever got to see your skin, so seeing you in a short patterned skirt, paired with a silk camisole revealing a lot of skin was more than his poor mind could bare. You reach the bar and Matty throws his arms around you pulling you in for a hug, the smell of beer and cigarette smoke heavy on his person. "Here's the flasher herself!" he shouts pulling you into his side, you give his shoulder a slap, pulling away to playfully scold the man. You turn to Ross who has an apologetic smile on his face, his arm already outstretched for you to embrace him, you snuggle into his side and stay wrapped there in the warmth of his body. You look up to take in his appearance, his hair was down, a sight you rarely ever saw, and he was wearing a tshirt and jeans, something you had never seen him in. You enjoyed seeing him so relaxed and happy. Despite greetings being finished his arm stayed wrapped snugly around your side, keeping you close to him. "Can I get you a drink?" he asks down to you, your neck craning to look up to his face from the angle, "yeah, please can I just get a pint of cider"

He nods to the bartender and orders your drinks, passing yours over to you, "do you wanna go and sit down?" You just nod and walk until you find an empty booth sliding in beside the giant of a man, sitting as close as possible. His arm finds its way back around shoulders as he sips on his pint, leaning back against the booth. You sigh contently lean your head back against his shoulder, watching as he continues to drink. "I have put your shirt in the wash, I'll bring it in on Monday for you" he chuckles and shakes his head, "You should keep it, it looked good on you" he flirts, his hand gently squeezed you, pulling you impossibly closer. "I'm not stealing your clothes Ross" you state matter of factly, "No you're not, I'm giving it to you, I liked the way it looked on you, so I want you to keep it." you stare at his face for a moment, watching as his eyes drop to your lips, he takes another sip of his drink, you take your lip in between your teeth, biting gently at the skin, he puts down his pint on the table and raises his hand to cup your chin, his thumb gliding across your lip, tugging it from the soft torture of your teeth. His face moves in closer to yours, "You have no idea what you do to me" he sighs , hand moving to brush your hair back behind your ear. "What's going on here then!" the pair of you pull apart and readjust yourselves as you hear Georges voice, followed by the childish hollering of Matty, and few other faculty members who joined you in the booth.

The night went on and you were wedged in between George and Ross, the two giants making you feel like a shrew with having to look up so much. Many drinks had been sunk down and you were all more than tipsy, playing games like ring of fire and never have I ever like a group of teenagers. "okay, okay, never have I ever slept with a colleague" Matty slurs out watching no one take a drink he eyes the pair of you across the table and points at you accusingly. "I call bullshit" you raise your hands in defence "Hey! fuck you Healy, I'm not the one who shagged half the staff my PGCE year" you joke back to him, he laughs and knocks back a drink remembering the training year you worked together. "Okay, I'll do another one, never have I ever, WANTED to sleep with a colleague" he winks at you, you can't help but watch the smirk on Ross's face as he takes a sip of his drink and everyone at the table cheers. "What! I was just thirsty!" He looks down to you and winks, you feel your entire body flush, a heat rises through you. His hand slid it's way onto the top of your thigh just below where your skirt had ridden up to, sending another round of shockwaves through you. The bell rings out through the bar, calling in last orders and you take that as your time to leave, most of the guys had run up to the bar to get more drinks before you could even say goodbye. You say farewell to George and go to say goodbye to Ross but he is standing along with you, "I'm gonna make sure you get home safely" grabbing his jacket from the booth escorting you out of the pub. "Ross you don't have to, I'm just gonna jump in a cab I'll be fine" as soon as you step outside your body shivers, not even a second later he's wrapping his jacket around your shoulders engulfing you in his warmth once again. "And that's exactly why I wanna take you home, I know you don't have a jacket, and I don't want you to get in a taxi all by yourself at 1am on a friday night...please, for my own peace of mind" you just nod and walk along the road to find the taxi rank.

The ride to your house is peaceful, you shared small talk, the pair of you playing with each others hands in the back of the car. The taxi driver asking for occasional directions as he neared your house. When he pulled up outside, Ross was first out the car, holding the door open for you, and paying the taxi driver. He walked you up to your door as you rooted through your bag for your keys, noticing the taxi had driven off, you let out a laugh, "do you wanna come in?" Ross's eyes lit up at the mention of stepping inside your house, he didn't want to appear to eager but he couldn't help himself. "Yeah, I'll call another taxi, and get out of your hair" you shook your head and let yourself through the front door, slipping off your shoes, Ross follows suit, he takes in everything before his eyes. Lots of house plants, many books upon dark wooden book shelves, just as he imagined. He follows you into the kitchen and smiles to himself when he sees his shirt neatly folded on top of a pile of your washing next to the washing machine. He could get used to seeing his clothes mixed with yours, the domesticity warming his soul. "Can I get you a drink? soft or alcoholic?" you turn to him eyebrows raised. "What are you having?" he queries lips curling upwards. "Well I was gonna have rum and coke but that all depends on you, Mr Macdonald?" you flirt tilting your head towards your drinks cabinet. He lets out a groan and throws his head backwards, your words unintentionally running straight to his cock. He takes a step towards you and places his hands firmly on your hips, digging his fingers into the fabric of your skirt. "You can't call me Mr Macdonald and think there won't be any consequences" he grumbles lowly backing you into your kitchen counters. "Oh I'm sorry what would you prefer, just Sir?" you quip sarcastically, adoring the attention you were getting. He emits subdued grunt before reaching round under your thighs, lifting you and placing you a top the counter, your eyes were now level, your arms rested on his shoulders, hands stroking through his long hair gently, as his hands gripped your waist. "Why do you have to tease me constantly?" he questions almost pained as he searches your eyes for hesitation, he finds none. "I don't know what you mean?" you ask softly, "you waltz around school in your pretty dresses, everyone adores you, you light up every room you walk into, every small, minute thing you do has this crazy effect on me and it makes me feel like I'm going insane. Then today you just started taking off your god damn shirt and I don't know how I didn't pounce on you because, because my God you're beautiful." his tone was hushed and his face inched closer and closer towards yours as he spoke. Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips grazed yours, soft and smooth, in contrast to his beard tickling your chin. You had enough of him testing the waters and pulled him by the back of his neck into you fully. His lips tasted like the Guinness he had been drinking, you don't usually like the taste but on him you would drink it a thousand times over. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth making you moan, a sound Ross felt he had waited years to hear.

His hands moved around from your waist, hips thighs, not able to settle on a spot, the realisation that this was really happening sinking in, finally one hand coasts to your bum and pulls you flush against his front, the heat between your legs pooling as you feel him hardening beneath your touch, he moves his hips against you, working to get some friction, the pair of you like some horny teenagers dry humping each other in your kitchen. As he thrusts forwards once more your head falls back, eyes closing at the feeling, he lifts his face to watch yours contort with pleasure, a sight he has only imagined since he first laid eyes on you. You lift your head up once more and open your eyes to find his already boring into yours. Your hands caress his face, as you look at him from your new height, appreciating him more, you tuck his hair behind his ears and lean forwards to give him a peck, slow and sensual. "Do you wanna go upstairs?" your voice is timid despite your actions, you really liked him and you didn't want to mess this up. "Are you sure babe?" your heart wretches at the new nickname, you just nod and lean in to kiss him once more before jumping down from the counter.

Ross aimlessly follows you through your house until you reach your bedroom. "it's a bit of a mess, I couldn't find anything to wear..." you draw out as you open the door, the lamp is still on, strewing warm light across the room. there is a small pile of clothes on the floor, makeup on top of your vanity but the room is clean, Ross smiles to himself imagining you stressing trying to find something to wear. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed and pulls you so you are straddling his lap. His eyes crinkle as he beams up at you, you smile back just as wide and smash your lips to his tired of the anticipation. You move feverish against each other, hot open mouth kisses, tongues fighting for dominance, his hands weave their way into your hair and one to your bum again pulling you to grind against him, the jeans he's donning giving you the most delicious friction. You both move fast against one another, he attaches his lips to your neck sucking and biting his way down to your collar bone where you let out a rather ravenous moan as he bit down on the skin. His hands work their way under the camisole you were wearing lifting the flimsy garment over your head, discarding onto the floor, he lets out a breath as he once again sees you in the delicate lace bra you were wearing this morning, only now paying much closer attention. His hands raise to cup your breasts through the fabric, palming them, leaning down and placing a kiss on each breast. "I've been thinking about this fucking bra all day..." he continues to shower your breasts with attention pulling the fabric down to reveal the skin underneath. he kisses the left nipple and you let out a sigh. "Not been able to concentrate on anything" he sucks the bud into his mouth biting it lightly watching as your mouth falls agape, he moves to the other, "I was supposed to do an observation of Jamie's year 11 lesson, and all I could think about was your fucking tits" he takes the other bud into his mouth and you roll your hips into his. He grunts and moves backwards placing another kiss on your lips, hand cupping your cheek. "I don't think that's very fair of you teasing me like that now was it?" his condescending tone was enough to drive you over the edge. All you can do is shake your head and lean in for another kiss. Your hands fight to take off his shirt, as his rid you of your bra, finally. you stand as he begins to unbuckle his belt and pull off his jeans, leaving him in his boxers and you very aware of his very large erection.

You unzip your skirt allowing it to fall to the floor, his eyes cascading down the length of your body, he admires the lacy underwear you have on as he drops to his knees in front of you and pulls them down your legs. He looks up at your eyes from his position on the ground as a pleading notion before devouring you. He takes your swollen bud into his mouth and sucks, then laps up the wetness, your fingers entrap his locks pulling at the roots, he moans into your mound, hooking an arm under your thigh and looping it over his shoulder so he can get closer to you, his tongue lays flat against your opening choaked out moans falling from your mouth. He laps up the juices sucking and kissing in his wake, you feel a fire building up inside you, bubbling throughout your entire body. You tug on his hair pulling his face back to look up at you, his well groomed beard coated in your essence. He smiles and places a kiss on your inner thigh, you stroke the side of his face, admiring every line and freckle that sports the skin. He gently places your leg back to the ground and stands back to his towering height.

Your lips meet once again tongues clashing and it's dizzying, you give him a soft nudge until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, he sits and brings you to straddle him once more, the feeling of him fully erect in his boxers pressing against you makes your head spin, your hands glide along his chest down to his abdomen, stopping just above the waistband of his pants. Eyes meeting briefly to ask for permission, he simply nods his head and leans forward to place a tender kiss on your neck, his hips raise of the bed, you with him, as you tug the attire down his hips, he kicks them the rest of the way down, a breathy gasp leaves your lips as he springs free, slapping against his stomach. You weren't sure he would fit, taking him in your hands your pump the member a few times, feeling him throb in your palm, you swipe your thumb over the tip collecting his precum, smearing it around, he lets out a glutaral groan at the mere feeling of your hands, he wasn't sure he could handle much more. His teeth bit down on the base of your neck, hard and warning. "What did I tell you about teasing? huh?" You sigh and draw back, looking innocently into his eyes, you shrug and continue to tug on his member, causing him to laugh. "Do you have a condom?"

"I'm on the pill, I want to feel you, if it's okay with you, I'm clean..." your voice was soft trembling towards the end of the sentence. He had never been more certain of anything in his life, "me too" leaning forwards to connect your lips once more. You raised your hips, his penis still in your hand, the other grasping onto his broad shoulder for leverage as you lined him up at your entrance. You both sigh as the tip slips in, stretching you out as you sink further and further down, when you are fully seated his head drops to lay on your chest, basking in the feeling of your warmth clenching around him. You rest your head on top of his, his arms encasing themselves around you, clinging onto your back, they gently settle on your hips giving you a loving squeeze, a sentiment that makes your heart flutter. You pull back and attach your lips, raising your hips and allowing them to fall, setting a rhythmic pattern. Your hands land on Ross strong shoulders for balance, his own hands clawing at the skin of your hips, bruising the squashy flesh as he helps lift you up and down. You started off slow, feeling every inch of him penetrating you deep within, rocking your hips back and forth creating a beautiful friction that lit the fire in your belly. "Ross" you moaned out his name like it was a prayer, a mantra, over and over again, every time you rolled your hips, he could swear he would snap right then and there, he leaned back against the bed watching you, as you bounced yourself up and down on his shaft. His lips curled upwards into a sly smile as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "You're doing so good my sweet girl, making me feel so good" his words of encouragement only spur you on, you push back on his shoulders so he is lying back on the bed and sit up, rapidly bouncing feeling the knot tighten in your stomach, Ross's hands reach up, one clasping your left breast in his hand, the other pushing into your stomach, you moan at the feeling lulling your head back. He sits back up and attaches his mouth to yours swallowing your moans. His hips raise, thrusting with you, helping to guide your movements as they begin to slack. "Such a good girl" the praise rings through your ears like bells, sending tingles to every nerve ending in your body. "Ross I- I" you can't get your words out with how breathless you have become.

A sheen of sweat covering your bodies as you ricochet on top of him. "I know baby, you're doing so well, I want you to cum for me, can you do that?" one of his large hands caress the side of your face, brushing the hair sticking to the side of your face out the way, as he stares into your soul with his cocoa eyes. You nod and speed up, if that was even possible, the action earning a loud grunt of your name from Ross, the hand once holding your face slid its way down to your clit, assaulting it with harsh circles, you cry out as the knot only tightens, begging to be snapped. His thumb continues to press and knead the bud as you mewl away like a kitten above him. You grab his face and smash your lips together as the knot finally snaps, exploding a million electrolytes across your body, you scream Ross's name into his mouth, the contracting of your walls around him enough to spill him over the edge. You feel the warmth collecting inside your walls and dripping out down, the sounds of the liquids sloshing together were pornographic. Your movements finally slow down, riding out your highs but staying there connected together. Your head resting on his shoulder. He places gentle kisses along your shoulder and neck, holding you close as your body falls limp against him. Your breath was ragged only calming down now Ross's hands caress across your body. "You did so well baby, such a good girl for me, better than I ever imagined" He stands with you still connected, holding under your bum, and turns so you're on your back on the bed, he gently pulls out, you gasp at the feeling of emptiness.

He walks to your ensuite bathroom fetching a warm washcloth, coming back to clean the obscene mess between your legs, he smirks as your legs shake at the sensitivity. After discarding the washcloth he crawls into bed next you, pulling the quilt up over your bodies. "Is this okay?" he asks while putting an arm around you, you giggle leaning into him, breathing in his intoxicating scent once more, placing a hand on his chest, stroking over the soft skin. "You were inside me two minutes ago and now you're asking if it's okay to cuddle, I think we're past that Ross" you smile up at him sarcastically. "I meant is it okay for me to stay? do you want me to go home?" for the first time tonight its his voice that faulters, afraid of your answer. "I would never ask you to leave" He pulls you in for another kiss, sweet and short, but sentimental all the same.

Monday rolls around too fast for your liking, Ross had to leave relatively early Saturday morning to get on with lesson plans, as did you, and you couldn't help but crave his presence. You stand in the staff room listening to the morning briefing not paying too much attention, Adam stands next to you along with the music department, and across the room is Ross, his eyes trained on you as you giggle at something Adam whispers to you, a pang of jealousy courses through his veins. Briefing was over and you expected Ross to come and say his usual chipper 'hello' but he doesn't, he grabs his things and heads straight out the door before giving you a second look.

You can't help the disappointment brewing in your heart. Maybe he regretted his actions Friday night and wants to forget about them. You silently sulk to yourself and wander to your form room for the start of the day. Your lessons fly by this morning, the anxiety slowly bubbling up through the day, it got to lunchtime and you had to distract yourself from your own brain, taking a wander down the corridor you find George and Matty in their office, they were messing around on the piano together not noticing you walk in. "knock knock" you announce yourself into the room, sitting cross legged on top of one of the unoccupied desks. Their heads pop up both smiling widely at you, "Hey flasher" Matty calls back to you, you let out a small laugh letting your head fall. He notices your eyebrows furrow and lack of a retort and comes and sits next to you on his desk. "What's up y/n? no snarky comment, that's not like you?" he jokes placing an arm around your shoulder, sensing your mood. "I'm fine, just a bit down today I guess" you fiddle with your hands in your lap, George turns around in his chair, now facing the pair of you. "Does this have something to do with the fact that a certain History teacher hasn't been drifting up and down this corridor at all today?" George tilts his head to the side as he quizzes you. The sigh you emit is telling enough, Matty's arm around you only tightens, pulling you more into his side, George moves from the piano and comes to take a seat in front of the pair of you.

"Wanna tell us what happened?" Matty tries to find your eyes but you sink further into yourself. "What and wait for it to go round the entire faculty and student body by home time... no thanks" Matty just laughs and removes his arm from around you, shuffling on the desk so he can sit opposite you and look into your eyes. "Mate, we may like to wind you up, but we're not the gossips, you know that's the old bag Mrs Collins in Ross's department that likes to spread the rumours not us... so come on, anything you say will stay right here in this very office" You give him a half smile and then a warning look to both he and George.

"Okay fine, but you have to promise not to tell!" They both as if on que put their pinkie fingers outstretched to yours, interlocking them all for a moment, before carrying on. "So Ross took me home on Friday night" both men shared a shit eating grin on their faces, nodding their heads for you to continue. "And we slept together" Matty lets out a squeak like a teenage girl, which earns a slap on the arm from you. "And it was amazing, he stayed the night and left Saturday morning, and everything was seemingly okay, but then this morning in briefing he wouldn't even look at me... it's just made me feel like shit, I don't know if I did something wrong, or if he was just trying to get into my pants but now I feel like crap" you didn't notice the tears that start falling from your eyes, and now they have started they won't stop. You huff out a breath, feeling stupid for thinking you could have it all. Matty's arm is back around you, rubbing up and down your back, and George holds one of your hands. "Oh mate, trust me, Ross really likes you, he's probably thinking the exact same thing as you" You look to Matty and George for reassurance George nodding at Matty's words. Even though they were in different departments, the three of them were close, often hanging out.

You didn't realise that Ross, feeling stupid for his actions this morning was on his was to your office to beg forgiveness, when he heard the soft cries coming from the music office, he looked through the crack in the door to see you sitting hunched over, tears streaming down your cheeks, lips puffy and pouting, and Matty and George sitting comforting you. The sight broke his heart in two. He taps three times on the door, opening it with a creak, you immediately sit up straight and wipe your tears away. "Hey Y/n, do you mind if we talk in your office?" his voice almost failing him, you nod, and slide off Matty's desk, leaning in to give the boys quick group hug whispering a 'thank you' in their ears. You walk over to Ross who holds the door open for you, you slide under his arm walking through the door. He follows you in silence until you get to your office. You close the door behind you, and both stand there in silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. "Why were you crying?" Ross is the first to speak. you sigh and look to the ground once more, not finding your words, your shoes suddenly becoming very interesting. His fingers find your chin and raise your head so you meet his eyeline. "Hey, was it because of me?" you bit your lip and furrowed your brows nodding twice, "Only because we haven't spoken today, it's silly, but it made me feel like you might regret what happened at the weekend?" You look up to him with pleading eyes, one of his hands clambers around your neck, the other around your waist, pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampooed hair.

"I'm sorry, I saw you in briefing with Adam joking around and it made me angry, it was stupid and I shouldn't have ignored you" he sighs out, finally telling you the truth, you smile up to him laughing. "You know Adams married with a kid right?" you giggle. "Yeah I know, but it still pissed me off, blame my brain not me, so can I make it up to you?" he looks down to you, pretty bearded face smiling, his eyes have a certain glimmer in them. "What do you have in mind?" You reply cheekily beaming up at the man. "How about dinner and round two at my place on Friday?" He laughs leaning down pulling you in for a kiss, your tongues are entangled. Hands combing into his man bun, when suddenly the door opens wide, "Miss can I borrow- oh -" You both jump apart from each other smoothing out your dress, Ross fixing his hair as you look wide eyed at the student stood in shock in front of you. "Hi Mr Macdonald... Uh Miss S/n, can I please borrow your book on Brecht?" Alison was a year 12 girl, lovely, but she had a big mouth. You reach behind you on your desk and find a copy of the book handing it over to the sixth former, she smiles at you awkwardly, giving Ross the same smile. muttering a 'thank you' as she left. Ross snorted as the door closed and you slapped your hand over your mouth laughing uncontrollably. Ross pulled you into him again, still laughing, "Well I better make you Mrs Macdonald if we're gonna get caught by students doing that" he laughs, "Alright Ross don't get ahead of yourself, let's just start with dinner yeah?" You bite your lip before pulling him in for another kiss, sealing the deal.

[teadari]

⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆✴︎˚｡She helps everyone except herself.⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆✴︎˚｡ - Part 2

જ⁀➴ Nakahara Chuuya જ⁀➴

The Port Mafia was not just words; it was an entire world encased in the armor of harsh

realities and strict order. In this hidden realm, amidst shadows and half-tones, Chuuya

blazed like a comet streaking through the darkness. His temperament was akin to a storm,

crashing down upon his enemies, leaving behind only destruction and awe.

And yet, in the

distant shadow of his dazzling brilliance, there was a figure easily overlooked but

impossible to lose — Ohiko.

This girl, like a reed swaying in the wind, was steadfast in her convictions and dedication to

the cause. Her presence, though seemingly subtle, inspired confidence in those who stood

beside her. She was the thread that bound together the fragmented pieces of this harsh

mechanism into a cohesive whole — a true point of support.

It was no surprise that her help and support became an unseen yet invaluable force for

many, embodying a quiet but constant engine of order and harmony amidst chaos.

However, despite all her efforts, she remained mysteriously invisible to herself. As is often

the case, true wisdom and generosity directed outward leave the inner temple deprived,

where absent care for one's own well-being reigns. So it was with Ohiko — living for others,

she sometimes forgot to extend to herself the same gentle support she so freely gave to

those around her. Is there not great wisdom in this contradictory phenomenon of light?

Down in the root-like depths of the Port Mafia, there lingered the sly taste of unending

contradiction — how could such seemingly opposing forces coexist in one strange

microcosm? Chuuya, whose sharp gaze missed nothing, particularly enjoyed observing how

Ohiko, like a wandering star, carved her brilliant path through the melancholy of gray days.

In her presence, the shadows seemed less menacing, and the wind whistling between the

buildings — less sinister.

"What mystery lies beneath that gentle exterior?" Chuuya often pondered, asking himself

this question on one of those rainy days when even acts of villainy seemed soaked in

hopelessness. Yes, she contributed to the legendary feats of the mafia from the solitude of

office walls — nothing in her surroundings presented an obvious threat to life. And yet, her

work, such a seemingly simple role, intrigued him all the more. It was hard to imagine that

the sun-like Ohiko would trade her inner freedom for the shackles of routine

responsibilities.

No matter how you looked at it, her position within the depths of the mafia's structure

stemmed from an entirely different arithmetic than anyone else’s. Perhaps she sought in

this darkness a light she couldn’t find in ordinary life? Or was her heart, devoted to service,

drawn here to find its niche, wishing to help not for reward but for the sake of purpose

itself? Whatever the case, her presence remained a living reminder that even within the

depths of storms, quiet harbors of kindness and compassion hide — treasures Chuuya had

come to value deeply.

One day, as the evening sun barely filtered through the narrow window frames of the dimly

lit hall, and the air was heavy with the atmosphere of recent exploits, Chuuya cast his gaze

toward Ohiko, who was busy with a task not her own. With a care akin to a mother’s, she

was bandaging the wounded hands of one of her colleagues, paying no mind to the fact that

such work wasn’t hers to do.

Her smile — pale and somewhat wistful, like a weary traveler at sunset — still glowed with

a soft, almost otherworldly warmth. It was something that Chuuya, with his sharp eyes and

the ghostly shadow at his back, immediately noticed.

"Ohiko!" he called out firmly, stepping closer with the same fiery curiosity that always lit up

his eyes. "Why are you doing this? It’s not your responsibility," he said as the disgruntled

colleague, after hesitating briefly, stood up and walked away without even bothering to

thank his unsolicited benefactor.

A silence hung in the air, somewhat oppressive. Chuuya looked at Ohiko with astonished

wonder, as though she had revealed to him a secret he had long sought to understand — the

secret of how a tender flower of compassion could bloom amidst the chaos and darkness of

the mafia world. And yet, her quiet presence could guide many, even if they didn’t realize it

themselves.

Ohiko timidly raised her eyes, meeting his intense, almost unraveling gaze. "How could I

not?" she began, her voice carrying an explanation that was simple and unpretentious, like

water in a clear river.

"He was slightly injured, and I wasn’t busy at the time. Besides, bandaging a wound isn’t

much trouble for me…"

But Chuuya, not letting her finish, interrupted with a faint, barely noticeable irritation in his

gaze. It was the same piercing look that usually stopped even the boldest in their tracks, but

now it was laced with a thread of concern. Stepping closer, he voiced his thoughts loudly

and unmistakably.

"They won’t even thank you for it. Why do you always feel the need to help everyone? It’s

time you started thinking about yourself," his words were sharp, almost like a command,

announcing the onset of a new thought.

However, taking a deep breath, he grabbed her hand, lending his tone a softer shade, though

it still retained a slight edge of impatience.

It was like the sudden gentling of a wind that had

shown its favor, for in every look and word lay an attempt to awaken an understanding —

that kindness cannot be forced to rest, but there was hope that care could become mutual.

In his gaze burned a strange mix of anger and concern. "Listen," he began, his words

carrying the echo of a storm ready to engulf everything around.

"I don’t care that you help others, but it irritates me that you stubbornly forget about

yourself. The world, as we both know, is harsh and unforgiving, and you shouldn’t expect

the same kindness that you tirelessly give."

The pause was broken only by the weight of his sigh, as if he wanted to inhale all the

patience in the world — now his voice was softer, but it carried the same note of insistence.

"Don’t waste your energy on those who don’t appreciate it. In the end, you might break too,"

he said with a strain, as though trying to suppress the wave of emotions within himself this

time.

However, Ohiko, locked within her own inner light, couldn’t accept his words. Her

convictions, like a powerful current, carried her further into a world where everyone

deserved warmth and support. Wanting to object, she parted her lips, but Chuuya, not

giving her a chance to speak, pulled her closer.

"How did Mori even agree to hire you?" he muttered, and his voice, though still sharp like

shrapnel, carried more of a desire to protect this precious fragment of light and kindness in

a cruel world. In his sharpness lay care — the kind of care expressed by those who don’t

know any other way, but no less sincere for it.

[ejzah]

The Other Shoe, Part 15

***

After a first few brutal days, where Deeks seemed to be in constant pain, in addition to constantly being poked and examined by a team of doctors, things improved significantly. Since he didn’t show signs of rejection or infection, they removed several of the tubes that kept him bed bound and he was allowed brief walks—Sam had been released after only one day, much to Deeks’ regret. He’d looked forward to causing minor mischief with his former teammate.

Physical activity brought its own pain and challenges, but Deeks was just happy to be up and about. Even if some of that time was spent in mandatory PT sessions.

In the end, Deeks was released from the hospital after eight days, along with a dizzying list of guidelines, medications, diet recommendations, and symptoms to be on watch for as he recovered.

Two weeks later, Deeks and Kensi had settled into a fairly steady routine. She was still on family and medical leave, which meant she could assist Deeks with any of his needs. Though at this point, he could manage most of his upkeep by himself.

Mostly, Deeks was enjoying the ability to resume normal activities, albeit at a slower and less impressive pace.

Today, Kensi helped him move their set of weights and other exercise equipment outside for his daily modified workout session. With the sun beating down on him, he’d worked up a sweat within a few minutes, and stripped off his shirt. He’d have to watch that he didn’t burn after being inside so much the last year, but for now it felt amazing.

Halfway through a set of arm curls, he caught Kensi watching him from her spot on their wicker loveseat. The book she’d been reading lay abandoned in one hand. He followed her gaze down to his abdomen.

A scar about four inches long stretched from just above his pelvis to his lower abdomen at an angle. Underneath the hard layer of surgical glue, he could see the remnants of dried blood and the raised edges of relatively fresh scar tissue.

“I guess I’m not going to be winning any beauty contests, huh?” he said wryly, gesturing to himself with a sweeping motion. Kensi looked momentarily embarrassed at having been caught staring, but got over it quickly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re gorgeous,” she insisted, turning a couple pages in the book.

“I’m skinny, I’m pale, I can barely lift 10 pounds, and I have a new scar to top it all off.”

“And still think you’re the sexiest man alive,” Kensi told him firmly. She slid off the loveseat, leaving the book on the cushion, and crossed over to him hands on her hips. “I love everything about you, including that scar.” She stopped directly in front of him, curling one hand around the back of his neck and cupping his cheek with the other. “You will your strength and your tan back, but even if you didn’t, I would still love you.”

“You’re pretty amazing,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her temple.

“I know.” Grinning, Kensi pressed her lips to his. Deeks dropped one hand to the top of her back, drawing her closer. He moaned softly as the kiss deepened, warmth that had nothing to do with the sun sparking across his skin.

Kensi pulled back with a gasp, licking her bottom lip. She ran her hands down his chest with a regretful sigh.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I don’t think sex is on your doctor-approved activities list,” she pointed out. Deeks pouted.

“Maybe not, but I bet we could find something to do that would be equally fun.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and ran his eyes down the length of Kensi’s body.

“Let’s give it a couple more weeks.” Kensi patted his chest, fingers lingering for a few extra seconds.

“If you insist,” he sighed dramatically.

“I do. Ok, I’m going to get your afternoon medication and lunch,” she said.

“I think I can manage walking to the kitchen and making a sandwich.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to.” Kissing him one more time, very quickly, she headed for the back door. “Don’t even think about moving that equipment without me!”

Shaking his head in fond exasperation at Kensi’s scolding, sitting down on the edge of his yoga mat. He still had a long way to go in his recovery, but his future already looked so much better than it had a few months ago.

***

A/N: I didn’t want to get into all the details of organ transplant and recovery in this fic. However, I did want to specify for anyone who isn’t familiar, that organ transplants come with the possibility of lifelong complications, one of those being the risk of the body rejecting the transplant organ. As such, recipients have to take anti-rejection medication for the rest of their lives and take other precautions.

Again, I didn’t want to get into all of that, because as always I think Kensi and Deeks deserve a break and the chance to be happy after everything I’ve put them through. I think there will be just a chapter or two more after this.

[livving54]

Beauty, an experience

An experience described as the revisiting of a beginning. Visiting where you met them. Seeing the memories flash by as you walk your daughter down the aisle.

Not for some. It feels empty. Looking at the sky and only thinking why that one star looks out of place. Enjoying a cup of coffee on a sunny day but remembering this will all end. The cup will be empty and you'll have to wash it. Well someone has. Hope it doesn't bother them.

The mind runs from corner to corner, even though the room is spherical. Tapping away, pulling the strings. Riddle after riddle. Question after question. Holding them captive will turn them into the Kool aid man. Renovating the place.

Trying to stay organized while my mind is throwing the pencils off the desk. Getting a pencil case won't work as I'll forget it at home. Bending down to pick them back up. Losing focus in the process. Having to restart after accidentally pressing the power button. Leaving me in silence.

I hear the electricity. A constant buzzing. It's making me go insane. I can't find the source. Why can't I escape? Why does the room suddenly feel smaller? Or am I getting bigger? It can't be. I'm still me and the room is still room?

Well, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the buzzing. I found the source and resolved it but already forgot what it was. I do that a lot. Forget things - names, faces, voices, well the voices never leave. They continue to judge.

Judging me, my actions, and my existence. The existence of void. Looking around seeing beauty but not feeling it. Seeing people happy is something I envy. My mind wouldn't allow me to be vulnerable. Hopelessly romantic. Imagined as a purple flame. Pretty but would harm if touched.

Beauty isn't hard to find. Stroking your pet and seeing the trust in their eyes. Seeing the flowers bloom after a deadly winter. Yet the opposite applies. A feral dog being taken off the street. Seeing the flowers die as the lawnmower races over them.

Pain and beauty. I see both in all but I don't feel it. I see the sunny sky and remember it'll rain tomorrow. But I like it. I like the rain. I like the idea of rain. An endless routine, yet unpredictable in the long run. I like the poetry bound to a plant rising through the tiles. I may not feel but I enjoy.

Beauty, the experience.

First post but eh. Hope you enjoyed :>

[stellar-26]

Stellar Scientific Shares How to Choose a Lab Notebook That Withstands the Demands of Modern Research

In today’s fast-paced and high-stakes research environment, accuracy, organization, and traceability are more important than ever. Whether working in academia, biotechnology, pharmaceuticals, or industrial laboratories, one constant remains essential: the lab notebook. Lab notebooks serve as the foundational record of experimental procedures, observations, and data. These are critical components for validating results, protecting intellectual property, and ensuring reproducibility.

Choosing the right lab notebook is not just about having a place to jot down notes; it is about selecting a tool that can withstand the rigors of modern research. From regulatory compliance to chemical resistance, every aspect of a lab notebook must be carefully considered. Stellar Scientific offers insights into how researchers can select lab notebooks that meet their professional needs while adhering to the standards of today’s scientific community.

The Role of Lab Notebooks in Modern Research

Lab notebooks are more than stationery. They are legal documents, evidence of intellectual property, and historical records of scientific progress. Proper documentation is essential for:

Reproducibility of experiments

Patent and intellectual property protection

Meeting regulatory standards (e.g., GLP, GMP, FDA compliance)

Supporting grant proposals and peer-reviewed publications

As scientific work becomes more collaborative, interdisciplinary, and regulated, the demand for durable, traceable, and professionally formatted lab notebooks has grown significantly.

Key Features to Look for in a Lab Notebook

Archival-Quality Paper

Lab notebooks must endure the test of time. Archival-quality paper is acid-free, lignin-free, and manufactured to resist degradation over decades. This is crucial for labs that may be audited years after an experiment or that need to refer back to foundational research for product development. Choosing the right laboratory notebooks ensures that your data is preserved accurately and reliably for long-term reference.

Look for notebooks with thick, smooth paper that prevents ink from bleeding or feathering. High-quality paper supports clarity, legibility, and permanence, which are vital for both routine use and regulatory reviews.

Chemical Resistance and Durability

In a laboratory setting, notebooks are exposed to various hazards including chemical splashes, humidity, and physical handling. Covers made from poly or hard-bound materials are ideal for withstanding these conditions. Water-resistant or coated covers help protect internal pages, especially in labs where spills are a frequent risk.

Spiral-bound or glued-edge pads are more susceptible to damage and page loss. Bound and sewn lab notebooks, on the other hand, maintain page integrity and are typically preferred for compliance purposes.

Page Numbering and Non-Removable Pages

One of the hallmarks of a reliable lab notebook is sequentially numbered pages. This feature ensures transparency and traceability, allowing anyone to verify that no data has been tampered with or removed. Non-removable, sewn-in pages prevent the unauthorized alteration or removal of records.

Some lab notebooks also include space for dates, titles, experiment numbers, or signatures. These features support organized recordkeeping and ensure entries meet Good Laboratory Practice (GLP) requirements.

Grid or Lined Layouts for Versatility

Depending on the research field, layout preferences can vary. Graph-ruled pages are ideal for technical drawings, plots, and charts, while lined pages are better suited for textual observations and notes. Some notebooks offer a combination of both to accommodate mixed data types.

Lab notebooks that provide ample margins for annotations or witness signatures also make the documentation process more efficient and compliant.

Compliance and Validation Options

Regulatory environments such as GMP (Good Manufacturing Practices) and FDA inspections demand strict adherence to documentation protocols. Choosing notebooks labeled as "GLP-compliant" or "GMP-compliant" can make audits smoother and reduce compliance risks.

Some notebooks come with features tailored to regulated industries, including:

Signature and date lines

Project tracking fields

Index pages for easier reference

Instruction sheets for best practices

Researchers working in highly regulated fields should always select notebooks that meet their industry's documentation standards.

Tamper-Evident Designs and Security Features

For intellectual property protection and patent filing, lab notebooks must demonstrate authenticity. Features like tamper-evident pages, permanent bindings, and ink-resistant pages help maintain the notebook’s integrity over time.

Additionally, many professionals prefer notebooks with spaces for witness signatures. This step further authenticates the entries and supports legal validation of discoveries or innovations. A science lab notebook with witness signature sections provides an added layer of credibility, ensuring that experiments and findings are properly documented and verifiable, which is essential in many research and development settings.

Digital Integration (When Applicable)

While physical lab notebooks remain the gold standard for many environments, some research teams integrate digital tools for added efficiency. Hybrid options, such as notebooks that include QR codes for scanning and archiving pages digitally, can be a bridge between analog and digital workflows.

However, in situations where digital logs are not yet accepted for regulatory documentation, paper lab notebooks still hold a critical role. Selecting a physical notebook that complements digital tools, without compromising on compliance, is a smart move for labs transitioning to modernized processes.

Additional Considerations

Environmental Factors

Some research environments require notebooks that can tolerate extreme conditions, such as cold storage, field research, or high-humidity settings. Water-resistant or waterproof notebooks are essential for such situations, ensuring that data is not lost due to environmental exposure.

Size and Portability

Depending on the lab's workflow, a compact notebook may be preferred for portability, or a larger format may be better for recording detailed information. Selecting the correct size enhances usability and encourages consistent note-taking.

Bulk Purchasing and Cost Efficiency

High-volume labs often benefit from purchasing lab notebooks in bulk, especially when consistency across teams is necessary. Bulk purchasing options can ensure uniformity in documentation and may offer better cost efficiency over time.

Choosing a Trusted Supplier

Sourcing research lab notebooks from a trusted supplier ensures product consistency, regulatory compliance, and timely delivery. Partnering with a supplier that understands the specific needs of laboratories across scientific disciplines adds value and reliability to every purchase.

Why It Matters

Lab notebooks serve as the living history of scientific work. Poor documentation practices can lead to data loss, failed audits, or even the invalidation of intellectual property claims. Choosing a high-quality lab notebook not only protects the work being done today but also safeguards future advancements, reproducibility, and legal standing.

About Stellar Scientific

Stellar Scientific is a reliable supplier of laboratory equipment and consumables, offering high-quality lab notebooks designed to meet the rigorous demands of modern research. With a strong focus on quality, compliance, and durability, Stellar Scientific provides solutions that help laboratories maintain accurate records, meet regulatory standards, and support long-term scientific success. The company offers a wide selection of laboratory supplies across various scientific disciplines, ensuring researchers have the tools they need to perform their best work every day.

[neuroprincess]

Past, present and future - Back to BAU (Chapter 2)

Emily Prentiss/Female Reader

Fanfic Chapter List

Summary: The agents on an old case become the target of a criminal group seeking revenge, and Emily returns after four years, thinking she doesn't have much to lose until she learns about a part of her past that has been denied.

Warnings: None

Word count: +2900

Unrevised chapter

 When she returned to the BAU, Emily was under no illusion that everything would be the same as before and worked hard to reintegrate into the team for the second time, this time not acting like she had to make up for something like when it was the turn after Doyle. Her friends changed, the team adapted to her absence over the years but the same sense of fairness and companionship remained. This gave her a more than pleasant familiarity. When she left years ago to work with Interpol, she went away seeking a fresh start away from everything and everyone, an inner voice whispered the cowardice of the act, leaving everything and everyone behind. It just didn't feel right, it's as if she was forcing herself to go back to the life before Doyle and the offer suddenly seemed irrefutable. When she gave up on buying that house she gave up the roots she was putting down, she denied a major commitment and gave up the ties that permanently bound her to that life, and that included people. For a few months she kept in constant contact with the team, especially with the girls, she even received some visits in London, but the routine kept them away to the point of sporadic conversations and interactions on social networks. And now, months after returning, she finally feels at home and comfortable, fulfilled to be in action, saving people from the worst criminals in the country and making sure these monsters are behind bars. Staying professional has never been difficult for her, except when the subject involves the team, because she considers them family, the only family she has and defends them tooth and nail. And this time someone was trying to get to them, not only them but also their close family members. Hotchner and Jack are safely living a private life in another state since his retirement, but they used the late Haley's sister as a target trying to lure them in and luckily she managed to escape from the trunk of the car. JJ's house had been broken into while they were out to dinner, each family member's face had been burned into the photographs displayed on the bookshelf, a clear threat. Every home was broken into, every member received a note, a warning that they are not safe and that danger is approaching. Emily got hers, the apartment had not been ransacked, but the wedding ring, tucked away in the back of the drawer long ago, had been exposed on top of the nightstand next to a lipstick-stained napkin. She was relieved not to keep pictures of the union, at least not in obvious places, and with Clyde's help ensured that the marriage and the identity of her spouse were kept completely secret.

- He made orchestrated invasions and got through the security system of each house in less than 8 hours? - David asked in disbelief and slumped in the chair, frustration tensing his body after finding the mansion trashed and the names of his ex-wives written on the wall in lipstick.

- In fact it is humanly impossible that the element has managed to invade house by house, the neighborhoods are distant from each other and the fastest way would be through the main streets, but as the invasions occurred in times of congestion there would be no way to move in such a short time, unless he knew well each parallel path but even then he would have to cross with the main ones and face the stopped traffic, which would delay him. - Reid quickly countered, already working on a map on the board next to the table, analyzing the paths and options, where the responsible would have to pass and where Penelope could detect him - The attacks were synchronized, each alarm was triggered with an hour difference between each, from the least sophisticated to the most sophisticated security system, that is...

- There is more than one element. - he, JJ and Penelope said in unison, the team immediately tensed up - And they hacked into the security system before entering, there is someone operating behind the invaders. - concluded the hacker, checking the history of the last few hours - Derek texted, he got his family safe and is on his way here. - She added, still in shock that even he had become a target, even after officially leaving the unit.

- I don't understand, my house hasn't been invaded. - Tara was in shock at the latest events and double-checked that her family was safe and the home intact - It seems like a personal thing. But it's not about now, they are going after old agents and knew you, maybe they even watched every member, found out the routine. That's scary.

- A revenge would make sense. - and for the first time since they started discussing the events Emily spoke up, almost as a whisper - But only an extremely organized group would be methodical to attack in synchronized and timed fashion.

- Some criminals have a need to have control over time or are obsessed with numbers, like the Rodney Garrett "copycat" who needed to strike at specific times because it meant something to him, to the point of striking even with heavy surveillance on the streets. And there was Clara Hayes, obsessed with the number 3. - the doctor began to ramble, dropping his pen on the table before continuing. - But this would not apply to a group, except if the dominant one wielded so much power that it involved everyone in the same dynamic. A kind of extreme control.

-But each attack had a specific touch, like a trademark. Someone with that kind of control would not allow it. - JJ reminded them and connected the tablet to the shared monitor - The security company sent images from the cameras, this was at my house - the entrance to the blonde's house appeared on the screen and the team was surprised to see the suspect walk calmly to the door and open it with a key - and the video was recorded almost an hour before the alarm went off, they went through the security systems as if it was nothing, they purposely triggered them on their way out. But notice that this element must be at most 1.70 tall and thin, but the cameras in Derek's house - the monitor screen transitioned to another recording, this time the element looks tense and nervous - recorded a tall, above average man with a well-structured body.

- A woman entered mine. - Penelope noticed watching the recordings from her own building - And Emily's too, but her invader was the only one who covered her face completely, the rest were not so concerned with hiding their identities beyond wearing a surgical mask.

- Haley's sister was the only way to affect Hotch directly, but the element purposefully left the strings slightly slack and stayed away from her, hoping she would run away and alert us. - David sighed, beginning to understand the psychological game the group is creating - They are creating a fear dynamic.

- And it's working. - a voice behind them added, Derek was leaning against the door analyzing the images coming through the monitors and a frown formed on his face when he saw the recordings, making him more angry than he already was.

 Penelope immediately got up from the chair and threw herself into her friend's arms in a warm, caring embrace, relishing the closeness of the physical contact to kill the longing of days without seeing each other in person. After a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity to both, they separated and Derek left a chaste kiss on her forehead before finally entering the room, being greeted by each member with a warm hug and questions about his wife and son, relieved that they were with his mother and the security guards that the department head resigned were already in place to watch over and protect the families. Everyone was so wrapped up in welcoming him that they didn't notice the figure behind, quiet and tense, a little thoughtful. Y/N held her breath and wished she was invisible, just not wanting to face them face to face after all that had happened and was thankful that her time at the BAU had been quick enough not to form such strong emotional bonds with most of them, except Derek and Penelope, something she had previously regretted and now finds to be a good thing. She knows who the new team leader is and is not surprised, Emily has always tried to prove herself to Hotch and break down the walls of trust and self-preservation she encountered early in her FBI career and now she is in the position of responsibility and power among the profilers. Y/N always knew that this moment would come someday, but she didn't expect that so soon or in a situation like this, maybe it would be at the exit of a movie theater or in a bookstore, only situations that would boil down to a hello and superficial and awkward questions asked to each other, then they would never see each other again because this would be the never said goodbye. The mission to go unnoticed or forgotten failed miserably when her eyes met Rossi's, the man's eyes immediately sparkled in recognition, he removed his arms from around Morgan's shoulder and walked towards the woman, drawing everyone's attention by the unexpected move, making Y/N the center of attention as he pulled her into a tight hug.

- Y/N Y/L/N?! The face I never imagined I would see in the BAU again. - David spun them around lifting her a little off the ground and stroked her back with the palm of his hand, a gesture of affection.

 And it was Emily's turn to hold her breath, just like Rossi she never imagined she would see that familiar face in the unit again or anywhere. The brunette tried not to stare and pretend that her presence hadn't disturbed her, but within seconds she found herself admiring her. Her eyes trailed from bottom to top, caught in the shape of her thighs in the tight blue jeans and how they matched her low heeled Oxford boots, when the man let go of her she could catch a glimpse of the thin strappy regatta caught in the curves of the woman's body, covered by a flowered yellow kimono. "She looks so light and colorful" thought the profiler, appreciating the woman's new look and wondering if she had gotten rid of a few fingers of hair since last time, remember the length being longer. Which didn't go unnoticed by Derek, who gave her a light nudge to bring her back down to earth, Emily tried to retract immediately and coughed falsely before approaching with a weak smile on her lips.

- Welcome, Y/L/N! - she said trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, she raised her arm as if asking for permission to hug and felt her heart sink when she received only a handshake.

- Thank you, Agent Prentiss. I'm sorry to be reuniting the team under these circumstances. - The woman didn't return the smile - I see new faces here. - She turned to Tara and shook the agent's hand.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/L/N! I've heard a lot about you.

- All lies, except the good things. - Y/N joked, giving a small smile in sympathy.

- I can't believe my eyes are seeing, my little goddess is back, feels like a dream that I have my two loves together again. - Penelope interrupted the interaction and cut through the tension forming between the two, thin and clear as paper - Although I am very angry that you have kept in touch only with Morgan, you know, you were my coconut candy and I was very sad when you left, even though I know it was for bigger reasons... - the blonde had started to ramble and Y/N did the only thing that would shut her up, hugged her - I missed you.

- And I missed you too.

- Wait, what are you doing here? Did you come back? - she suddenly questioned, pulling out of the hug - Are you going to help on the case?

- I have to. - Y/N sighed and the team noticed her condition, dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn't slept and looked tired.

- What do you mean?

- Y/N's house had been invaded last night while she was home - Derek spoke up, the room grew tense and Emily felt fear run down her spine at the possibility of someone knowing Y/N's identity, of using it against her, of hurting her because of their shared past - and the element hurt.... - he thought over his own words before continuing - someone important to her, Y/N killed him in self-defense. They are trying to identify him, we thought he was some drug user in withdrawal looking for something to sell, but then they invaded my house and I knew something was wrong when I found out about the other invasions.

- I'm not sure if he didn't know our routine or if he was audacious enough to knock on my door before an event. - she added, still amazed by the whole situation.

- Did he touch you? - Emily asked quickly, worried to learn the details of the attack - Was he armed? Are you hurt?

- No and yes, as soon as I saw the gun I went on alert and shot immediately. I'm fine, he didn't even touch me. - She didn't want to go into too much detail, but all the people around her expect her to continue. - I was on the second floor preparing a shower when Lili opened the door, I heard strange noises on the first floor and found that bastard about to attack her.

- Is she okay, safe? - Penelope sighed and hugged her friend again, trying to comfort her.

- Yes, just a few scratches and bruises, could have been worse. I hope being here means safety. - Y/N shrugged her shoulders and looked at Derek, as if looking for a positive sign - We had nowhere else to go, at least not until we found out what is happening.

 Emily just watched the conversation unfold, trying to absorb what they were talking about. Annoyed and scared at the same time, the possibility of someone knowing who Y/N is makes her chest sink with fear that she might get hurt, suffer through the hands of some criminal wanting to get at her. And irritated at hearing the female name, coming to the erroneous conclusion that Lili is very important to her, in another sense, getting the same title of importance that she held years ago, and she wasn't ready to see someone else occupying this place besides herself. She wished she could deny it, but jealousy began to simmer inside the profiler at imagining this person, at how Y/N has moved on and could be happy in a new relationship. She was lost in her own thoughts until she was pulled out of them by another nudge from Morgan, becoming the focus of the team who seemed to expect a reaction to something she missed.

- W... What?

- Y/N will undergo a behavioral interview in search of information that may have gone unnoticed during the break-in. - Tara explained and put her hand on the lower back of the woman, leading her out of the room without delay, Reid accompanying them to apply the technique.

- And I was in charge of interviewing and applying the technique on Lili. - JJ said and picked up a folder just handed to her by an trainee.

- I'll go with you. - Emily was quick to decide, curiosity being greater than her to find out who Lili is, wanting to see the face of the person responsible for the sweetness in Y/N's voice when referring to her and won her over.

 The two women make their way through the halls of the BAU, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible for different reasons, of course the brunette is concerned for the well being of the entire team and wants to capture those responsible as soon as possible to make the work family safe, but she also gives in to her curiosity to meet the girl who has won Y/N's heart. JJ quickly looks through the folder and goes in first, while Emily looks a bit wary, analyzing whether or not she should move on, whether she should follow her mind or her heart in this situation. She takes a deep breath before deciding to go in, if she backs out she might end up turning herself in to a team of profilers who would find a way to find out what is going on and what happened in the past.

- Hi, Lilibet! I'm Agent Jareau and this is Agent Prentiss... - opening the door Emily heard her friend introduce herself but everything went silent and slow when she came across not a woman but a little girl sitting on the couch, looking scared and curious.

- Where is my mommy?

[galaxy-shapeshifter]

Alright fuck it

This is how my rarepair sonic ships react to being handcuffed together, inspired by @authorleaandres 's post where they also did this

Jet x sonic x shadow, which I decided to call sonadowjet: they are not having a great time. Pulling, pushing and fighting, Jet is especially suffering, he's biting and pecking at the cuffs and his hands, and sonic and shadow have to keep telling him not to cuz he might hurt himself. Sonic keeps pulling them around whenever he gets too excited, forgetting that they're bound together. Forcing jet to stay on his extreme gear all the time because he can't run as fast and he might get hurt from sonic's stupidity, resulting in MORE uncomfortable pulling. And shadow is trying so hard to stay as the quiet stoic one, but he keeps snapping at them whenever they pull at his arm too roughly.

Vanilla and the bride of constant vigil (nicknamed violet by me): they're doing alright. It stops violet from doing her usual daily routine in order to not mess with vanilla's routine too much though. But it did give them the whole day of working together, so that was sweet- even if it was uncomfortable at times.

Chails: charmy is having fun flying around with tails behind him, though since tails gets tired faster charmy is having a bit of trouble adjusting to his new limits. Whenever tails works on his inventions he gives charmy little orders like "hand me the screwdriver" so the bee can both feel useful and have something to do other then buzz around near his ear. It was fun, but they don't wanna try it again-

Infinite x eclipse: this doesn't change much of their daily life. After they started dating, they're practically attached to the hip- sure black death is very annoyed with this since eclipse is less active in battle when stuck like that, but the couple couldn't care less. The only thing this served to do is give them more cuddles throughout the day.

[sdvharveybby]

How the Bachelors handle farm work

So, I got the inspiration of this from the parking lot of Walmart. Don’t ask- I don’t know.

Also, these are hella long but I just LOVED writing this. I really did- they all are just so cute. I hope y’all enjoy reading this!!

 Alex

Ever just wanted to move a straight up cow? Then boy do I have the man for you!!

Honestly, because Alex trains so much he has the stamina and strength of a bull. He will help you move anything you need him to for as long as you need him too. Hay bales? He’s got it. You need help hoeing, planting seeds, and watering? Literally no problem. Because he hasn’t been so big on book learning- he loves learning through his physical strength. He loves when you teach him the basics of crop growing and how to properly take care of animals, and once you teach him- you can just let him run wild. He’ll then realize how physically stressing your job is and will soon put ‘working on the farm’ as part of his regiment. (Plus seeing him chop down trees shirtless isn’t such a bad sight, heh heh.)

You soon realize that he just loves all the cows. He moo’s back to tease them almost all the time, but genuinely enjoys feeding them and giving them pats on the head. His favorite way of showing off to you is going, “Hey, honey!” when you turn around, you’re always surprised to see him just holding a calf in his arms. His beaming smile makes your heart flutter.

Alex is always willingly to help you out on the farm in any way he can- sometimes you don’t know if it’s because he loves you or it’s because he thinks of it as training. With time though, you see that it’s actually both. He loves when you ask him for help because he enjoys knowing that you depend on him too and showing off his muscles in some way just makes him smile. He loves making you laugh, so while you take care of the chickens- he likes to make funny voices for the cows.

His constant help on the farm and his drive to make you laugh, has you loving him even more.

Sam

Sam doesn’t know a whole lot about farming, but he absolutely loves working with the animals. I’d imagine goats would be his favorite because they’re just so weird. I mean, he’s fascinated by the fact that they just want to eat everything in sight- soley because they can and that they don’t know any better.

Another reason Sam loves working with the animals is that once he realizes they’re safe and relatively easy to handle- he brings Vincent along to show him how to pet and take care of the animals. Sometimes you’ll see Penny, Vincent, and Jas on a field trip to the farm so that Sam can actually be a guide to them (of course Jas also gets the opportunity of showing off what she knows since she lives on a farm herself.)

There is nothing more wholesome than seeing Sam’s goofy smile when working with the kids. He loves feeling like he’s a part of the children’s lives and enjoys teaching them lifelong lessons.

Although… Seeing him fighting the goats as they try and eat his shirt is one of the funniest parts of your day. You can’t help but laugh as you watch him tell the goats to, “F*CK OFF!” (only sometimes do you actually help him.)

Sebastian

Sebastian wasn’t to keen on helping you out on the farm when you first asked for his help. “I’ll just screw things up.” He kept saying to you, but one day, as a present you give him a pure black egg with freckles on it. You tell him that it’s a very special looking chicken that’s hard to obtain, but that when it grows up it’s black. Oh man. When you told him this, he was ALL about this chicken. He placed the egg in the incubator and every single day- he would check up on it until it hatched.

The chicken and him were absolutely inseparable. You’d find him talking to himself all throughout the day until you find out that he puts the little chick in his sweatshirt pocket and literally carries it around everywhere with him. He shows off his little chick to everyone he knows- what made the chicken and him even closer was that people were just as weirded out by the chicken as they were of Sebastian. “I want to call my chicken, Midnight” He explains one day, “I actually feel like Midnight understands me as much as you do.”

Sure, Sebastian wasn’t great help with any of the other tasks on the farm, but the fact that he gives you the biggest, goofiest looking smile whenever he holds Midnight- it makes it all worth it. You’re happy that you could give Sebastian something to look forward to each and every day. It’s not long until you have a pet bed in your own house- just for Midnight, but you can’t complain. Seeing Sebastian smile as often as he had been was enough for you.

Harvey

The physical work was not Harvey’s specialty. After trying to assign him different tasks- you figured that you should let Harvey do what he wanted to do. After all, you married the goofball because you enjoyed his independent and nurturing side. (Getting patched up or given a deep tissue massage after a long day was wonderful.)

It wasn’t until you saw him grumbling over some paperwork that you asked him what he was doing, “I know I don’t have the endurance and strength to help you out on the farm, but I wanted to help you out at least in some way.” When he hands you the papers- you find out that he had been tallying every single expense made on the farm. In short, he decided he wanted to handle all of the farms finances whilst also checking crop prices each season and dating them back through the years to see what crops made the most money. “Grow potatoes in Spring, blueberries in Summer, and cranberries in the Fall.” He started, “As you can see here-“ and that’s where you lost him. Going through all the numbers made your head spin, but the fact that he did this all on his own and that he wanted to do it gave you so much relief. After a flurry of kisses- he was happy to know that he was doing a good thing.

Although you also find that when you patch up the Greenhouse- he gets excited. You find out that the expansive farm was just overwhelming to him and he didn’t want to get sunburned or heat exhaustion (which happened to you often.) You give him the territory of the Greenhouse and tell him, “Just work on it on the days you want too. You’re not required to do anything.”

You soon find it extremely touching though when he routinely presents you with flowers that he grew himself. He explains that he only wanted the Greenhouse to gift you flowers all year long.

Elliot

Elliot finds the farm relaxing and fascinating. Having only lived on the beach- the farm was an entirely new territory that he got to explore. Every day, you’d find breakfast on the table with a note on it. You understood the general theme within each note being about ‘beauty’. He’d ask you the same question every day once you finished reading it, “Do you understand it yet?” What does he mean by ‘yet’, you wonder? Sheepishly you finally understood what every single note meant, and he was writing about you the whole time. When tiny snowflakes covered your hair in the Winter when you came in in the evening to how the sunlight glistened on your skin in the Summer. You finally get that his real fascination was watching and admiring you while you worked.

That’s not to say that he didn’t help you sometimes. Working on the farm humbled him greatly and inspired him to continuously write every single day. Before you knew it- he had multiple books published that became successful, all because he had you and your farm as inspiration.

His biggest physical help on the farm was taking care of the plants that grew each of the three seasons. He loved working on the farm with you because his enjoyment was discovering the new leaves that grew over night- or that a flower would bud on the potatoes. He was routinely in awe at the new discoveries in plant life that he couldn’t give it up. You would give him a section of the farm to take care of- only come to find out that when you finished your section, he was too distracted by about the third plant that you would have to finish it for him. He would always profusely apologize about it, but you found it touching that even something as simple as a plant was just so exciting to him.

Sometimes he looked like a little kid- mouth agape and eyes sparkling when he’d see a plant, he personally took care of growing bigger and bigger. As a gift, you gave him planters so he could better watch the plant life grow. His big, sweet smiles stick in your mind, making you smile too. He was just too cute.

Shane

You expected him to basically fight you over the chicken coop. But with everything that Shane had been through- you didn’t want to stand in the way of what made him happy. He complained about his body a lot, but you will never see this man run harder just to tell you that a new chick hatched overnight. You’d find yourself just watching him as he would chase the chickens around the pen only to then get swarmed by them- knocking him in on his ass every time. You would just laugh amongst all the bawking as he’d try to free himself. Now, he never hurt a chicken, and they’ve never hurt him- they just swarm him because they want too. It’s like one minute you’re watering your crops, just to turn and hear him scream as a mass of feathers cover him. You’d wash his clothes and routinely find feathers stuck in his pockets- you decided to collect them. One day you’ll make fun of him for it or cover the entire side of his bed with them. The feather prank was all in your hands.

Now, you thought he just had an affection for the birds until you get him to talk about them. Shane knows EVERYTHING about chickens- when’s the best time to feed them, what to feed them, how much to feed them, how to take care of their feathers, how to handle an egg-bound chicken, how to care for newly hatched chicks- this man knew everything. It wasn’t long until he knew the exact spot each chicken loved to be scratched at.  He’d explain that every chicken had a different spot that they loved being petted at- it was mind boggling.

Now Jas knew a whole lot about farming, but Shane would consistently bring her to the farm. She loved it too! Jas got to see Shane genuinely happy all the time and it brought her a lot of comfort to see him mess with the chickens (and the chickens mess with him back.) She was so happy to know that Shane was content and satisfied with his life now- instead of lonely and depressed. He expressed joy, and even to Jas- Shane was teaching her new things about chickens every time she came over. She’s smart, but there were things that he shows her that blows her mind.

Through it all- you knew Shane wouldn’t be big on helping out on the farm, but you knew if you could get him in the chicken coop, it would make him undeniably happy. That was enough for you- you didn’t marry him to make him work on the farm- you married him because of his goof ball smile and nerdy talk about chickens and it made you so so happy.

It also helped that he could take a joke and that you two could tease each other- filling his side of the bed with feathers cracked you up at the twisted face he gave. He was happy, and that made you happy.

[crispycrimebrulee]

HI! Can i request chrollo with prompt 12? Thanksssss <3

Prompt #12: "I Miss You" "Don't Lie, I Know She's With You." [Angst!] [TW: Cheating] [Also Available on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/31658609 ]

Absence Makes The Heart Grow...Fickle.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Indeed, a statement that every relationship comes to meet, a milestone, a test of faith across miles of land and oceans, for if your love can withstand distance, surely it can withstand time, turmoil, and anything else.

And yet…

You find yourself, staring out of a raindrop riddled window, the soft hush of rainfall on adding fuel to your thoughts, watching your worries become realities as a pattern emerged from his constant actions…

Or lack thereof.

Could you blame him, though? Chrollo Lucilfer, feared among thieves and civilians alike, ruthlessness without bounds when he’s set on getting what he wants, going to any distance, metaphorical or physical to obtain what he wants most. You couldn’t really fault him for his distance; his distance in miles, being thousands of miles away gallivanting with his spiders on yet another quest, continuously building his legacy. You couldn’t blame him for his emotional distance either. He was an intense man to reach, to truly reach and understand and get close to. It would take ages of hard work and commitment to get him to share even a fraction of a clue of his own troubles to you. Not to mention, he always had something on his mind, a new quest, a new artifact, a new theory from his books, a new gang to silence, debts to collect...oh was he a busy man. You couldn’t blame him for being so far away, so distant…

And yet…

In the past he’d always made time for you, always called and made sure you were safe and taken care of while he was away. You’d been his top priority, his ultimate treasure, all quests and roads lead back to you at the end of a day or the end of a month, it was always your heart he returned home to and you welcomed him time and time again, how could you not? Everything about him was captivating, you’d be a fool to not let him in and have all that you are, albeit slowly and carefully, weary of what he was capable of.

Not weary enough, it seems.

You’d let him in, opened your doors to him and allowed him to gaze at what you thought was everything he wanted. Sure, it was everything he wanted, more than that by far. But as thieves go, they take without bounds and leave the door ajar, only a little so that they may slip in and steal whatever is left whenever they please, and you can do nothing to stop them seeing as only a fool lets a thief in their home.

He’d taken valuables beyond obtainable prices.

Love, time, faith, gentle smiles and gentler words, secrets of hopes and dreams and fears, all of it. He’d taken all of it without remorse on the basis of ‘your love could never be replaced’ promising he would only and always come back to you…

And.

Yet.

You already knew his heart and his eyes had wandered, from missed calls to missed dates to missed events to ‘forgetting to tell you he’d returned home’, to hearing whispers from shop owners mentioning they’d seen him with Her, his hand resting on the slope of Her hip, his eyes resting on Her hands as She held gifts from places he’d been, places he knows you could only dream of visiting, gifts that were seldom for you. He’d already tested the waters with another, already given in to a special kind of temptation, a one sided selfish temptation. What had you meant to him? Were you only someone to play with, something to fill a gap in his desires, desire for a sense of stability? Had he only spent years with you to play house with a docile routine only to put you on the shelf when the gap had closed, a new one opening where you did not fit? Were you another object he had to have, something to join a collection of used dolls, a worn out plaything, a gemstone now frosted and without luster, something to be given away with lesser value?

Of course, you little fool. What else would he want with you?

Only souls with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts think ruthlessness with no bounds have bounds in regards to another, and that they’ll be the special one, the one that gets spared and cherished. Do thieves cherish? Do thieves find things special beyond monetary value? What monetary value did you hold?

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

You could only think about what She’d done to coax him away, or what She hadn’t done at all. You thought about it as you would walk to the store, the park, the bank, and glimpses of Her would cross your eyes clear as day, the scent of Her perfume, the clatter of Her bracelets, the sound of Her shoes on the pavement going to wherever Chrollo was, wherever he wasn’t with you, the place he said he would always return to. And at first, it was merely suspicion, something you talked yourself out of on nights where he was home but away from you, nights where he failed to call, night where you’d caught glimpses of them out late at night as though you wouldn’t notice.

Ruthlessness without bounds.

Suspicion only lead to confirmation by others and by your own eyes, accidentally of course, when he would come home and find Her earrings in his pocket, love letters in his jacket no longer addressed to you, Her perfume lingering on his shirt and pressed to his skin, catching the notes of sandalwood and citrus as he dared to sleep beside you on nights he could not sleep beside Her.

You could blame him.

And you did.

Your caring, your desperation and sorrow and attempts to reach out to him while he was wrapped up in satin sheets with Her only added fuel to his ill willed fire. You simply stepped back, two can play at that game.

You stopped wearing the foreign gifts, stopped reading the dull love letters, stopped sending calls and messages to someone who clearly did not care to receive them or not. To lose power, leverage, the damage it does to know what the ruthlessness of an old lover can do.

Being so easily let go, like the treasures he sells, was too much for him it seemed.

So much so, that your phone rang, his name lighting up the screen. You looked at it, letting the ringing pass through you as you considered if you should leave him wondering and falling apart.

Wondering too long, the call fell, the abrupt end to the rings bringing you out of your thoughts as you went back to watching the rain fall.

No more than 5 minutes, it seemed, before the phone rang again, Chrollo seemingly desperate to reach you now, more so than he ever had.

Once, twice, three times your phone rang before you picked it up slowly, a somber hello drawn out from you.

“Y/N… I haven’t heard you in some time-”

“I know.” you cut him off, your voice soft but stern and unamused.

He was silent for a moment, the sound of rain on both ends prodding at your thoughts again.

“You’ve been well, I hope? I’ve sent some things over to you from my recent trip.”

“Mmm… I never got them.” you lied, of course, knowing the small packages remind untouched, sitting outside on your balcony getting soaked by the rain.

“I’m sure I sent them, y/n, a few things I know you’d enjoy.” he hummed as he seemed to be lacing his words with sweetness, too much for his own sake, really.

“I’ll look out for them.”

Although you knew you wouldn’t.

He sighed, a rare sign from him, the sound of him sitting down from wherever he is, making the audio crackle.

“I’ve been gone a while, y/n.”

“I know. I know more than anyone.”

“I haven’t called as much as you’d like me to, it’s my fault my love.”

“It is your fault, Chrollo.”

Silence.

“Y/n…”

“Chrollo.”

“I miss you.”

You tilted your head to the side, watching the raindrops race down the window as Chrollo lied his finest lie.

“Don’t lie, I know She’s with you.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you could sense the shift in the atmosphere, was the shift from losing his chance to reconcile? Losing his chance to explain? Or from being caught like a rat in a cage of his own making?

“Y/n there's-”

“Tell me, Chrollo...do you miss me when you run your fingers through Her hair?”

“...”

“Or when you kiss Her hand and walk Her home?”

Deathly silence from someone so brazen...

“Do you miss me when your lips brush against Her skin, do you think of me then?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you ended the call, knowing the damage on both ends had been done. You wouldn’t answer his calls, late or early, for the next few days as you planned to find a new place to stay, somewhere he wouldn’t find for a little while. His gifts provided ample financial help when traded in pawn shops, allowing you to gather yourself quickly and vanish in the same fashion that he did.

Your doors were closed, now, less of a fool for a thief with no bounds.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it leaves the rest of you lonely.

[knickynoo]

Gonna regret asking this as soon as you answer, but what do you think Marty would’ve done had doc actually died in the parking lot? Like immediately and beyond? And just to spread the pain around, what would doc have done had Marty died by buford’s hand?

This is another one of those asks that got backlogged. Sorry, anon. I've given some thought to these scenarios, though, and, well...I'm sorry. This is gonna be dark.

Had Doc not heeded Marty's warning and actually died (& assuming Marty re-loading the time machine with plutonium and trying to fix things isn't possible for some reason):

Marty would've continued to sit on the cold ground, sobbing for a long while. Einstein would join him, torn between trying to comfort his young friend and whimpering by Doc, trying to get the man to wake up.

Once the initial flood of tears eases, I could see Marty getting angry. Like, the angriest he's ever been. Screaming at Doc, at himself, and maybe finding things in Doc's truck to throw around and destroy. Then another wave of sadness would hit and he'd break down again.

Eventually, Marty would realize he needed to get moving. Someone was bound to see the fire caused by the Libyans' van and also the truck, DeLorean on the street in town, and the man lying dead in the mall parking lot. He'd know that the police would soon be called and that there would be a lot of questions that he'd rather not have to answer, but Marty would be very hesitant to go. He wouldn't want to leave his best friend. How could he? It would be a betrayal. He'd be a coward to run. Doc wouldn't leave him if the roles were reversed. So he'd stay, shivering in the cold night air, trying to figure out what he'll say. What they'll ask him.

After, he'd find a payphone and call the police himself. Upon their arrival, though, he'd lean into his own hysteria and act like he had no clue what happened. Maybe explain he was Doc's assistant and that he'd been asked to come to the mall but he'd shown up late and found the scene as it was already. When it came down to it, Marty would really be too much of a mess to talk to anyone, and the authorities on the scene would just see a distraught kid who needed to get home.

(There's a lot that could probably be said about how things would unfold once Marty got home, but in the interest of wanting to skip ahead, I'll just say that George and Lorraine would be horrified. Scared out of their minds and confused at what had happened. They'd likely do everything in their power to shield Marty from questions and prying eyes in the weeks that would follow)

Oh, right...on top of Doc being dead and Marty having witnessed it (twice!), he'd also have to deal with the whiplash at his suddenly new family. Which would really not be a good situation.

Things would rapidly fall apart for Marty once the dust settled and the reality of things set in. He'd be dealing with a family who all felt like strangers. He'd have no memories of ever having lived with those people. He wouldn't even be able to talk to Jennifer about anything for fear of sounding crazy and scaring her away. His best friend in the world, the only person who Marty felt truly understood him, was gone.

I think some pretty significant PTSD would be likely. Marty would have constant nightmares of Doc getting killed. Of trying and failing over and over to save him. And even with his loving, supportive parents doing all they can, it wouldn't be enough. Marty wouldn't feel a real connection to them or want their help. He wouldn't want Jennifer's help. He'd just want Doc back. He'd torture himself with thoughts of what he could have done differently that night he left 1955 or upon his arrival back to '85. He'd blame himself entirely for not trying hard enough. Not being smart enough or brave enough to have done something to save Doc.

Things would only be made worse as rumors swirled around town. Doc would be solidified as a villain in Hill Valley. A crazy, dangerous man who drew terrorists to their quiet little town and almost got a teenager killed. Marty would have to listen to whispers of people's theories as to what happened that night and hear them express their relief that Doc was no longer around to cause them any trouble. People would shoot Marty sideways glances, either looking down on him for having been acquainted with the deranged scientist or holding pity for him. Classmates would harass and taunt him, wanting to know what happened. Wanting to hear the "real story".

All the while, Marty is consumed by a grief he's unable to escape. He'd probably go one of two ways. Too depressed to function, he'd sort of withdraw entirely from life. Break up with Jennifer, shut his family out, abandon his music, etc. He'd see no real point in trying to make a good life for himself and be too anxious to ever move out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, he could give in to his anger and swing the other way, becoming self-destructive and sabotaging his future--drinking, dropping out of school, and using his fists to deal with any peers who dare to say a bad word about Doc. Either way, he'd be upset at himself because he'd know Doc would want better for him. Expect better of him. But he wouldn't be able to pull himself together because he'd be so stuck having convinced himself Doc's death was his fault.

Where would all of this leave our dear Marty as the years pass? I'm not sure. He'd either spiral totally beyond reach or eventually hit rock bottom and realize that he had to let go of all the sadness and anger and live up to all the potential Doc was always saying he had. At that point, though, he would have lost years to his grief, so getting his life together would be difficult. And...yeah.

That was lovely, wasn't it? Doc's turn!

Had Marty actually been killed by Buford (again assuming using time travel to fix things isn't an eventual option):

I feel like, initially, Doc would skip right past the devastated/crying phase and go immediately to a level of anger he'd never felt before. Do you remember how he acted when Buford was harassing Clara at the dance, especially when she was pushed down? Remember how it took 3 of Buford's guys to hold Doc back?? Yeah, well, take that and multiply it a couple of times.

I think it's quite possible that Doc would attempt to take Buford down right there, which likely wouldn't end well for him. But he wouldn't even care. He was heartbroken already over Clara and then his best friend in the world is killed in front of him. All rational parts of Doc would be gone. And seeing as Buford is, you know, dangerously unhinged and has his little posse with him, Doc might end up getting himself killed a minute or two later as well. In which case...well, that would be the end of this scenario. He and Marty would end up buried next to each other in the Old West.

If Doc somehow managed to survive an encounter with Buford, or if he didn't confront him at all because he was in such a state of shock, I think he'd resign himself to a quiet, lonely life in the 1880s. I'm not sure if he'd stay in town and work as a blacksmith. Maybe? If he wanted the distraction? But he also might move away to a little house and just live off the land.

Not sure how Clara would factor in, assuming she'd return to town to find Doc after getting off her train. I don't know if Doc would push her away, wanting to be totally alone in his misery or if he would cling to her.

Doc would be dealing with a lot of guilt. He'd decide that he was responsible for Marty's death. After all, he'd made the decision to stay in the saloon all night, and Marty had to then track him down. Then he'd taken that shot and passed out, costing them valuable time they could have otherwise used to be well on their way to the train. They could have avoided Buford altogether if it weren't for him, Doc would conclude, and in his mind, he'd essentially forced Marty to have to face the man.

Doc might eventually settle into a routine and go about living his life, but I don't know that he'd ever recover from the crushing guilt he'd feel. Losing Marty would shatter him. Marty was the first person to reach out to him, even with all the rumors and disdain other residents of the town threw his way. Marty liked and accepted him for who he was, something no one else had ever truly done. Marty brought so much good into his life, and in exchange, Doc had done all he could to be there for and protect his young friend--to help him see his own potential. But he couldn't protect Marty, and that failure would hurt more deeply than every other one combined.

Basically, I think that Doc would just lose part of himself after losing Marty. Even if he married Clara and had Jules and Verne and ended up with a nice life, he'd always feel the absence of his friend. He wouldn't ever fully be "Doc" again--more of a subdued, more serious version of himself.

I could see him holding it together for the most part, being a family man, all that stuff. But then he'd have moments where he'd find himself alone and just fall apart. And just to make things extra sad for anyone who's read this far, I imagine Doc taking very frequent trips to wherever Marty is buried, laying a few flowers down, and staying there for hours, crying, praying, talking to himself, or just sitting in silence.

Well. Anyway.

Thanks for the ask?

[primasveraas-writing]

As Family Does - SWR

In snippets, Hera experiences the ups and downs of motherhood, and all the wonderful relationships her son has with family near and so very far away.

WORD COUNT: 2206

XXX

Kanan

A sharp, desperate cry, and Hera’s world changed forever.

Jacen Syndulla was a testament to his parents’ strength long before he came into the world. He emerged bloodied, during battle and war, but the galaxy suddenly recentered itself around this tiny, helpless being.

Hera should have been used to this kind of change by now- in less than a year, her whole life had been broken and reformed in more ways than she could count.

And yet- so much of it was good, Hera thought, as the squirming baby was placed on her chest. This love she felt was so familiar, after carrying her son for 9 months, after loving his father, after being family and foster mother to Ezra and Sabine. She felt it in every cell of her body, so much that it was hard to breathe.

“You did it, Hera,” Zeb said, sounding rather choked up. Hera nodded, numb to the rest of the galaxy, save for her child in her arms, and realized that there were hot tears on her face. She sobbed, her whole body convulsing, and that hurt, but she didn’t care. She’d faced greater pain and been awarded less joy at the end of it all.

The baby wailed again, and Hera gasped- the boy’s eyes had flown open, revealing a clear, vibrant blue. His skin was tinted green and his features were already sharp, sure hallmarks of his mother’s identity but his eyes- they were Kanan’s eyes.

She never thought she’d see them again, and she sobbed harder. Even with the hormone changes that came with pregnancy, it had been a long time since Hera had cried this much. She felt Zeb’s hand on her shoulder and the love in the air. She cried tears of happiness, as new parents do, and tears of sorrow because Kanan wasn’t there to meet his son, nor Ezra to meet his baby brother.

But still- she knew Kanan loved her and he loved their son. She knew Ezra would too, when he came home. Their love was still with her, even if they were not.

That would be enough for now. Hera had her son and her beloved’s eyes, and the love needed to carry her through this and darker days.

Chopper

Hera knew- despite her avoidance of the fact- that Jacen couldn’t stay with her forever. She wasn’t the only one in the Rebellion with a young child, but she was the only general with a newborn. Somewhere in the galaxy, there had to be a safe place for her son, and she would find it. But for now, she kept him the best she could, even if it would only be for the first months of his life.

The fear and the exhaustion of war were heightened by bringing an infant into it. They threatened Hera in her lowest moments, but then there was Zeb, putting Jacen back to sleep in the middle of the night before she could get out of bed, or Kallus quietly filling out her rising piles of paperwork when she was too busy or too tired to do it herself.

It was okay- a new challenge, a new routine, and an ever-constant show of their resilience. She witnessed love and community in all parts of her life, from her kid pilots offering to babysit, to the Organas sharing some old baby toys and clothes. Even the most unlikely of figures rallied around her, and for that, Hera was grateful. Sometimes, she would even have time to herself.

One of these calm afternoons was spent completing mission reports while Jacen slept, which Hera boldly presumed would last long enough for her to catch up on everything she had to do. As soon as she dared to hope this, however, a mechanical whirr indicated the presence of Chopper- and serenity rarely, if ever, followed him.

Where is the new one? He asked, disregarding the fact that Hera was very clearly busy.

“The new one- you mean Jacen?”

He’s new. Her droid was very matter-of-fact about this statement.

“He’s a baby, Chop,” Hera amended, and the astromech beside her warbled in disagreement.

He has not been around very long. He has not done many things either. Therefore, he is new.

“Whatever you say.”

Chopper didn’t humor her further, only groaned in complaint, and waited for a response. Hera rolled her eyes, but obliged. “He’s down for his afternoon nap. Same as yesterday. Why?”

She received no reply, other than a broken lament that the little one took too long to recharge, then her oldest companion rolled off and out of sight. Hera sighed and turned back to her work.

Later, Hera glanced at the chrono and readied herself for her son’s cries, but the Ghost remained silent and lonely. She crept down the room towards the pilot’s quarters, the door still open so that she might reach Jacen faster. Perhaps she would find him still asleep, and she could clean or shower with the extra few minutes to herself.

She instead discovered her baby wriggling happy on his cot, Chopper looming over him. One of his mechanical arms was extended, dangling Jacen’s favorite tooka in front of him. Chopper made gentle sounds, and Jacen grinned up at him.

So Chopper had a heart, beyond the occasional moment of mercy. Hera hid her mouth with her hand, ignoring the wetness in her eyes, and watched the scene from the doorway.

Zeb

It might not have been fair to blame a baby for picking favorites before he could talk, but Hera still shook her head as Zeb passed back Jacen, who wailed the second he left the Lasat’s arms. Zeb chuckled at the reaction, scratching at the back of his neck, but shrunk instantly at Hera’s glare

“Aw, com’on,” Zeb tried while Jacen furiously kicked against Hera. “He doesn’t mean anything by it. Nobody holds a candle to ya, Hera.” He finished the statement rather ungracefully, as Hera relinquished Jacen, plopping him back in Zeb’s arms. As soon as she did, Jacen giggled, clutching at Zeb’s fur and gurgling happily, his woes entirely forgotten.

“You’d think he’d be a little more grateful to the one who feeds him,” Hera said dryly, regarding Jacen with her hands on her hips. Zeb shrugged, looking vaguely sheepish.

“I’m just softer than ya, that’s all,” Zeb assured her, snuggling Jacen against his chest. When Hera raised an eyebrow at him, he laughed in surprise.

“Lasat kits like to sleep on their parents,” he explained, “but some of us like to say that they prefer the Lasat with the longest and softest fur.”

“Well, you certainly have me beat there,” Hera conceded, and Zem hummed in agreement, rocking Jacen in his arms. He babbled cheerfully, and Zeb laughed again. “Maybe nobody holds a candle to Uncle Zeb, either,” she said, her tone hushed, and Zeb froze. “We’re both lucky to have you.”

Zeb didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he shifted Jacen to one side and slung his free arm around Hera’s shoulders. She leaned into the embrace, and Zeb pulled her closer.

“We’re family,” he said gruffly, his voice suspiciously thick. “Of course I’ll take care of you both.”

The admonition sent warmth flooding through Hera’s chest, and she sniffed. That was what she’d count on through it all- her family and their love, unfaltering.

Sabine

Each of Jacen’s milestones- his first smile and wave and babble of a word- came with the reminder that Kanan wasn’t there to witness them too. Her son had just started to lift his own head when the anniversary of his father’s death passed, and Hera realized with grief weighing on her heart that even the idea of Kanan would be unfamiliar to Jacen for the first years of his life.

Her sorrow at the fact that “Dada” wouldn’t be among Jacen’s collection of first words (which included “Mama,” “ship,” “no!” and “Chop”) was expressed to Sabine during an exhausted and teary conversation. Together, they concluded that Kanan would have made a great dad, if he didn’t collapse from the stress while doing it, and the two women held each other until the talk turned back to recollecting fond memories at laughter at what once was.

In one of the biggest shocks of Hera’s life, the grief became lighter and easier to carry. She knew it would never leave her, but at least she didn’t bear it alone.

When Jacen turned one, she declared it a happy occasion and resolved not to spend too long dwelling on those not present to celebrate with them. There were still wistful smiles and comforting hugs, but as luck would have it, she had Zeb, Alexsandr, Rex, and Sabine all with her to mark the occasion, and that was a happy blessing on its own.

Jacen destroyed the small cake Alexsandr had made for him with pudgy fists, smearing it all over his face and onesie. Hera laughed, trying not to think of the possibility of finding uneaten food in Jacen’s diaper again, and their small family celebrated, and it was good.

They exchanged presents before everyone had to return to their respective duties. Mother and son received a collection of toys and bigger clothes, and Hera was even gifted a nice bottle of wine for her to enjoy after surviving a year of motherhood.

At the end, when it was just her and Sabine sweeping crumbs off the floor of the galley, the young Mandalorian presented her a final gift. An intricately bound book, made from sketch flimsi and filled with page after page of illustrations. It told a story, in few words and in brilliant, dynamic colors, of a Jedi, a hero, on quests to make the galaxy a better place. The Jedi wielded a blue lightsaber, and although he could be grumpy, he was deeply loyal to his friends, and he always came in to save the day. His face was unmistakable, his demeanor kind and familiar.

“So Jacen can know his dad,” Sabine said, and her voice was carefully measured. “I never thought I’d illustrate a kid’s book.”

Hera had no words, so she threw her arms around Sabine instead, murmuring her thanks through her tears. Sabine accepted the hug, squeezing Hera just as tight, and they stayed that way for a long while.

Ezra

Jacen grew and grew until he no longer fit in her arms- or rather, he wiggled out of them every time Hera tried to pick him up. He started to beg to learn how to fly as the war drew to a close but it wasn’t until after the Battle of Endor that Hera felt the skies were safe enough for her son.

Sabine teased her that Jacen inherited his recklessness from both sides of the family. Hera couldn’t bring herself to disagree, but she looked around at her friends and family- Mandalorians and Lasats and spies and galactic heroes- and thought that her child’s thrill-seeking tendencies came more from his company rather than his blood.

The conclusion of the war didn’t mean the end of the fighting, but peace was at last on the horizon and her fellow rebels begun planning their lives in this new, free galaxy. Hera could be a mother full-time now, and not have to worry if each goodbye to her son would be her last.

She thought that this would mean fulfillment- and in many ways, it did. The galaxy was entering a new age, but there were too many things left behind for Hera to move on completely. Much of it, she would never get back- but for some, there remained hope of rescue.

She saw so much of Ezra in Jacen. His energy, for one, and his innocence. His optimism, too- Jacen was a happy baby and nothing short of an ebullient child. Hera and Kallus liked to joke that his smile could light up the galaxy. It was impossible, when gazing into Jacen’s blue eyes, not to see the hope and love of another boy who once looked to her as a mother. They had so much in common, these children of war, but their biggest similarity was those who loved them.

Sabine was the first one to teach her the bittersweet pride of a child leaving the nest, and she came to Hera again to tell her that she must go. Hera had fear and love and faith for her, but little surprise when Sabine promised to bring Ezra home. With a blessing and a plea to stay safe, she hugged Sabine tight and watched her set off into the galaxy again.

When evening fell, and Hera was alone again, Jacen approached his mother and snuggled into her arms. As much as she tried to protect her son, he always seemed to know when she was sad.

Hera didn’t think that she’d ever be complete without Kanan, without Ezra, without everyone she’d lost in a lifetime at war. But she was not alone, she knew- she had her son in her embrace and a family in every corner of the galaxy. That, for now, was enough, and she had hope that she would see them all again one day.

[moral-turpitudes]

Swan Lake:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

A/N: This idea came to me at like 3 am and idk why, it’s totally not canon or whatever but it was fun to write. I also don’t know anything about ballet so don’t come for my neck lol. 

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Slight Mentions of/Implied Physical and Emotional Abuse, Descriptions of Death/Fighting etc.

Word Count: 3,977

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

+ Jack Timmons (OC, albeit a shitty one)

Requested: No

Summary: After constant threats of losing her position in a prominent ballet company, Y/N feels trapped in her circumstances. That is until an infamous blue-eyed gangster stumbles upon her one night, helping her leave her past behind, because sometimes that’s the best thing you can do.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.” Y/N counted to herself as she rehearsed in the quiet concert hall. Her nerves still a mess as the ear-splitting voice of her department head played on a loop in her mind. His harsh words stinging as she continued on.

With every leap and pirouette, her toes and tired muscles screamed to be free from their routine binds that held them together. Her corset digging into her skin, the paper thin pantyhose ripping on her knees from a nasty fall, and her feet cracking and bleeding with each new pair of ballet slippers she broke-in. On nights like this, she often questioned what she was doing this for. Was it for glory? For money? For distraction? It seemed only time could tell.

Unbeknownst to her, a man looked on from the dark entrance. A cigarette in hand as he observed her movements. His eyes alert as he’d heard a man yelling moments before.

Smoke escaped his lips as he watched in silence. The only music coming from inside the woman’s head, her body moving in strict motions to the beat she’d memorized from the orchestra that would usually play during shows. Her instructors voices in her head, threatening to fire her if she didn’t do better.

She never thought that something that brought her so much joy could bring her so much pain, but that seemed to be how things went in life, at least for her.

As she ended her dance, she sat on the cold stage, untying the stiff slippers and wincing as the fabric clung to her bloodied feet. No matter the cloth she put around them, she always found cuts and blisters ambushing her skin. This was the price she paid for perfection. Dancing was her “thing.” Her one gift to the world. The one thing that she’d always have, that no one could ever take away from her.

But with tear filled eyes she looked up at the spotlight beaming down on her, the makeup that was once well kept, slowly being washed away by the tears rushing down her cheeks.

As she ripped her gaze from the blinding light, she thought she felt eyes on her. Feverishly blinking the colorful spots on her vision away as she looked out into the empty seats, where a set of blue eyes stared back, their owner stoic and unmoving.

“Hello?” She asked, her heart racing slightly as she painstakingly walked off the stage and down the middle isle towards the man. Trying her best to wipe her tears away.

“Sorry to startle you miss. Just observing.” He said gruffly, cigarette smoke escaping his lips.

“Why are you here...? What’s your name...? Who do you work for...?” She asked in a barrage of questions, her nerves frazzled as she stood before him.

His blue eyes pierced hers as he took in the state of her. Elegantly hiding the pain behind a powder pink façade.

“I stopped in while on business and I heard yelling.” He said, adjusting his peaked cap, the razor blades glinting off the dull light from outside the theater.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized what gang he was a part of. Remembering talk around the city that they were moving in on London. Making threats and crashing party halls more often than not.

“Everything’s fine, sir.” She said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“You don’t look fine.” He said.

“You haven’t answered my questions, sir.” She said, deflecting his comments and looking at him skeptically. With a sigh, and a long drag from his cigarette, he spoke.

“My name is Thomas, Thomas Shelby. But you can call me Tommy if you like...” He said walking towards her. Her heart racing slightly as she stood in place.

“...and I’m a man who does bad things. But don’t worry love, I have no bad business with you.” He said, gradually walking towards door.

“Wait....” She said, looking around the empty theater nervously as he stopped in his tracks.

“Why exactly were you watching me?” She asked, walking to him.

He sighed as the cigarette burnt down to the last little bit, ending with him throwing it on the tiled floor and stomping it out.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright....and then I saw you dancing to no music. It intrigued me.” He said flatly.

“How so?” She said, crossing her arms at the infamous gang leader.

“Because I can hear it too.” He said.

“You memorized the song? How? You haven’t seen the show.” She said, walking down the stairs with the mysterious man.

“My mother used to play it at home and she’d dance, quite like you. I recognized the routine.” He said, standing near the exit. The streets bustling with people under the moonlit sky.

“You don’t look like someone who listens to music. Do you dance?” She asked, beguiled by the rather handsome blinder.

“I liked a lot of things before the war. Dancing was one of them. But now?.....No.” he said shaking his head slightly as he continued.

“Sometimes life has a way of taking things from us.” He said softly, lighting another cigarette as he stood before her.

“That it does.” She said, glancing at her tired hands as he observed her once more, how she stood and how her hair fell limply around her face, framing it ever so gently.

“I’m probably overstepping my bounds...Tommy. But uh, if you’re ever in need of dancing lessons...I can help. Free of charge.” She said, the thought escaping her lips on a whim. Her mind racing with wanting to dance anywhere but there in that dreadful theater.

“Free of charge aye? Do you make a lot at these shows?” He asked, his eyes boring into hers.

“No. I’m actually on my way out. Was almost fired for the last show. I wasn’t good enough.” She said looking down.

“That’s a shame. I thought you did great.” He said.

“Tell that to the department head. I’m tired of ruining my body for something that doesn’t pay. I’d rather do it for fun. At least then life might be worth living.” She said, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her pent up feelings slowly trickling out as the minutes passed.

“What do you do for fun, Tommy?” She asked, changing the subject.

He stood in thought, never really taking into account anything besides the noise in his head or the ache in his heart. Never giving himself the time for anything reminiscent of fun.

“I uh, work with horses I guess.” He said.

She nodded and sat in a chair near the exit, wincing and fiddling with the tulle of her tutu.

“So what do you say? Dancing or no?” She asked, a small smirk playing at her lips.

“I’ll accept your offer, on two conditions.” He said.

“Alright, what are your conditions oh infamous Mr. Shelby?” She asked, seeing a small smirk on his face. One that seemed to be uncomfortable, like it had been hidden for years.

“That you give me the name of your department head, and let me employ you.” He said bluntly.

“I’m not a killer, I’m just a dancer.” She said, looking down at her wrists. Bruises forming from many routines throughout the week and from her vile department head.

“You won’t deal with that kind of business. But I’d like to pay you. I can see that you work hard for what you want.” He said sitting next to her.

“You want me to dance for you? What like at some whore house?” She scoffed.

“No. You can dance for fun or teach or whatever it is you want to do. But a job with me, in my shop, can bring you the money you’re looking for. You won’t have to beat yourself up anymore.” He said, noticing the bruising hand prints around her wrists.

“I’ll think about it.” She said quietly, getting up and stretching out her arms, her muscles aching at the movement. Thomas headed towards the door abruptly, not wanting to keep her any longer considering he’d given orders to his brothers a while ago.

“Hey...” She said, stopping him.

“Mhmm?” He mumbled, lighting another cigarette.

“His name is Mr. Timmons. Jack Timmons. I hope you find him.” She said giving him a small, hurting smile before heading back towards the theater.

“Oh and miss?” He called back, making her turn around.

“Yes?”

“I never got your name.” He said.

“It’s Y/N...Y/N Y/L/N.” she said. Thomas nodded and reluctantly turned around, walking slowly into the night the next man on his hit list already buzzing through his mind.

As he stepped onto the cold London streets, he saw his brothers drinking and waiting by the car. Their faces covered in smoke-residue from their mission.

“Oi! What the fuck took you so long aye? We torched the bar down the road so we need to go.” Arthur said, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey he’d stolen.

“I was doing a bit of legitimate business. Did you lot get the money?” He asked, revving the engine and peeling out onto the cold, damp roads towards Small Heath.

“Yeah. Got the whole thing. They won’t mess with us again. What kind of business were you doing in a fucking theater?” Arthur asked.

“Probably fucking one of the dancers.” John said, the toothpick dangling precariously on the edge of his mouth.

“I saw people leaving the show and decided to go there to clean off from our last raid. And I heard a man yelling at some woman there. He’s uh, been a bit of a problem but I can’t tell by how much just yet. He’s been working the woman to death for little pay...so I offered her a spot here.” He said.

“Why are you so caught up on the woman? What, is she gonna dance around the shop all day?” John asked, earning a chuckle from a drunken Arthur.

“I’m thinking she’d make a good assistant. I watched her after he left. She was the only one there, working on the same routine for an hour straight. Was bleeding by the time she was done.” He said.

“Well besides the woman, what are you wanting to do with the man aye? We’ve caused enough trouble here so far.” John said.

“I have a feeling this man is abusing the whole company or at least the woman I spoke to. She’s miserable, you can see it in her eyes. I only saw eyes like that in the trenches.” He said quietly, looking out at the sky through the thin windshield.

Over the next few days, it seemed her plight only grew as the dancers rehearsed, their instructors criticizing more than helping them as they moved to the beat. Y/N’s eyes fearful as their department head entered the room. The music stopping as they all sat on the stage as instructed.

Behind the stage, Thomas watched silently as the instructor eyed the women. The mans eyes only seeing money and fame instead of them as people. But his gaze seemed reserved for Y/N especially.

She was bruised from the repeated practice, the falls, and from the mans calloused hands that beat her beyond the theater walls. Threatening to fire her if she didn’t improve. Claiming he was “trying to save the company’s image.” Telling her she’d be working the streets in no time if she failed again.

Even though she tried her best, often putting in more work than her peers, it still wasn’t enough for Mr. Timmons and his dreadful company. The only thing getting her by was knowing that after the big show, things would settle down, knowing he’d go back to just yelling at her and occasionally at the others, instead of talking with his fists. But the pay remained the same, barely keeping a roof over her head throughout the years.

“Y/N, I’ve seen your performances these past few weeks and they’re all the same. The turns are too loose, your footing is off, and you’re out of step with the others. I don’t see why you can’t do better.” He said loudly as she stared him down. White-hot tears brimmed in her eyes as her face heated up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. None the wiser to the blinder who’d watched it all unfold.

“Meet me backstage after this will ya? We have to discuss some matters over your position here.” He said, walking to the next girl and nodding his head. He moved on from each person giving small snide remarks, but they were nothing compared to what she’d gotten, and it filled her with rage. With a sigh, she wiped her tears and stood up. Decided then and there that she’d walk out. To make a scene like she’d dreamt to during the 5 years she’d worked there.

“Mr. Timmons...the only thing you’ll be doing backstage is shoving these up your ass.” She said, chucking the bloodied ballet slippers at him before exiting the stage and going to her dressing room, locking the door.

Thomas watched silently until Mr. Timmons excused the rest of them, leaving only him and the poor excuse for a man in the dimly lit area back stage.

As the man walked with a master key towards Y/N’s dressing room, Thomas quickly came up behind him. Hitting him in the back of the head with his gun and wrestling him to the floor. The man screaming through a bloodied mouth as he landed punch after punch to his face. Thomas soon removing his cap and slicing the mans eyes, blinding him instantly before shooting him.

Y/N watched from the doorway, dressed from head to toe in her normal clothes she’d came in with. Her eyes red and swollen from crying and her body aching from the mornings work.

She stood there silently, the sight of the man who tormented her making her smile slightly as she realized she was free of him.

“Y/N....” Thomas said, wiping the blood from his face as best he could as he stood up from the mans limp body.

“Thank you.” She said, sniffling a bit as she kept her tears at bay this time. Walking quickly out the door to the outside of the building, the cars whizzing by as the cold wind crept through her clothes.

Thomas quickly draped a nearby blanket over Timmons’ body, dragging it to the dressing room. But before leaving he retrieved the master key from his limp hand, locking the dead man inside as he cleaned up the mess from his handy-work.

As he looked in the bathroom mirror minutes later, he could see the blood on his skin, the metallic smell barely phasing him as he washed it down the drain. After cleaning up, he headed out the door, finding Y/N sitting on the pavement smoking a cigarette.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, sitting by her and lighting his own, his hands bleeding slightly from the blows to Timmons’ face.

“Why not.” She said, fiddling with a pink ribbon in her hands that once kept her hair tightly in place.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said, sighing as he looked out at the mid afternoon sky. The city bustling around them.

“It’s alright. I’ve wanted that to happen for 5 years. Don’t worry though, after knowing him, nothing really scares me.” She said with a small smile, relief finally hitting her as she realized she’d probably never have to face the man again.

“He’s dead though right? Like you made sure he’s never coming back?” She asked, her eyes still nervously scanning the roads out of habit as the doubt crept in.

“He’s never coming back. I’m burying him tonight.” He said.

“Make sure it’s deep.” She said, the bruises on her wrists more prominent in the daylight.

“Always do.” He said looking at her wrists with a clenched jaw. Knowing full well Timmons was behind it.

“I’ve uh, thought about your offer by the way.” She said looking down at the ribbon.

“You have aye?” He asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. Her voice bringing him out of his thoughts a bit.

“Yeah. I’d like to try it out, if you’d still want me there. I don’t know what a ballerina could offer the company but, it beats where I was.” She said, cringing internally at all the painful memories which unfortunately often overshadowed the good ones.

“I’ve seen you work hard so far, so I figured making you my assistant would be a good position. You’ll come in at 8, and leave by 6 on most days.” He said.

“Most days? What happens on the other days?” She asked.

“On those days you keep busy so you don’t think about how or if we’ll return. You’ll help keep the shop in line along with my aunt Polly until one of us walks through the door. For your safety.” He said.

“Do all the assistants and secretaries work that late?” She asked.

“Only on those nights they do.” He said.

“Alright. May I ask one question?” She said.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, blowing smoke from his lips. He stared at her while she thought over her words, her eyes not as miserable as before.

It made him feel better knowing that even though he couldn’t save the men in the trenches, he could at least save her. Someone who shared their same eyes, their same exhaustion, their same fear of not knowing what was next.

“Why me? You could hire anyone else. Any other woman for that matter. But you chose me...” She said, putting her cigarette out on the damp dirt road.

Thomas sighed for a moment, not wanting to tell her he couldn’t help but fall for a beautiful woman even though they’d just met. No matter her profession, he didn’t expect a ballet dancer to steal his heart so quickly and effortlessly.

“I could see you were different.” He said.

“How so?” She asked, his answer not enough as she looked into his eyes. They were like looking into the ocean, threatening to pull her under.

“When I came in after doing some business and saw you there practicing, you intrigued me. You were dancing with no music, but still trying no matter what happened.” He said.

“You saw me fall aye?” She said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but I also saw what you did after....It’s always about what someone does after the fall, that makes a person who they are. I guess I chose you because you didn’t give up.” He said.

“And I thought it was because I was wearing a pretty pink ballet costume.” She said, smirking.

“That might also be a reason.” He said with a smirk. After a long pause, he spoke again, this time more quietly.

“For the record Y/N, I truly don’t see why the others treated you like they did....But I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He said.

“A man like you making promises? That’s a bold move.” She said, her heart racing as she held his hand gently, nervous to touch someone in a way that wasn’t done in self defense.

“I’m a bold man.” He said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Oh really?” She said with a smirk.

“I can show you.” He said, leaning towards her as she did the same. She couldn’t help but feel differently towards him. He didn’t make her feel scared or on-edge like so many people before her. Instead oddly enough, the dashing blinder made her feel safe.

It was in that moment that he too realized he hadn’t felt this way in a while, since before the war. The only comfort he’d ever found previously was at the bottom of a bottle or beneath the sheets in a brothel. The feelings felt out of place, the noise from the war competing with the song in his head, the same one from her shows. The same one from years ago at home.

With a calloused hand, he caressed her cheek, looking into her as eyes as the sun shined into them. Their color illuminated by its rays as he brought her lips to his, a wave of relief washing over him as he felt her relax into the kiss instead of pulling away.

“So...when do I start?” She asked after he broke the kiss, her eyes trailing to his lips.

“Tomorrow. I can pick you up.” He said.

“Won’t you be tired from burying Mr. Timmons? I can drive myself.” She said.

“It’s not my first time burying someone love. I’ll swing by in the morning.” He said, getting up.

“Alright...see you then.” She said, a genuine grin forming on her face for what felt like the first time in years as she watched him head off towards his car.

Over the next few weeks, she became acquainted with everyone in the shop. Polly taking a special liking to her as she loved dancing as well.

“You’ll never catch me dancing ballet. Maybe a waltz but never ballet.” She said one morning.

“I can teach you, it’ll do you some good. Keep you strong.” Y/N said, thinking about how she’d get by with teaching in her cramped apartment.

“Tommy taking classes from you yet?” She asked with a smirk.

“God no. I think he only said that to get me working for him.” She said, thinking back to his first deal with her.

“What are you two talking about aye? We have work to do.” Tommy said, walking into his office where they sat in his chairs nonchalantly.

“Pol was just asking me if I’d taught you to dance yet. You did say you used to...but there would be no ballet of course.” She said, smirking at him as she blew smoke from her lips.

“Well, I have business at the races soon so I guess you’ll have to teach me. Especially since I’ll need someone to accompany me.” He said.

“I never thought you’d ask. What shall I wear?” She asked.

“Something red.” He said, giving her a peck on the cheek before heading out the door.

Their banter carried on like this months after her employment. The only thing different though was where she stayed. Everyone knew he’d had the hots for the woman as soon as he laid eyes on her in the theater. John joking that going to London was the best decision Tommy had ever made. Seeing as she helped him find himself again even if it was just in simple ways. From the nights spent keeping the sounds of the shovels at bay, to the weekends spent helping him learn a few dances. They both healed each other with each step. He never thought he would enjoy dancing or even something as simple as sleeping ever again, but she helped him and he helped her, and he felt the only way to pay her back was to help her still live out her dreams. Eventually converting one of their many rooms into a dance studio, where she’d help teach children on the side, without mean words and harsh fists beating her down.

By this time, she finally knew what she was dancing for, or more so who. And it pleased Thomas to see the life finally return to her eyes as she did so. Knowing that one of the best decisions she made was to dance for herself. Even if it didn’t garner any grand applause, she knew she had people who cared, and who saw the value in what she did, considering it was her gift to the world after all. Even if it was the gangly Shelby family as her audience, she knew it was better than any theater.

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[soldrawss]

So I’mmina start this off by saying literally all your aus/drawing make me smile. They’re all so fascinating and sweet and so,SO well thought out! That being said, not to be that person that brings angst into a fluff buffet but... in your Movie Star Dad AU, do the boys every have mixed feelings about their father suddenly appearing in their lives after a prolonged absence? Also would Christof Von Bradford be an issue for the fam, considering his active competitive jerk energy he has with Lou?

Hi, thank you for your sweet words!!! I literally think about my rottmnt aus every waking moment, no joke, so I’m glad that you think they’re well thought out! I do my best! (also always bring angst. I always have a lot of angst in these au’s, I just also try to even it out with just as much fluff) The boys were YOUNG when Yoshi came into their lives, and each of them have their own perspectives on it, so at the time, they didn’t really have any huge negative feelings towards their situation before Yoshi found them because his absence wasn’t really,,, prolonged.

Mikey was literally a baby, barely a year old, so he doesn’t ever remember a time when Yoshi wasn’t in his life. Yoshi is the only parent Mikey really knows, and he’s completely fine with that. If Mikey has any mixed feelings, it’s towards his late mother, who he has absolutely no memories about, and only really knows her through the pictures Raph kept and the stories Raph and Yoshi would tell about her. He sometimes feels bad that he doesn’t feel as sad about her passing as Raph or Yoshi does, and he sometimes feels bad about not remembering her at all, but it’s also weird cause he knows he shouldn’t feel bad about it, cause he was too little to remember anything anyway and that’s not his fault, but the weird gross feelings in his stomach are there all the same when he thinks too hard about it. So he tries not to think about it. And just blissfully goes about his days with his doting dad and his overindulgent big brothers. 

Raph was nervous and distrustful of Yoshi at first, because of course he was. He was 4 years old, sitting in a hospital bed alone with just his tiny baby brother in his arms, nursing a concussion and ugly road rash on his arms and legs while also nursing a broken heart after just losing mama. And then suddenly this man appears, the man in the movies that mama always loved to watch, except he’s not wearing the flamboyant jumpsuit he’s always wearing, but a maroon sweatshirt and old jeans. His signature styled pompadour and orange shades replaced with a disheveled ponytail and bags like bruises under his eyes. And a lot of people come and go throughout the next couple of weeks. Doctors and therapists and child services and lawyers and all of their faces begin to blend together in a dizzying swirl and Raph has a hard time focusing on anyone who isn’t Mikey. But the man stays the same. His face stays intact, and he follows them wherever they go. And then suddenly Raph and Mikey are allowed to go home with the man, and he tells them how he’s their dad. And how he didn’t know they existed, but he’s going to make up for all the lost time tenfold. And he promises he’s gonna love them enough for both him and their mama. Which Raph doesn’t think is possible, and so he’s suspicious and untrusting at first, cause no one can love them more than their mama did. But the man tries. Boy, does he try hard anyway. Tries to win every smiling giggle Mikey shoots at him and earn Raph’s faith that he’ll be there for them. That he’ll protect them. That he’s going to love them forever. And over the weeks and months, through every tantrum and screaming fit and long sleepless nights, he proves it, little by little. He stays. And he loves them. And Raph’s faith in the man grows with every bedtime story and piggyback ride and half-cooked pancake with too much syrup, and Raph’s guard slowly goes down until it’s fully surrendered over to this man who is their dad, and it’s never raised again.  Donnie knows the routine. He’s been through it approximately 27 and a half times before, through all the foster care homes. A new family takes him in. He messes up something. The new family gives him back. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. He’s been here before. He knows this isn’t going to last long, despite all the promises the man with the thick accent says. And Donnie doesn’t really register that this man was his biological father. He doesn’t really care to, to be honest. What was the point? His own biological mother had willingly gotten rid of him, Donnie’s snuck a peek at his record, he knew it all. So what if this man was his dad. That didn’t mean anything. He was gonna get tired of Donnie the same way all the other parents did. Tired of the constant questions. Tired of the broken appliances and half baked reasons why he took them apart in the first place, because apparently “I wanted to see how they worked” wasn’t a good enough answer. And Donnie was three years old and smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for and you know what? He was tired of it too. Tired of getting his hopes of a family finally understanding and accepting him. Tired of wanting a family who would love him back. Tired of getting his heart broken time and time again. So he wasn’t going to get his heart broken this time. He wasn’t going to accept anything of this man, with two boys already that shared Donnie’s eyes, and he wasn’t going to let himself be the fool again. And as the weeks went by, this cold shoulder game he was playing was getting harder and harder to keep, because dangit, this man really did try everything to prove that he was the real deal. The forever family. And Donnie’s new ‘brothers’ were always bright-eyed and curious about everything Donnie did and said, and actually wanted to play his weird word games and puzzles and wanted to spend time with him, and Donnie felt something short circuit in his brain because he wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest. This warm and light feeling. Something must be overheating in whatever engine was running inside of Donnie’s chest, and Donnie didn’t have a clue how to fix it. He also didn’t know if he wanted to fix it. But of course, it didn’t matter anyway. Because Donnie messed up. It was bound to happen eventually, Donnie got to brazen with how comfortable he was getting in the large house, and when he was running in the hallways, chasing after Raph in an impromptu game of tag, he accidentally slipped and knocked into the t.v stand, sending it straight to the floor where it broke into a hundred different pieces of glass and tiny wired parts. Donnie was mortified, knowing this would definitely send him back, and he got on his hands and knees and tried to collect the parts and put it back together but there was no time. The man that Donnie was half tempted to call dad half the time was already in the room, searching for the source of the loud crash and when his eyes finally landed on Donnie and the broken t.v behind him, Donnie couldn’t help but burst into tears. And he tried to explain, tried to apologize and he promised he’d fix it, he promised, he’d fix it up brand new and then the man wouldn’t have to send Donnie back. He’d be good. He’d fix this. He promised. Just please don’t send him back. And Donnie didn’t see the way the man’s body flinched at Donnie’s sobbed confession, and didn’t see the man lurch from where he was standing to pick Donnie up and hold him in a tight embrace saying all kinds of things that didn’t make sense to Donnie. Because the man was supposed to be angry. Angry like all the other parents eventually were. Angry and disappointed and tired, not... well... whatever this was. Which was holding him close, and running shaking hands through his hair and rubbing circles into his back and saying “Are you ok? Did you get hurt anywhere? Did you touch the glass? Shhh, shhhh, it’s ok buddy, breathe, you’re ok. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to fix anything. It’s just a t.v. As long as you’re unhurt, then it’s ok. You’re ok, sweetheart. I got you.” And Donnie could feel the man press kisses into Donnie’s hairline that made the 3-year-old cry even harder, and press his face farther into his dad’s shirt as he clung to him for dear life. Because it’s never been just ‘ok’ before. Never. And for the first time, Donnie was starting to learn that with this family, with this man, being ‘ok’ might just work out after all.

When Leo meets Yoshi for the first time, it’s with a heart already filled to the brim with excitement and acceptance as he fully lets him into his life. Because Leo’s 3, and doesn’t know where he came from like most of the other kids in the halfway home. All he knows is that he’s always lived in this cramped house, sharing a room with a broken AC unit with 4 other boys around his age that just loved picking on Leo because of how small he was and how his skin was two different colors. He’s used to the house, and strict rules about eating and playtime, and the mean older kids that come and go while Leo always stays. He doesn’t want to be used to it, but he is, and his lonely daydreams and nights wishing upon all the stars in the sky are filled with thoughts about a life where he gets to leave this place. Dreams about a mom and dad or even a cool uncle or caring grandparents or literally anyone, coming and rescuing him and taking him far away from this place. Dreams about finding a home, with someone there calling him theirs. Belonging to someone, and having someone belong to him too. And then on a dusty and warm afternoon, that very person showed up, and Leo smiles at him hard enough to hurt his face. And he was looking for Leo, Leo specifically, not someone around Leo’s age or who looked like Leo, but actually Leo. And the man wanted Leo. Wanted him like no one had ever wanted him before. And wanted to take him home and call Leo his forever and Leo would have thought he was still dreaming if he hadn’t kept pinching himself the entire 6-hour flight to New York. And not only did Leo get a dad, but he got 3 brothers as well! 3 brothers, who all looked different than Leo but shared his brown eyes all the same, and didn’t mind that Leo talked a lot or made a lot of jokes and didn’t bully him for being or looking ‘weird’ like the other boys he grew up with did. And even though dad says that Leo’s his, and Raph and Donnie and Mikey want to hang around and play with him, Leo still finds himself pinching himself every night just in case. Because this is almost too good to be a dream. It couldn’t be real, right? Did Leo deserve this? Was it really his to have? To call his own? Was a kid like him, who grew up with nothing, who grew up as a nothing, allowed to have everything, and be somebody worth keeping around? Leo wasn’t sure, but if this was a dream, it was the best one he’d ever had, and he hopes he doesn’t wake up from it anytime soon.