#Academic Visitor

[lexlawuk]

UK Business Visit Visa: New Permitted Work Related Activities

On December 7, 2023, the UK Government introduced a statement of changes to immigration rules, ushering in a new era of flexibility for visitors engaging in work-related activities. Effective from January 31, 2024, these changes aim to enhance short-term mobility, particularly for those involved in business activities. In this article, we delve into the key amendments and shed light on how these…

[risenskyimmigration]

[atyourmerci]

To think I’d know it all

Therapist!ellie (read pt.1 here)

X

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, power imbalance don’t fuck your therapist, talks of degradation, lots of praise, Ellie watches r! masturbate, thigh riding, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: this is for @catfern if she likes it I die happy. Sorry this took so long I got a little overzealous, yet still it feels rushed so I’m dropping this and disappearing! I promise I’ll be going back to working on reqs now.

X

You think you know yourself, your highs, desires, triggers, your inner most depravities. but you don’t. Maybe it wasn’t your fault- the bliss that came from blatant ignorance so bitter sweet on your tongue. So comfortable in your own escaped reality, why would you try to face it now?

Half of the time you were lying to Dr. Williams. A white lie here, slipping through the cracks of reality by omitting the truth there. It’s not like she couldn’t read you like a book- she knew everything. Things you had never thought of, mysteries to you, solved in seconds by her.

You never gave her much of your true issues, deadbeat mommy leaving you at six for her new boyfriend that could be your brother. Never feeling academically competent, body issues, all the bullshit troubles any girl could dream of beating herself down over.

Thats what you told yourself she knew, the surface, pretty, palpable, easy to swallow, desirable.

But Ellie didn’t want palpable, she craved the chaos of your destruction. She wanted to watch the rage play out, dangerously close to her integrity. She wanted to pull the dirty guts out to feast on. Every last piece of you, torn out, then you would be easy enough to swallow for her.

-

The air only grew thicker. Suffocating your windpipes to choke on, making sure you felt every particle of desperation.

The session after she had cancelled. You thought she’d keep this up, realizing she had taken it too far, falling into her desires you had coaxed her into.

But yet there you were, back in your usual seat, legs crossed, throat dry as it eats at the hot pressure in the air. The buzz of a ring in your ear as you sit there silently. To talk of it, to progress, to regress back into the unknown- the lies, the omissions.

Would she guide you- like she did last time? would she make you do it yourself, pathetic and begging, longing for the validation that she did it for herself, even if only for a little bit.

“How have you been?” A formality, a principle, a greeting. She had to say it- what would she say outside the four walls of this prison?

“Alright,” came out as an unwanted sigh, subconscious as your body tells the truth before you can cut it off at the source.

“No witty comeback? did something happen with the girl?” Ellie furrows her brows at your change of body language. She takes note of how closed off it is, not desiring of visitors. You watch as the veins in her muscles twitch in her tank. rid of the cover of her modest blazer, shoulders now under the impression of your gaze.

“I stopped seeing her, Im seeing an ex,” you didn’t have to say that, could have left it at the end of your farce of a hookup ending. But this time it wasn’t a lie, you truly were fucking that cunt.

“Oh. Anything serious?” Ellie tenses, eager to unpack the dichotomy of the new woman. Why did you start seeing your ex again, what was she tied to, what did you have to gain from anyone but her?

“Just sex.” you shrug off. This was the truth.

“What drove you back to her specifically?” Ellie goes to write it down but once again find herself unable to find the words- lost in the craving the understanding of your mind selfishly.

“Comfortability- is that what you want to hear?” you taunt her, driving your eyes into a squint. What was her motive- what was your own?

“Well something in particular brought you back to her, no?” she pries, not letting you take control of the conversation. If she had to drag it out of you herself she would.

“She knows how I like it,” your attempt at intimidation, confidence in your own pleasure. Nothing but another beautiful farce covered in thorns. A hint of a smirk paints the doctor’s lips, mean and tortured.

‘Oh you think you know yourself so well you beautiful fool’ Ellie thinks to herself. You wouldn’t know satisfaction if it hit you in the face, but she was to help you- that was her job right? “And what is it…that you like?” Shrinking her face into a scowl, head tilted to the side, watching how your body twitches at nothing. How pliable could she diminish you to without touching you- she couldn’t, of course.

“She gets rough with me,” so knowing, as if you were breed for it. A toy of sorts, helpless under the hands of a predator.

“What entails rough?” Ellie probes, getting her scalpel out, ready to dissect your oblivion. Her flesh scorching with fervor as she coaxes more out of you. She had found her vessel.

“I dunno… hitting, tying me up, stuff of that nature.”

“What else?” You’d never know how eager she was, calm in her disposition, from what the eye can make out. Inside she pulses, her mind eating away at itself. To bite is still to touch- Instinctual and destructive. A morbid curiosity to drown herself in, held at the bottom of your mind with the weights of her own scrutiny.

“You wanna know that she calls me a fuckin’ whore?”

“Why do you think you like the degradation?” Ellie shifts forward, getting to the edge of her seat, splaying her forearms onto her thighs. A pissing contest, cruel and depraved.

“Probably my godforsaken mother- what are you get-“ you begin to question before you’re interrupted.

“Good girl.” Ellie coos, shifting her weight back into the seat, her forearms resting on the armrests as her legs are lazily parted. A test she knew she’d win- she knew you best didn’t she? Playing you like a puppet, taking matters into her own hands, unethical as it may be.

So abrupt you’re taken out of a haze. An uncalculated whine coming out of your throat, you attempt to cover it with a halfass cough but the damage was done- you were caught. Ellie just watches as you squirm, skin growing hot as she watches you knowingly, smug and cunning as you tip toe the ledge. “w-what?”

Ellie’s grin only widens, “that was a fair assumption, aware… you’re doing so well already.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, fire blazing in your chest ready to burst into ashes laid out like puzzle pieces neatly for her. A new sensation, uncharted and dense. Immensely ridged to obtain- the feeling of worth, accomplishment at its peak. Would you ever be able to fulfill the demand?

Ignore it, lie, get out of it.

“I like getting when she treats me like shit- gets me off…” you attempt, eyes casted downwards to your sweaty palms soaked from the heat of the air.

“No you don’t.”

“How would you know,” you laugh her off. You’ve built your wall, so high that not even you could see over it.

“Sure you want to be told what to do. But you also want to be acknowledged for your work. How pretty you look opened up. How good you are for taking more, taken whats asked of you. Don’t you?” Ellie doesn’t skip a beat, like shes rehearsed it, dwelled on your inner most necessities. The doctor asks but you both know it’s not a question, rather an admission of verity.

“Doctor Williams, please-“ the impending doom of your fate- the tip of the iceberg chiseling down each second. A ticking time bomb sure to go off. Your body pulses, heart racing. How much more could you take?

“It’s okay…tell me whats wrong” Ellie coos doe eyed, so forgiving in a breeding ground for destruction. A flower blooming in the midst of a tornado. To talk, to proceed, to regress.

“I cant control myself- listening to you…like that,” fist turning white grappling onto the armrests, breath shaky and wavering. Your hips subconsciously rocking into the thick leather of the doctor’s chair- a taste of salvation at any cost.

“Be a good girl and show me the mess you made on my seat,” a reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. Nonetheless too sweet not to bite, sink her teeth into and rip the flesh.

Shameful, degrading enticement. Shaky hands grasping the button of your jeans. How much time did you have left? What if someone walks in? Both your jeans and panties come off in one fowl swoop- fallen to the warm carpet on her floor. You wince as the naked, seeping flesh of your cunt reaches the leather, “Fuck.”

Ellie just watches, amused, stone faced as she understands the specimen. The way you hips rut without you letting them says more than your words, “Give yourself what you need.”

Your body comes back into consciousness with the approval for more. Give her whats shes asked of you. Nimble fingers beginning to circle the swell of your clit- the reoccurring ache of disappointment- the fate of inadequacy.

“Atta girl- just like that. Does it feel good?” the doctor mutters so sweetly- so proud of her specimen. She knew you needed it- the approval, the praise of accomplishment.

Your breath shortens and you pulse around nothing. Driving aimless circles around the bud as your head cocks back. Your cunt begs of her, pleads to be full of her- if shed ever let you have it. “n-need you, please Ellie.”

The doctor had never heard you speak of her name. Too casual for barriers, too comfortable for the tension. Something in her own mind switches at the words- the way they rolled off your tongue like you had said it many times before. Where had you said it, to whom? If not anyone at all. “I cant help you…but I cant stop you from helping yourself.”

Lust was a sin, but gluttony was a mere punishment. Overzealous in nature, depraved and lawless in practice. A reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. A walk of shame, magnets finding their match. She had made your bed, you were to lie in it.

Ellies hands on her armrest, sure to not budge- to uphold her ethics, principles responsible of her own will. She lets you climb her body, mount yourself up top her lap, positioning your cunt on her thigh.

The air. Thick, all consuming- so close, breathing her air, the breath of someone wiser, more understanding of your own mind. What a dangerous game, everything you need right there, yet taboo to drain every last bit of her. An inch given, a mile lacking. She keeps her eyes trained on you, her subject in testing.

“It’s okay, fuck yourself on me. You’ve been so good.” letting your cunt rake up and down the scratchy fabric of her slacks, hands pinned behind your back on your own accord.

The bubble in your stomach already ready to overflow, choking back whimpers drown in by your teeth. She made it so easy- she didn’t even have to fucking touch you.

“Let go. Let yourself come,” the doctor demands, she knew what you were doing. Ellie didn’t care how pathetic it was.

“I can-t not, not yet,” sweat dripping down your flustered face as your sticky white slick coats her covered thigh. The sight was so vulgar in Ellie’s eyes, watching you panting as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Thoughts of what she’d do in another world without laws.

“Do what you’re told.”

[heritageposts]

The website of the Columbia Law Review, one of the oldest and most prestigious legal journals in the country, has been down since Monday. At the time of this broadcast, ColumbiaLawReview.org shows a static homepage informing visitors that the site is “under maintenance.” Well, that’s not exactly true. In a stunning move, the board of directors of the Columbia Law Review decided to take down the website after the publication’s student editors refused the board’s request to halt the publication of an academic article written by Palestinian human rights lawyer Rabea Eghbariah titled “Toward Nakba as a Legal Concept.” Student editors at the Columbia Law Review say they were pressured by the journal’s board of directors to halt publication of the piece. They refused the request and published the piece online Monday morning. In response, the board, which is made up of faculty and alumni from Columbia University’s law school, shut down the law review’s website. After the website was taken down, student editors uploaded the article to a publicly accessible website, where it’s gone viral. The article begins, “The law does not possess the language that we desperately need to accurately capture the totality of the Palestinian condition. From occupation to apartheid and genocide, the most commonly applied legal concepts rely on abstraction and analogy to reveal particular facets of subordination. This Article introduces Nakba as a legal concept to resolve this tension,” unquote. The article is written by Rabea Eghbariah, a human rights lawyer completing his doctoral studies at Harvard Law School. Last November, the Harvard Law Review refused to publish a similar, shorter article it had solicited from Rabea, even after it was initially accepted, fully edited and fact-checked. In both cases, the article would have been the first time that either the Harvard Law Review or the Columbia Law Review had ever published a Palestinian legal scholar.

The video interview with Eghbariah, a transcript of the interview, and a full copy of the censored article, can be found on Democracy Now (5th of June, 2024).

Here's also a direct link to Eghbariah's article:

“Toward Nakba as a Legal Concept”

[cr4yolaas]

for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei

synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.

notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei

tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really

tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.

there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.

where had the last decade gone?

he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.

no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.

and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.

but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

[dreamermonica]

—gender neutral reader x bakugou, just a drabble escalating into a oneshot cause my brain's rotting with mha (mostly katsuki) pls save me from the dump called writing block errr also mild language cuz this is boom boy

“what the hell?”

a very bad word crossed your mind the moment BAKUGOU had entered your dorm room—following shortly is a silence so dense that you swore you heard your stomach drop.

the object that had piqued the attention of your visitor were perched right upon your desk. the very same object that could very well also be the reason you meet your demise.

your dynamight plushies and figurines,

yes. plural.

—were bared in display, to the very man you harbored a big fat crush on.

the silence enveloped your room like a tight veil. a shudder makes its way down your spine when you finally felt a piercing gaze burning onto the back of your head. you are so fucked.

“i—uhm, i can explain!” you break the silence, holding your hands up whilst turning around to meet his crimson eyes—scanning you over whilst you attempt to figure out an excuse.

let's do a quick throwback:

see, you were rather confident in your abilities and quirk—one of the best, you smugly think—but academics were still a great obstacle to overcome, even for an upcoming pro hero. it's a formidable force that's against your dream becoming reality! not really, but you get the point.

damned ectoplasm shouldn't be teaching math! your brain cells were always fizzled out like kaminari's after he used up all his electricity by the time whenever ectoplasm had left the room after a discussion.

a dark cloud looms over your head more often after a particular topic you're struggling to comprehend, the fact that you were called out earlier by ectoplasm and miserably failed to answer didn't hell—and you're sure your god-sent classmates have noticed it.

a few smarties had reached out already—like yaoyorozu and iida, offering their notes with a smile and promising a few tutor lessons if you were to accept. keyword: if.

even though you were tearing up at their kindness and thoughtfulness, you gently declined them before slapping a fist to your chest—

“i shall overcome this by myself! my failure to adapt is a known weakness of mine, and i shall defeat this boss known as calculus with my own strength, no matter what it takes!”

a distant 'how manly!' sounded throughout the room.

it's not manly, you mentally cry out to kirishima. you were just embarrassed to actually get help because you were one of the top students of the class. you need to uphold your image as a capable student, whatever it takes! not so manly now, are we?!

the top one and top two worriedly glance you over, reluctant at your reasoning, but they hadn't pushed it further thankfully, and wished you good luck.

you definitely needed it, you sulk.

your stupid declaration must've spread throughout the entire class, cause now a scowling bakugou katsuki is stomping his way over to you once classes had finished, stopping a few feet away from you whilst you were packing up your stuff.

“oi. i heard your dumb ass earlier—why are you refusing to ask for help?! you plan on getting behind all of us just because of that damn picture perfect image of yours?!” he yells, and you're now sweating, twiddling with your fingers.

you're not surprised that he approached you—he had declared you as one of his rivals (he called you a stepping stone to his victory but same thing!) ages ago and knowing his competitive nature, you surmised he was probably disappointed that you were stumped in such a pathetic way.

“w-what pride do you mean, bakugo? haha...”

“shut the fuck up. you know what i'm talking about,” a finger presses onto your chest as if to emphasize his point, and you just now realize the distance between you.

caramel wafts its way to your nose. heat crawls up your neck as you avert your gaze away from his chiseled face.

he hisses at your dazed look, “i'm beating calculus into your goddamn brain later tonight whether you like it or not, you got that extra?!”

you break out of your stupor when he leans away from you to gauge your reaction. of course he'd say something like that, even if he was just trying to help.

you shrink under his gaze, embarrassed and defeated at his intensity. if even the big bad bakugo thinks you need help, then maybe you really do.

“...okay.” you resign after a few seconds of contemplation, “thank you, bakugo.”

clicking his tongue, he gives you one last look before turning on his heels, walking towards the door.

you look around and realize that you were the only ones left in the classroom. did he offer his help in private so you would keep the image you're upholding? eh, whatever, he was probably the embarrassed one because he never offers help willingly to anyone.

you blink.

wait—he never helps unless someone would beg on their knees for him, so why—

“...you were always the one preaching about lowering my pride or whatever,”

your eyes dart towards the sound of his voice where bakugo paused his steps at the exit, glaring at you over his shoulder.

he huffs as he adds on, “cut that shit out, hypocrite.”

you blink owlishly and he's gone as he turned the corner, his loud footsteps echoing through the hall.

shaking your head, you pack your stuff up and rush out the door shortly after, eager to return to the comfort provided by your bed.

his words ring in your ears as you walked back to the dorms.

—now, baam, we're back to the present.

you're so fucked, if it wasn't mentioned earlier.

bakugou katsuki is now staring at you, silently demanding an explanation on why you have a row of mini dynamights, ranging from the winter version of his costume, to one of him wearing his signature black tank top—he hasn't even debuted yet as a pro-hero, so the amount you have is probably concerning. maybe even borderline creepy.

fuck being creepy—this probably looks horrifying!

“it's—uh...”

you hadn't had the chance to hide them before he so rudely, barged into your room carrying the materials needed for your study session.

“well, you're my idol, because you're so strong and—” inflate his ego! it's not like it wasn't the truth either with how much you compliment him during training, so maybe he'll be distracted enough and let it slide—

“did ponytail make these for you?” he asked quietly, ignoring your praises and walking past your panicked state as he got closer to inspect the tiny versions of him. he slowly took one from the bunch—a plushie of him wearing the suit he specifically used for a mission in otheon. “how the hell are the outfits so accurate?”

“...”

“answer my questions and i'll let this weird obsession of yours a secret, fuckin' creep.” he seems to like the way you took in his words, horrified, a smirk dancing on his lips as he turns away.

this sadist, you swear to all might...

“okay, okay! so uh...” you gulp as he continues inspecting the army of tiny bakugous, “yes, i had yaoyorozu make them. as for the outfits—i borrowed your blueprints, remember? it was to find some inspiration in enhancing my own costume, but i guess it also had some other uses...?”

he grunts in response to your explanation as his eyes move away from the desk and land onto your bed, where a few more plushies of him resided.

your face is definitely burning up by now.

“wasn't aware you were a fan,” you could hear the grin as he spoke, and you're one hundred percent sure he's never going to live this down, “well, i guess it's expected. i am amazing after all.”

“...yeah.” you agree, albeit cautious, trying to sound uneager to avoid inflating his ego anymore than you already have.

he moves to lean over your bed and grabs a plushie of him wearing his school uniform, squeezing it lightly, “but if you want me to be honest—this shit's kinda creepy.”

would he stop you if you just took a swan dive out of your window? should you get him to roast you alive right now? you wish all might would just united-states-smash you at this moment.

your hands shoot up to your face as you crouched down, too humiliated to even look at him even if he wasn't facing you.

“kill me now...”

“i've got plenty of chances to do that in the future, don't worry,” he's oddly calm for someone who's standing in a room practically devoted to him, “this is pretty adorable of you i must admit,”

you freeze. tickle my pickle! no fucking way he just called you adorable!

“you got a crush on me or something?”

ah.

this is it. you hope you've done enough good to end up in heaven atleast.

“well, if you're not gonna kill me, we should probably just study and get it over with—oh, we should also just go down to the commons—

“i told you to answer all my questions, didn't i!?”

“...”

the blonde finally turns, hands free of any plushies, crossing his arms over his chest as you stare up at him through the gaps of your fingers. he raises a challenging brow at your hesitation.

“well?” he urges on, “did you go mute from embarrassment or something?”

you say something underneath your breath and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“speak up, you idio—”

“i like you, bakugou katsuki.”

you stand up from your crouched position and situated yourself to your desk, bringing out your textbooks from a drawer as he stared on silently. the silence had grown thicker than the one before.

“let's just get this study session over with so you can go, okay?” you spin around your office chair to look at him with a small smile, as if you didn't just confess, “wanna go down to the commons? my room seems to be uncomfortable for y—

“i was joking about the creep shit, you dumbass.”

you stare at him in surprise when he holds you by the shoulders, gently pushing down to prevent you from getting up from your chair.

“bakugou...?”

“...i'll teach you here. no need to get up.”

“but—”

“shut up. get ponytail to make me a plushie of you so we're even, alright?”

confused, you're about to speak up again and he resolves it by squeezing your cheeks, resulting in only incoherent babbles from your mouth.

“bafhkugou—!”

“ugh, i like you too, if your dumbass hasn't gotten it yet.”

“ohfmayghodf—”

“shut it. no more words from you.” he waits a moment for you to calm down, and lets go of your burning cheeks. a smile grows on his face when you weakly glare up at him, but it quickly turns wicked in the span of a second.

“now...you were so eager to start studying earlier, weren't you?”

he unfortunately wasn't joking about beating the damn subject onto your brain. you could feel a mild headache from all the times he hit your head with a roll of paper.

but nonetheless, you know the hard work and pain paid off when you finally got a question right during ectoplasm's class.

bless bakugou, you'd kiss him right now if you could—

“so,” the boy in question starts as you discreetly hand him a plushie of you in your hero costume, he seems to brighten up at that, taking it nearly immediately, but attempts to appear unbothered as he moves his gaze back to yours.

“are we gonna talk about that body pillow last night or—”

“katsuki—no.”

“pfft,” he snorts, “suit yourself, fangirl.”

imagine your surprise when yaoyorozu snitches and tells you that bakugou practically threated her to make more plushies of you after he received the initial one

[critrolestats]

New Blood, Old Regards

Thanks to @eyeofthenewt1 for this art piece!

Greetings! Although the Stats Team is still in a state of retirement, we’ve periodically updated several of our Campaign 3 Running Stats categories and galleries thanks to the efforts of a new team of data collectors. This team, consisting of Archivists Astral, Ethereal, Fey, and Shadow, have been preparing since the beginning of the year to launch their own site, and that day has come! With that, we’re pleased to present:

The Omen Archive

Although they have been providing CritRoleStats updates for our Campaign 3 records, their site will be its own thing with its own tools, toys, and focuses, such as graphics derived from their own databases of data. Please visit them at their website, reach out to them, and check them out on their various social media pages:

Website: https://www.omenarchive.com/

Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/omenarchive

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/omenarchive.bsky.social

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/omen_archive/

Tumblr: https://omenarchive.tumblr.com/ ( @omenarchive )

CritRoleStats will continue to update our databases and running stats pages with the data we receive from the Omen Archive until the end of the campaign, so that anyone from academics to casual fans have access to a complete catalogue of three campaigns worth of data. After that, our site will be completely (accessibly) archived, and our legacy will be carried on entirely by projects like the Omen Archive.

Thanks Are In Order

Outside of our final livecast, we realize we went out without the proper thanks to the community members who helped us grow. We’d like to take this opportunity to give credit where we feel it’s due.

We’d like to thank the team at Critical Role for their support over the years, with special thanks to Dani Carr for both her wonderful spirit, tenacious work ethic, and the marvelous send-off she gave us.

We’d like to thank the creators in the community. Thank you to the artist community for letting us feature your wonderful talent to give vibrancy to the numbers and words we’ve filled. Thank you to the information gathering community, from the wiki workers to the meta analysts, for giving your time to help make Critical Role more accessible. Thank you to the academics for finding value we didn’t know we had in our work. Thank you to everyone who creates in this community, whether your medium is music, words, stats, or art; whether you share for a large audience or for the joy of your private home or table; whether you encourage others with high presence, or quietly inspire and support from the shadows. Your creation makes the world a more interesting place.

We’d like to thank both our patrons and our Ko-Fi supporters for allowing us to carry on for as long as we have, and to make sure our work can continue to reach those who want to be informed and inspired. Thank you to our regular visitors, as well; traffic is supportive in several ways!

Thank you to those who have been with us, whether it’s the very beginning, sometime in the middle, or even if you’re tuning in just now. Your patronage and your expression of value in our work has been a blessing. (Thanks for the 1d4.) We’d also like to thank everyone who has continued to visit the site in spite of the lack of regular content creation on our part, and are grateful that so many of you are still finding use in the previous campaigns’ worth of data, as well as the current one.

We love you all very much. Now, back to retirement!

[memecucker]

Student editors at the Columbia Law Review say they were pressured by the journal’s board of directors to halt publication of an academic article written by a Palestinian human rights lawyer that accuses Israel of committing genocide in Gaza and upholding an apartheid regime.

When the editors refused the request and published the piece Monday morning, the board — made up of faculty and alumni from Columbia University’s law school — shut down the law review’s website entirely. It remained offline Tuesday evening, a static homepage informing visitors the domain “is under maintenance.”

The episode at one of the country’s oldest and most prestigious legal journals marks the latest flashpoint in an ongoing debate about academic speech that has deeply divided students, staff and college administrators since the start of the Israel-Hamas war.

[bamdelune]

utterly, unbelieveably in love pt. 1 ░ scara x reader modern!au ★ mini series

summary ➜ he has six months to win you over. the famed scaramouche of tevyat unviersity wants the honor of owning a place in your heart. you want to see how far his feelings hold true.

genres/tags ➜ fluff, scara is genuinely head over heels for you, fem!reader, scara is your brother's best friend, courting, new writing style.

Your brother bringing home friends from university wasn't a surprising occurence. He'd do it all the time. The only thing surprising was how a real human being could bear to even form a friendship to someone akin to a persistent little fly that buzzes in the shell of your ear.

This time, the person who welcomed himself through the entrance of your home was none other than the flamboyant Scaramouche. Academic by nature, with ladies and gentlemen swooning over him at every stride of his feet. Sure, a little too confident over the scale but still charming nonetheless. Your brother was on the popular side of the school tier, perhaps it was a matchmade in heaven.

"I'm home." He would say, after the lock clicks free. You were hunched over a laptop on the couch, with a screen that displayed two tabs as you accomplished your essay due in about... seven hours? A hum of acknowledgement slips past your lips, eyes still trained on the bright screen in front of you, too busy to even notice the fact that he brought a new friend today but it was a sight of familiar indigo streaks of hair.

For the next few times, Scaramouche would become a frequent visitor at your apartment and you had grown accustomed to the routine. You would be studying by the time the both of them get to the apartment, you'd acknowledge them, and Scaramouche would leave an hour and thirty minutes later. But today was a different case.

Your brother, being the trustful guy that he is, apparently gave Scara his key to the apartment telling him to go ahead and use it as he did some short errands.

Now here you were sitting in silence with the ever-charming boy from uni, with his eyes shooting glances he thought was subtle enough for you not to notice.

"You've been staring." You begin, your focus shifting from your laptop to his direction, although not directly into his eyes.

He hums, "I'd say the same about you."

Well, shit. Cover blown, does a life in the countryside tickle your fancy in any way?

Heat brushes your features but you are quick to school them.

"I'm curious as to how my brother thought this whole thing through."

Scara tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing in question. "Thought what through?"

"You. Giving you the actual key to our apartment. He's never done that so there's something different about you." Your eyes squint at him suspiciously, hands reaching for the top of your laptop and it shuts it closed. "Why are you here?"

"You're pretty cocky if you think I'm here for you." Scara blurts out in response. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"I never said that though?"

His face flushes a shade of pink and he takes a big interest in the crown moldings of your ceiling.

"You're weird." You mutter.

"Right back at you."

You scoff at his reply, albeit a small tug on your lips curls them upward. Just then the knob of the front door turns clockwise. You send Scara a 'you didn't lock the door?' type of look and he merely shrugs as your brother comes inside.

"I'm home— oh, you really did use the key." Your brother says, settling his belongings down on the marble counter. You swear you caught a small smirk playing on his lips but he was far too quick at concealing it.

From now onwards, Scaramouche would become a reoccuring character in your life. How long will it take for you to fall into the wraps of his charms?

[lexlawuk]

Navigating the 2024 UK Visit Visa Rules: A Comprehensive Guide

The ever-evolving immigration landscape of the United Kingdom is set for significant changes with the proposed 2024 UK visit visa rules. Scheduled to take effect from January 31, 2024, these amendments bring about crucial shifts in facilitating business, research activities, and adapting to contemporary work trends. In this guide, we will delve into the key changes and explore what they mean for…

[little-diable]

Saturn swallowing his son – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 3/?)

Chapter three, here we go! Promise there will be lots of smut (the next chapter is finally full of smut), but please show some love to this chapter which has barely any smut in it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: none, just some typical CM talk

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Four

If one of her friends had asked (y/n) what she was planning on doing this Sunday morning, she’d probably have replied with “Sleeping in”, perhaps she’d have told them she was planning on going for a morning walk, perhaps grabbing coffee at a store she frequented. But none of these things were now happening, instead (y/n) was sitting in a black SUV, right next to Professor Hotchner.

She had been awoken by her phone going off, indicating that a new email had been sent to her, eyes struggling to focus on the bright screen of her phone. Her heart had skipped a few beats as she had read the email professor Hotchner had sent her, asking her if she’d like to join him on a trip to the BAU. He had attached his phone number for her, asking her to call him, and as he had explained to her that they were discussing her idea at the BAU, she had began to hastily dress herself, telling him where to pick her up.

“Here, don’t lose this.” Professor Hotchner pushed a visitor’s card into (y/n)’s direction, watching her clip the card to a belt loop, nodding at him as they walked towards one of the elevators. Barely any words had been shared on the drive, relishing in the calmness this very Sunday morning offered the two, grateful that they wouldn’t have to force themselves through any uncomfortable smalltalk. 

“Is there anything I should be careful with, professor?” His dark eyes met hers, pondering over her words for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, having to force himself to stop looking at her. 

“You can call me Hotch while we’re here, (y/n).” The way her name rolled off his tongue left her trembling in surprise, swallowing the gasp wanting to rip through her. “For now all I need you to do is to be as observant as you can be, don’t hold back on theories, and put enough trust in yourself. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe in your work.” An unfamiliar sense of pride thumped through (y/n)’s veins, not used to the professor praising her like this. She could only nod, not trusting herself to speak up, pressing her lips tightly together. 

Before either one could speak another word, the elevator came to a halt, exposing the parts of the BAU (y/n) had been dreaming of seeing with her own eyes for years. She followed the tall man, eyes taking in everything she could admire from afar, unable to bite down the excitement filling her body with every step she took. 

“I’ll introduce you to the team first.” He led her towards what appeared to be a conference room, eyes instantly drawn to the familiar faces of Spencer Reid and David Rossi. “This is (y/n), as I told you, she’ll assist us on this case.” 

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n). I’ve been waiting for you to find your way to us.” David Rossi shook her hand with a smile, making heat simmer inside of her, freaking out that the man could still remember her from all these years ago. She shook the hands of the others, not noticing how Aaron Hotchner kept watching her with a slight smile playing on his lips. 

“As (y/n) pointed out to me, the scenes have a very dramatic touch to them. (Y/n) said they remind her of Goya’s Saturn painting.” 

“The painting depicts Saturn swallowing his son. It was foretold that one of his offspring would ultimately usurp his rule. In order to thwart this prophecy, Saturn devoured his own progeny. He managed to consume five of them, yet Jupiter was destined to escape his father's fate thanks to his mother's clever ruse. She replaced the infant with a stone in swaddling clothes and presented it to her unsuspecting husband, who remained oblivious to the subterfuge. Many years later, Jupiter overthrew his father, thus fulfilling the prophecy. During this momentous event, Saturn regurgitated his children, along with the stone.” Spencer kept rambling on, sharing everything he knew about the painting and its history, instantly drawing (y/n) in as she couldn’t hide her amazement. She tried to remember every word that was shared, very well knowing that this was a chance she’d perhaps never get again.

“So, what? Our unsub is fascinated by Greek mythology?” The guy (y/n) and her friends had seen at the bar days ago, who had just introduced himself as Derek Morgan, cut Spencer’s rambling short, muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. For a few seconds they were engulfed by silence, eyes focusing on the pictures of the crime scenes. 

“Maybe he is reliving some childhood trauma? It wouldn’t be surprising if the unsub grew up in an abusive household.” (Y/n) watched Emily Prentiss pick one of the pictures up as she spoke, eyes zoning in on the wounds the victims bodies were littered with. 

“A study from the early 2000s shows that most serial killers displayed similar patterns of severe childhood neglect, patterns developed from birth through adolescence. Our unsub definitely knows about Greek mythology, perhaps a professor or a teacher?” A hum left the others at the information Spencer shared, though (y/n) couldn’t focus on the numbers, speaking up before she could stop herself from doing so. 

“I doubt it's somebody with an academic background, these scenes wouldn’t be as dramatic otherwise. But what about somebody favouring art? A painter?” Her eyes instantly flickered up to meet Aaron Hotchner's, the man who was already looking at her, giving (y/n) an encouraging nod, allowing her tense muscles to relax. 

“Garcia, cross reference people who are known as painters around the area, somebody who also shows up in reports from domestic abuse from the past thirty to forty years.” Aaron turned towards (y/n), speaking a soft “Good job, (y/n)” that left her heart skipping beats in excitement. 

……

“Thank you for driving me back.” Her words filled his dark SUV, voice kept quiet to match the calmness they were engulfed by. (Y/n) didn’t dare look away from the handsome man, knowing that she shouldn’t miss a single second fading by, not knowing if or when she’d ever get to share these moments with him again. 

“It’s on me to thank you, (y/n). You’ve done well today.” Only now did she begin to realise how close they were sitting, forearms about to touch, resting on the middle console. She couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering down to his lips, allowing herself to imagine him pulling her closer, softly kissing her as the rain kept pitter pattering down on the windshield of the SUV. 

For the first few seconds (y/n) wasn’t sure if she was only imagining it, but it seemed like Aaron was caught in the same thoughts as (y/n), slowly moving closer. Her heart roared in her chest, praying to whoever was listening that he’d close the distance between them, kissing her like she had hoped he would for years. 

(Y/n) could almost feel his breath on her cold skin, could almost pick up on the shaky breaths leaving him, but before either one could give in the sound of Aaron’s phone going off ripped them apart. His eyes grew cold once again, nodding towards (y/n) as if he was wordlessly saying goodbye, answering the call as he watched her leave the car, clothes instantly soaked through by the heavy rain. 

Disappointment flushed through (y/n), finding her way into her apartment with a sigh breaking through her. She couldn’t help but curse whoever had forced them apart, asking him to return back to the cold demeanour she was all too familiar with by now. 

Would he treat her the same way he had treated her for the past weeks in their upcoming class? Or would he treat her a bit kinder, just like he had done today? One question after another filled her mind, painting scenarios that’d leave her sleepless for hours on end. 

……

“Hi (y/n), it’s Emily Prentiss. Hotch told us you didn’t have any time to keep on working with us on the case, but the girls and I would love to grab some drinks with you if you're up for it?” (Y/n) had been staring at the text message for what felt like hours, rereading every word carefully, hoping that she wasn’t misinterpreting what Emily had texted her. 

Hotch told us you didn’t have any time to keep on working with us on the case – the words felt like blades piercing her heart, cutting deeper and deeper, about to rob her of her last breath. (Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not understanding why he’d tell them lies like this, actively keeping her away from him and the team. 

Ever since that moment in the car he had been back to his brooding self, cold demeanour keeping his distance from (y/n), not even looking at her once in class. She had gotten the memo, had instantly seen through the game he was playing, and yet she was hurt by it, not understanding how he could pull away this easily. Back then she had promised herself that she’d also keep her distance, not wanting to chase a situation this toxic, but now, two weeks later, (y/n) couldn’t help but give into the anger simmering deep inside of her. 

With a deep breath leaving her she tapped on Emily’s contact, calling the agent before (y/n)’s rational self could catch up with her actions. Within a few moments she and Emily had shared information about the whereabouts of the group, promising that she’ll be at the bar in a few, set on distracting herself from her heartbreak. 

……

“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you!” Penelope was the first one to greet her, followed by Emily and JJ, hugging the women who had already ordered (y/n) her drink. And even though (y/n)’s system was still taken up by her anger, by the ever growing annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the three women who treated her like she had been their friend for years.

“So tell us, what or who is keeping you this busy?” JJ’s eyes glimmered with mischief, oblivious of the hurt (y/n) had to fight against, expression growing sombre as they watched (y/n) avert her gaze, clearing her throat as if she was feeling awfully uncomfortable. For a second she pondered over her choices, and yet her pettiness spurred her on, parting her lips to reply with her eyes flickering between the three. 

“Uhm, I don’t know why he told you that I’m busy, I’m really not, but I guess he simply doesn’t want me around. I just wish he’d told me that himself.” With an almost pitiful expression thrown her way, Penelope wrapped her arm around (y/n)’s shoulder, pulling her closer. 

“I’m sure he has his reasons, maybe he simply wants to protect you. He can be very cold at times, but I promise, he means well, and you did help us a lot with the Porcelaine killer situation!” 

“He never told me what happened with the case, care to elaborate?” (Y/n)’s eyes kept flickering between the women, waiting for either one of them to tell her who the killer was. 

“It was an artist downtown, we found him through the Goya replicas he tried to sell. The victims all bought the pictures from him, it was some deep rooted family trauma he was guided by, since his father had always told him he’d never be as good as Goya.” With a sigh leaving (y/n) she nodded her head, barely listening to the words Penelope spoke to redirect the conversation. 

Emily’s words about Aaron kept ringing in (y/n)’s ears, even as the three women started to pour shots down their throats with (y/n) mimicking their movements. 

……

“(Y/n)?” Aaron Hotchner’s all too familiar voice rumbled through her, eyes focused on Penelope and Emily, unable to bite down her drunken chuckles. It took her a few moments to reply, struggling with her blurred vision and the way her surroundings kept spinning all too fast. 

“You know what, Hotch?” She slurred her words, breaking out in laughter as Penelope almost lost her balance, leaning onto Emily and JJ as they waited for their taxi to arrive. “You’re the biggest asshole ever, I take back my apology.” 

“Are you drunk, (y/n)? Where are you? Are you alone?” Concern dripped from his words, an emotion her drunken mind didn’t pick up on, attention torn between his words and her newfound friends. She wrapped her arm around herself, trying to shield herself from the cold as a hum left her, wondering what she should tell him. 

“‘M not, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are here, the ones you lied to, in case you forgot.” An angry huff left Aaron, she heard him shuffling around, wondering what he was doing, or where he was going. 

“Where are you? Send me your location, I’ll pick you up.” (Y/n) ended the call, barely able to focus on the screen as she sent him her location, unable to ponder on what was about to happen. She could barely concentrate on the words she shared with the three women, telling them that somebody else would pick her up and that she’ll text them in the morning. And within minutes, (y/n) found herself watching an all too familiar frame walk closer to her, wordlessly wrapping his arm around her shivering frame, guiding (y/n) towards his warm SUV.

“Why did you lie? You could have just told them you don’t want me around.” She whispered her words, interrupted by a yawn rumbling through her, sinking further into the comfortable seat. But her eyes didn't leave his frowning features once, wondering what he was thinking about, wondering how he was feeling about being around her once again. 

“It’s not that simple, (y/n).” Aaron Hotchner matched the tone of her voice, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. Her mind screamed at her to shut up, to let it rest before this conversation would spiral out of control, and yet (y/n)’s racing heart urged her on to keep on talking, to ask the questions that wouldn't let go of her for months on end otherwise. 

“I know you don’t like me, but it would have been nice if you’d at least told me that I won’t be able to help any longer, to my face.” A sigh left Aaron, teeth grazing his lower lip as he stared stoically ahead, clearly telling (y/n) that their conversation was over. With her eyes wandering to her window and a huff leaving her, she kept watching houses blur by, no longer recognising the area they were in, wondering where he was taking her to – a question her professor answered without her having to ask. 

“You’ll stay at mine for the night, I don’t want to leave you alone in your state.” Angry, drunken words wanted to leave (y/n), words that were silenced by the realisation of what was about to happen. With his hand placed on the small of her back he guided her into the apartment complex, stabilising (y/n)’s frame till they stepped foot into the dark living room. She swayed slightly as she kicked her shoes off, not noticing the amused glance he shot her, watching her struggle. “You can sleep in my bedroom, I’ll take the couch. It’s the last door down the hallway, I’ll bring you some water in a minute.”

“I should take the couch, but you deserve to wake up to some back pain.” A laugh clawed through Aaron Hotchner as he turned from her, missing the sight of (y/n) disappearing down the hallway. With a deep breath being exhaled, he poured her a glass of water before he made his way to the bedroom, freezing in his step as his eyes found her frame, cuddling further into his comfortable pillows. 

“Here’s some water, do you want a shirt to sleep in?” She could only tiredly nod her head, hands working on her top, not caring that her professor was in the room with her, shuffling out of her clothes till she was only wearing her underwear. He had turned from her the second his mind had picked up on what she was about to do, wordlessly pushing the shirt of his into her direction without looking at (y/n) once. “I’ll be back in a few.”

She watched him leave the room with hurried steps, unable to stop her drunken chuckles from leaving her as she fell back against the mattress. The soft shirt she was now wearing smelled like him, a scent she’d always recognise, no matter how much she tried to pull herself away from the grasp her crush on him had on her heart. Years ago she had fallen prisoner to Aaron Hotchner, to the mere thought of him, mere images that were further from the truth than she had originally anticipated.

“Do you need something else?” With tired eyes she watched him approach once again, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a black shirt. She silently prayed that she’d never forget this very moment, the almost domestic feeling the sight of him shot through her. No longer could she guide the words rumbling through her, no longer could she stop her body from acting on the actions she’d curse herself for in the upcoming hours. 

“Stay?”

[wileys-russo]

time management II a.russo x reader

hello! this is my first ever post so pls be nice. It makes me sO nervous to dip my toe into writing on woso tumblr after only being a reader from afar but here we are 🫶🏻

time management II a.russo x reader

"baby? i'm back!" your girlfriend called out from the front door, the soft thud of her kit bag hitting the floor followed by a small grunt as she wrestled to take off her trainers. You couldn't help but chuckle as you heard yet another small thud followed by a yelp and some quiet cursing, it had all but become part of her routine now to fall over during the seemingly simple task. 

"hi clumsy." you greeted her with a knowing smile, the blonde huffing to blow a loose strand of hair out of her face, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment and face flushed and rosy from training as she entered your eye line. "stupid floor." the girl grumbled in annoyance, shrugging off her training jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair as she stepped into the living room. 

The italian's large hands gently rested on either side of your face, tilting your head back ever so slightly as she bent down down to press a soft but sweet kiss to your forehead as she passed the back of the lounge you were currently sprawled on, work laptop perched precariously on your knees. 

"i wonder if we get a discount now when we go to the emergency room since you're such a frequented visitor." you teased with a grin, the older girl shooting you an unimpressed glare before she disappeared into the kitchen where you heard the tap running as she no doubt chugged a glass of water, yet another step in the post training routine.

"how was it?" you called out, eyes drifting back to the screen in front of you, the half completed report card staring back at you almost tauntingly. Your chest tightened somewhat when you glanced at the last name, a quiet sigh falling from your lips confirming you still had at least nineteen left to write before they were due for submission on monday. As the seconds ticked by friday was ever closer to being over, only tightening your deadline.

Unlike your superstar striker girlfriend you were not gifted with sporting ability, however what you may have lacked in the athletic department you made up for in the academic field. You'd always had a subtle but present passion for sharing knowledge with others, which with a gentle push from your own teachers, inevitably lead you down the path of teaching. After a few grueling years of uni and various placements your hard work paid off and you had finally secured your first permanent primary teaching position.

With the term holidays looming the days seemed to tick by ever so slowly for both you and your year 5 class, which they all made sure to remind you on a daily basis, especially when they were having to participate in anything apart from lunch or recess. The constant battle to keep them focused on anything but what they planned to do when not in school had you wanting to tear your hair out.

You adored your class, and of course you loved teaching. But the final two weeks of term was forever the most stressful for you, and as much as you tried to bottle it up, you were almost certain you were partially responsible for your students wild behavior, it was as if they picked up on your internal erratic energy.

As much as you'd secretly love to give into their endless demands, throw on some mind numbing cotton fluff childrens films for them to consume and keep quiet for the next week, you knew they would in the long term benefit from the lessons. Plus whose to say with a little money taken out of your own pocket you couldn't make it a little more fun for them in this upcoming final week like you'd planned.

Though you had one end goal, which was two weeks off to spend as much time with your friends, family and of course your girlfriend as you could squeeze in amongst some much needed self care time for yourself. Though it meant added stress in the meantime with forward planning your first couple weeks lessons back of next term before this term would even finish as to allow you to actually spend the time away from work, away from work.

"good! got a new PB on the bench press, even beat mary." alessia beamed in response to your prior question as she joined you, her competitive nature not much of a secret to those who knew her well enough. Growing up the youngest of three and the only girl it wasn't hard to see why she was wired with such a drive to win, and looking at her career so far it was even easier to see the obvious benefits it had for her.

"bet she loved that." you chuckled, eyes still focused on your screen as your fingers flew across the keyboard, finishing your sentence before placing it onto the coffee table your feet had been happily perched on, making sure your girlfriend knew she had your full attention as she rambled on for awhile about training and the upcoming match tomorrow.

"ah! you're all sweaty, go shower first." the taller girl grunted a little in shock as your legs shot out to press into her chest, stopping her from collapsing on top of you as you knew she'd intended to. "what! come on just one hug." the blondes perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed together as her bottom lip jutted out into a small pout. Though after almost three years together now you were well aware of her games and overtime it had become much easier not to give into them, at least most of the time.

"no less, you know I hate it just go shower." you shook your head with a small smile, pointing upstairs sternly as your own eyebrows quirked upwards at her obvious defiance. "you don't always hate when I'm sweaty." your girlfriend grinned cheekily at the suggestive comment as she grabbed your feet, your cheeks flushing with warmth which didn't go unnoticed by the italian, adoring the effect her words could have on you when she wanted them to.

"go shower! you smell." you kicked at her lightly with a smirk as she swatted your legs away with ease, rolling her eyes playfully at the jab and turning as if to head upstairs as you reached over for your laptop assuming the conversation was over. 

A sincere mistake on your part as your girlfriend suddenly turned on her heel, launching herself back towards you and over the arm of the lounge, careful of how she landed as you felt her larger form envelop yours, arms encasing your torso and face plunged into your neck.

"alessia!" you squealed in surprise, desperately trying to shove her off of you to no avail as the much stronger girl held on with ease, going so far as to purposely rubbing her sweat dampened hair in your face. "get off! please!" you begged with a scream, laughter echoing around the room as the striker dug her fingers teasingly into your sides, legs slotted in-between your own, careful not to completely crush you beneath her.

"say you missed me and maybe I'll get off." alessia grinned, her lips inevitably finding your own, your stomach doing a back flip as they did, your arms coming to wrap around her neck, hand pressing on the back of her head only spurring her on to deepen the kiss further.

"no! I hate you, get off." you pushed her away with a peal of laughter as her tongue slipped inside your mouth, stopping things before the two of you got anymore carried away. 

"now that's not very nice, no one likes a liar bella." the blonde beamed, bright blue orbs locked with yours, you made sure to tear your gaze away before you got lost in them, melting at the italian endearment as it fell from her lips.

"get off me or I'll call your mum and tell her about our little trip last week." you threatened, withdrawing your hands from around her neck to cross them over your chest, your girlfriends eyes narrowing at your words as she pushed herself up, resting on her forearms which sat either side of your head. 

The threat was not taken lightly, her mum having all but promised the next time her daughter had any sort of stumble at home she'd move in and permanently encase her in bubble wrap, the girls clumsy nature making her a danger not only to herself but also to those around her.

Her most recent victim had of course been you, the slightly tipsy girl had been attempting to romantically carry you upstairs to bed after a big win, the two of you having celebrated with a bottle of wine and catching up on Love Island. 

But the sweet moment hadn't last long and before you knew it she'd tripped over a discarded trainer and promptly dropped you down half a flight of stairs. Luckily all you suffered was a slight cut above your eyebrow from a knock against the banister, and a lovely week of mild bruising on your tailbone. But forever overprotective alessia had insisted you go right to the emergency room to get assessed for a  concussion, and there was no convincing her otherwise. 

After the cut had been cleaned and sealed with a band aid, you'd been deemed not concussed  and alessia had copped a stern talking to from mary who she'd called for a ride, all was well again.

"you wouldn't." "lessi my love we both know I would."

"you know blackmail is a very unattractive quality." alessia tutted with a shake her head, the hint of a smile ghosting her lips betraying her attempt at a stern look as you smiled smugly, knowing you'd won. 

"go shower, i have to keep doing these reports anyway." your face softened as you gently tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind the strikers ears, the older girl melting at the sincere touch as she stole a quick kiss and pushed herself off of you, standing to her feet and padding off upstairs.

You watched her go with a smile, shaking your head and readjusting your position, grabbing your laptop and mentally checking back into the work with a click of your mouse pad and a sigh. 

You had powered through another three reports by the time your girlfriend returned, her skin care routine always taking up an elaborate amount of time, though your own routines often out lasted hers so you had no room to comment. 

Your indecisiveness, non existent sense of urgency and endless 'final' touch ups when getting ready meant the two of you were known to be late for any event you were invited to, something that frustrated your incredibly punctual girlfriend to no end. But as you were always quick to cheekily remind her with a kiss, perfection took time.

The blonde joined you again on the couch, this time grabbing your mostly bare legs, save for a very short pair of football shorts, and lifting them to rest on her lap. Slotting her body in beside you, she fondly lent over to kiss your cheek before grabbing the remote from where it lay tucked into the side of the lounge. 

Your eyes glanced up from your screen with a quiet chuckle as she clicked in to watch united's match from last week, the calculated re-watching a common habit for the striker the night before a game. You were much accustomed to all of her pre and post match routines, and knew her well enough to know exactly what she needed from you on all occasions, win or lose, good game or bad.

"Where'd you dig these out from then?" The girl mused quietly, fingers tugging up your hoodie and prodding accusingly at the baby blue unc kit shorts she'd sworn she'd lost during the move to your current shared flat. 

"I've always known where they were." you answered cheekily as your lips quirked into a smile, eyes flickering over to hers before returning to your screen, now being alessia's turn to roll her eyes playfully at your vague response. 

Throughout the entire course of your relationship right down to the first few months of dating, her clothes had always seemed to magically appear on your body or in your closet. The girl having to practically beg for them to be given back, you only begrudgingly returning them once they stopped smelling like the Italian beauty you were rapidly falling head over heels for.

(though not that she had to confess to you how much she enjoyed you wearing her clothes for you to catch on how much she did. The blonde was hardly subtle in her affections toward you on a regular day, let alone when she'd return from training or wake up after a sleep in to you pottering around in the kitchen wearing only her jersey, last name sprawled proudly across your shoulder blades)

It all started off harmless, the taller girl always having been incredibly affectionate and touchy toward you, which was no issue given both your love languages included touch. Her hands rested innocently on your knees, tracing small shapes into the soft skin, but then they started to move a little higher, wandering hands gently grabbing at your thighs.

"alessia." you warned quietly, quickly moving her hands away from where they sat dangerously close to the hem of your hoodie. The blonde only hummed, eyes trained in concentration to the game on the tv in front of her, hands laying dormant on your thighs, perfectly manicured and resuming their absent minded tracing.

"less." you warned again, this time with a tired sigh as her hands slid up your legs and her fingers dipped into the waistband of your shorts, nails scratching gently against your hips. "I think you should take a break amore mio." the striker smiled charmingly, hands immediately placed back to where you'd moved them from, the girl interlocking your fingers and bringing them to her lips, gently kissing the back of your palm.

"love we go through this every term, I have to get these reports done. Would you rather I not come to your game tomorrow? Because if we carry on with what you want right now, that's going to be the outcome." You again sighed, your girlfriend leaning in to bury her face into your neck as you messed around with the rings adorning her slender fingers.

"Of course I want you at the game. Just take a small break, let me give you a massage or something." The girl mumbled, pressing feather light kisses to the sensitive skin, your eyes briefly fluttering closed in pleasure before you shrugged her away.

"Five minutes, that's it." You warned seriously, your girlfriend nodding eagerly as her lips quickly reattached to your neck. "Please don't tell me you're setting a timer." she sighed, forehead slumping down to press into your shoulder with a groan, already knowing the answer to her own question as you finished up tapping away at the apple watch on your wrist.

You placed your laptop back on the coffee table, your girlfriend nudging for you to adjust your position on the lounge, turning your body so your back pressed into her front. 

"Baby your shoulders are ridiculously knotted, try to relax." alessia chastised quietly, you withholding a moan as her fingers dug expertly into your skin, working hard to try and de-stress your tightly clenched muscles. 

"is it working?" the blonde asked softly, peppering buttery kisses down the side of your jaw and you hummed, closing your eyes with a content sigh of relief.

"good. So, mearps and tooney will be here in a bit to-" alessia started as your eyes shot open, stress once again consuming you, pushing your body away from hers, eyes widening. 

"Tonight? I have to get back to these reports less." you sighed tiredly, both of you jumping slightly as your timer sounded and you were quick to tap it off, moving your body further away from alessia's who frowned at the sudden lack of contact.

You adored your girlfriends team mates, both at club and country, all of them making sure you knew that just because they were alessia's friends first didn't mean they loved or cared for you any less.

lotte and georgia even having gone out of their way to give alessia herself a stern talking to about never breaking your heart, it may have been fueled by an alcohol filled celebration post euros win, but never failed to make you laugh or feel the sincere care from the other girls.

Right now however the two bubbly Manchester players were the last people you wanted to see, entertaining anyone a thought far from your reach and capacity at the moment. 

You had plans you felt you couldn't back out of for the rest of your weekend. A doctors appointment tomorrow morning, lessons to be planned for the new term, going to alessia's game in the afternoon and out with her family for dinner afterwards. Then Sunday would be consumed by your own family, your grandmothers 95th birthday not something you could just skip out on, and your family were not ones to half do a celebration so you knew it would be a full day commitment. 

So in accordance you'd planned to get your reports done tonight so you could enjoy your weekend stress free. 

Though subconsciously you knew 'stress free' was always going to be a lie.

 You'd had a lot longer than a few days to get these done, but with procrastination and long days overwhelmed by wrangling 25 stir crazy holiday hungry students, your week had drizzled by without a single one touched, every time you tried filled with someone else needing your attention, both at school and at home.

It didn't help that because your girlfriends love language was touch, when your attention couldn't be on her in the minimal time you had alone together during your busy weeks, she'd often become quite frustrated and needy. 

"I don't see why you're upset, haven't you had all week to get them done?" your girlfriend questioned, not intending it to come across as accusatory as it did. "alessia-" you started with a sharp sigh, fingers squeezing the bridge of your nose as you pressed your eyes closed.

"you know the time leading up to the end of term is the busiest for me. The kids are wild and un-engaged but I still have to get through the last of the curriculum with them, I have to go through all their homework and all their assignments to collate these reports, I have to forward plan my lessons for next term so I can actually have a break in-between them-" you paused to take another deep breath, feeling the stress bubbling up rapidly inside you.

"- we have plans with our families all weekend, I need peace and quiet to get these done tonight and as much as I love tooney and mearps we both know that won't happen if they're here." You inhaled, closing your eyes and letting go of the bridge of your nose to run your hands through your hair, letting out a slow and shaky exhale.

"So you have had all week to get them done then." alessia shot back without thinking, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly as you paused to take a breath, knowing that if you gave in to an argument there was even less chance of you getting things done. 

"Can you not just reschedule to another night? Or go to one of their houses?" You asked softly, trying not to let your emotions win over. "Could you not have worked on your time management? I feel like we have this exact same argument over your inability to mange your own work load all the time!" alessia challenged with a frown, your own face falling at the lack of understanding and support from the girl who was supposed to be your partner.

"like you said, this happens every term. You never manage your time right and get overwhelmed and stressed when it comes to a head when all of your stress could be avoided if you just learnt from the mistakes made last time, prioritized things correctly and fixed the problem!" alessia huffed, throwing her hands up and sending you a pointed look of annoyance.

"you know what? You're absolutely right alessia I don't have the time management to argue about this right now. And yes this is all my fault, because between being needed at school or needed by my students or their parents or needed by my own family or my own friends or your friends or my coworkers or my boss, how dare I not prioritize you and your needs from me. Oh wait? That's what I'm trying to do so I can come to your stupid fucking match tomorrow! So congratulations you are absolutely right and you do whatever you want, just leave me alone and don't expect to see me there tomorrow." you finally snapped, the stress bubbling up and boiling over before you even had a moment to take a breath. 

Standing to your feet and snatching your phone and laptop from the table you stormed off upstairs, the slam of the bedroom door seemingly triggering knocks at the front one announcing the arrival of your dinner guests, who had no idea what they were about to walk into.

Alessia looked upstairs and bit down on her bottom lip, contemplating following you, but the continuing knocks at the front door had made the decision for her, the girl composing herself before hurrying over to open it. "Finally! What did I interrupt you mid shag?" mary teased, hurrying inside past her teammate who closed the door afterwards, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened.

"Hope everyone's decent!" mary yells looking around for you, the teasing grin falling flat from her face as she instantly picks up on the strange tension in the room and the somewhat guilty look plastered to the young blonde in front of hers face.

"Where's tooney then?" alessia asked quietly, making her way into the kitchen to grab mary something to drink. "Her turn to buy dinner, she was still trying to decide what to pick up on the way. Hey leave that, what's happened?" mary moved to close the fridge, nudging alessia and opening her arms, the younger girl accepting the hug with a troubled sigh.

"What's gone on less?" mary asked softly, dragging her to sit at the island as the older woman joined her, rubbing her back gently when alessia groaned, dragging her hands down her face before recounting the argument and most of what lead up to it.

"Oh less." mary sighed once she'd finished, alessia resting her head on her hand with a frown. "For a smart girl you're so thick sometimes." mary stated bluntly, shoving the strikers head off of her hand as she swiped her arm out from beneath her. "mary!" alessias frown deepened, shoving the girl back whose smile only grew.

"when you get home from late training, whose got dinner ready and waiting for you on the table?" mary simply asked, shutting down the blondes questions with a wave of her hand, waiting patiently for an answer.

"she does." alessia mumbled.

"when you're in a strop cause we lose or you miss a sitter, whose there afterwards to build you back up and look after you?" mary questioned again, her pointed look shutting down any protests from the younger girl who sighed and repeated the same answer as before.

"when we go on national camps, we're away for what? weeks at a time? same thing with tournaments, away games, media days, we were gone for months with the euro's-" mary continued as alessia let out yet another troubled sigh, the pieces starting to slot together in her head.

"okay yes, I get it." the younger girl intervened, mary waving her off before continuing.

"no less, let me finish. You got upset because what? she doesn't give in to your cry for attention and give into whatever you want from her? which mind you she does do every other day, as well as give her entire care and attention to twenty five kids, daily. God knows I struggle to deal with you lot who are adults daily! Not to even think about how much pressure is likely put on her from the school, her students parents, people can treat teachers like shit. But despite that she still goes out of her way to do the little things like double check your kit bag for you on a weekend in case you forgot something, leave those soppy little notes in your bags for you to find when we go away to camp, go out of her way to cook for you and have it ready when you're home late . But that's probably because she knows how moody you get when you don't eat right." mary joked lightly, bumping her shoulder playfully against her teammates.

"my point is, you can hardly have a go at her for you not thinking she's managing her time right. When the main things you're sopping about her not having time for is something she avoids things like her work, to do. So really..." mary trailed off, looking hopefully to the blonde beside her.

"-she's not bad at managing her time, I need to get better at managing my expectations around her time." alessia finished as mary's eyebrows shot up in surprise, that answer better than what she was even angling for.

"bingo!" mary confirmed as alessia let out another loud groan, feeling the weight of the dirt from the hole she'd dug herself into beginning to weigh heavily on her shoulders. "that makes it sound like I'm one of her students just constantly demanding her time and attention." alessia whined into her hands, shaking her head remorsefully. "I mean you said it, but if the shoe fits..." mary trailed off with a shrug, unable to argue the somewhat valid point made. 

"less, you've been infatuated with the girl since you laid eyes on her in that coffee shop, there's a reason we took the mick out of you for it. Show her that when she's struggling to manage her time and her workload, you're there as her partner to help her shoulder it and work through it. Support her like she's always supporting you, its not all about the big gestures either. Do the little things that help take away from the stress she's feeling right now, you love each other very very much, and she still knows that." mary comforted the striker, again gently rubbing a hand up and down her back as alessia nodded.

"well I'd say my work here is done, that'll be 250 pounds for my valuable time and treasured advice please." mary stood to her feet, holding out her hand expectantly, alessia unable to keep from cracking a small smile as she pushed the keepers arm away.

"right. I'll go call tooney and we'll bugger off, you go fix things with your lady and hopefully I'll see you both tomorrow. But-" mary started before alessia cut her off, guessing already what the keeper had to say. "-but if she has reports to do, it's okay that she misses the game." alessia confirms, mary beaming proudly as the two of them walked to the front door.

"good girl, god they grow up and learn so quickly." mary wiped a fake tear from her face as alessia practically shoved her out the door, thanking her and with a quick hug she was disappearing off into the crisp april air.

meanwhile you sat upstairs trying your very best to concentrate on the reports in front of you, your mind running rampant with the stress at the thought of not getting them done, the overthinking causing somewhat of an internal meltdown as you closed your laptop and laid down with a large sigh.

a knock at the bedroom door shifted your focus, you sat back up and hastily yanked the laptop open before resting it on your knees, calling for alessia to come in. the blonde gingerly opened the door and leant against the frame, rocking awkwardly on the balls of her feet as your eyes stayed trained to your screen.

"i made dinner." the older girl announced softly, running a hand through her hair with a small sigh when you didn't respond. "do you want me to bring you up a plate so you can keep working?" she took a seat carefully on the corner of the bed, reaching out to place a hand on your ankle, a small sense of relief spreading through her body when you didn't push her away.

"i'm sorry." "i'm sorry."

you looked up as you both spoke in sync, small smiles settling on both your faces as you did. 

"you don't have anything to be sorry for, I've been quite selfish. You have so much on your plate at the moment and instead of helping you share the load I've just been adding to it and complaining when things don't go my way. that's not healthy and not helpful and i'm really sorry, i hope it isn't too late to change that." alessia was quick to apologize again as you closed your laptop and moved, sat beside one another at the end of the bed.

"i could have communicated things a little better instead of just bottling it all up and then snapping on you, that wasn't fair and i'm sorry too. And you were right I do need to get better at managing my time and prioritizing things so it doesn't all bank up to be dealt with at the last minute." you admitted shyly, the both of you reaching out for the others hands, fiddling absentmindedly with one another's fingers.

"i love you." alessia blurted out, a smile creeping onto your face at the words, echoing them back as you both shared a tender kiss, relief filling both your bodies that the argument for now had been resolved. 

"where's mearps and tooney?" you asked, perking up as you suddenly remembered part of what lead to the argument in the first place. "at their own places, mary might have popped over and admittedly talked some sense into me." the italian admitted with a guilty smile, the two of you sharing a look before bursting out into laughter, both of you looking toward the keeper as an older sister figure for this reason.

"so, game plan." your girlfriend straightened up, kissing your knuckles before dropping your hand. "i'll bring you up some dinner, you work on your reports, try to go to bed before eleven and get some sleep. then tomorrow i'll drive you to your appointment in the morning, go to my game. You stay here, and do your reports. i'll tell my family we'll go to dinner next week instead, they come every week so they won't mind, we order pizza for dinner and i'll be around if you need anything but i'll stay out of your hair. Then hopefully everything's done by your grandmas birthday on sunday." alessia rambled out, only pausing to take a breath once she'd finished.

"less, baby-" your eyebrows knitted together, the girl holding up her hand to silence your protests before they could fall from your mouth. "no, you always go above and beyond for me, this is the least i can do for you. please?" she practically begged, hand coming to softly rest on your cheek as you nodded, leaning in to connect your lips again, smiling at the all too familiar feeling of warmth it ignited in you.

long term you knew this was a problem you had to work on, but for right now, wrapped up in your little love bubble, you knew things were going to be okay, and that was all that mattered.

[bfpnola]

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[chelseeebe]

crush.

a/n: hmm i wonder if you can guess what this is about? i have listened to this song an ungodly amount of times while writing this and i am literally obsessed. i rlly wanted to make this angsty n sad but eddie never gets a happy ending when i write him so decided against it hehe

no use of y/n! smut (18+) eddie is a bit of a douche but very much makes up for it in the end <3

eddie munson was trouble. but you knew that.

he was quite oddly proud of the fact his dad was in jail, facing the chair no less. having been shipped off to his uncle’s in hawkins when he first got sent down.

it was too much for his mom to juggle both him and his brother. especially as eddie was such a handful. she’d call him occasionally and they’d visit every christmas. she mostly called to tell him of his brother’s achievements. disappointed that he wasn’t academic like his big brother.

when he’d eventually graduated high school, third time lucky, he’d picked up a job at the local mechanic shop. learning from the older guys as he went.

your uncle owned the place so you’d be a regular visitor, it meant lots of fussing from his workers, something you basked in. they’d give you sneaky cigarettes and threaten to knock the head off of any guy that dared bother you. and in the summer you’d sit atop the low wall and share cold beers.

when eddie started, he’d seemed like he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in knowing anything about you. you’d assumed that he probably had a girlfriend.

not noticing how his eyes sneakily leered at your legs when you’d been turned away or how he’d try to hide his disappointment when you wouldn’t turn up.

but you watched from afar, noting his habits. when he’d go for a cigarette, long hair tied back with a green scrunchy, an artefact probably stolen from said girlfriend.

and when the summer came around and his sleeves got shorter, showcasing the jumble of tattoos on his defined arms, you were practically foaming at the mouth to get to know him.

you would never ever let him know. not unless he made the first move. and you stood by that.

then one day as summer drew to a close, bare legs swinging as you sat on the wall outside, he’d come up and stood next to you, holding out the box of marlboro reds.

‘y’want one?’ his own cigarette perched between his pink lips, one eyebrow cocked.

you silently take a cigarette, placing it in between your lips and holding your hand out for the lighter. he does one better, taking the lighter from his pocket, flickering the flame and lighting it for you.

it takes every bone in your body to stay upright and not collapse into a pile of mush. your stomach fluttering at the intimacy, his callous hands only inches from your mouth.

you’d thought about his thumbs and how perfect they’d feel running along your lips.

he leans back against the brick, cleaning his oil stained hands on some old rag, taking a long drag, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth.

‘you doing anything tonight?’ he asks, squinting as the setting sun glares into his eyes, the orange glow beautifully cascading on his features.

‘hmm.. no,’ trying hard to act as casual as possible, though your heart was practically bursting from your chest.

‘my band’s playing the hideaway tonight, you should come,’ he smirks, grey smoke blowing out of his mouth with every word.

‘your band?’

‘yeah.. i play the guitar, sing a little.. we’re good i promise,’ flicking the cigarette to the pile of other butts at the entrance.

the mention of the guitar is enough to convince you, not that you needed much. filthy thoughts crowding your mind, watching as he pushes himself from the wall, standing in front of you.

‘i might come down, what time are you on?’ you ask, throwing your cigarette into the pile next to his.

‘we’re on at nine,’ he nods, beginning to walk back into the warehouse, ‘i’ll see you tonight.’

his assertiveness makes your cheeks flush, dipping your head and grinning at your lap hoping your uncle hadn’t noticed your conversation.

you do go. obviously.

making sure your skirt is appropriately rolled up, ripped fishnets adorning your legs and enough eyeliner to resemble a raccoon.

it doesn’t go unnoticed by eddie, or anyone really. the grubby old drunks sleazing around you, questionable touches and frankly inappropriate comments. eddie’s eyes stay firmly planted on you throughout, darkening as you stare back at him.

it’s no shock when you find yourself pressed against the rough back wall of the hideout, one of eddie’s hands beside your head, the other creeping underneath your skirt, mouths colliding in a sloppy kiss.

hungry for more as you cling onto his neck, his fingers skirting eerily close to your already wet cunt. you can feel him smirking against your mouth when you buck your hips in response.

‘you coming back to mine?’ he mumbles between kisses, the hand on the wall moving to caress your cheek, rough palms holding the heated skin.

you nod enthusiastically, pressing your body against his, still trapped between him and the wall. he pulls back, eyes glinting with the street lamp. pupils dilated with utter lust, thumb tracing along your swollen lips just like you’d once pictured.

the drive back to his trailer is torture, both of you too frustrated to make conversation. the aching feeling between your legs worsening when his hand reaches over, resting on your thigh. the worst part is that he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing.

soft squeezes as you press your thighs together, willing for the road to somehow shorten.

you practically jump on him the second you walk through the door, pressing him against whatever solid surface you crash into first. hands desperate to touch him, pulling the holey band shirt up and over his mop of hair.

calloused hands nipping at your thighs as they travelled beneath your skirt. leading you backwards into what you assumed was his room, his tongue making lazy contact with yours when he misjudges the placement of the door, smacking straight into the wall.

he takes this as an opportunity to swap your positions, pushing you backwards into the small room. hands gripping your ass when you stumble into the corner of the bed, tumbling backwards and bringing him down on top of you.

you’re not even properly kissing at this point, breathing heavily as he’s poised above. he pulls back, moving you up the bed with ease, arms slung around his neck.

‘you’re insane,’ he breathes, mattress dipping on either side of your head as he holds himself up, eyes wandering from yours down to your exposed chest, tits peeking out of the tiny top you’d chosen.

‘you gonna do anything? or you just gonna stare?’

he goes from incredibly stoic and admiring to an large grin, no hesitation in lifting the shirt over your head. throwing it somewhere on the cluttered floor as his lips find yours again, spare hand finding the warmth between your legs.

your fingers fiddle with his large belt buckle, rutting your hips upwards, trying to get his hand to something. anything other than just sit there. frustrated with the speed in which he was moving, he grins into your mouth, finding your desperation amusing.

‘christ you’re needy,’ ever-so-slowly hooking his fingers into the waistband of the lacy underwear you’d work just in case, pulling them down with a harsh tug.

‘i’m going home if you don’t hurry up,’ you threaten, though it was empty.

his hand taking place of yours and unhooking his own belt, ‘no you’re not,’ he laughs and you can feel the tent in his jeans rub against your now bare cunt.

the anticipation in your stomach bubbling, eager to have him inside of you. the movement of your own hips doing nothing to help as they move upwards against him, legs wrapped tight around his back.

he pulls his jeans off antagonising and slow, relishing in watching you squirm beneath him, trying to find any relief in the little he was giving you. kicking off the black skinny jeans onto the floor, peering down between your bodies.

his fingers had found their way back between your legs, teasing your sopping hole with his index finger. dipping in but never enough.

a groan rumbles from your throat, ‘please.. just- fuck,’ panting when his middle finger joins the tormenting of your cunt, absolute putty in his hands.

‘ask me nicely,’ he demands, a wide smirk already plastered on his face when you look up at him, pupils blown out and wild.

you can tell he was just as desperate as you were, but taking extra pleasure in getting you begging for him.

‘please.. please fuck me,’ you swallow, eyes closing as you feel his leaking tip circle around your slick entrance.

‘that’s better,’ he quips before pushing himself in, breath hitching in his throat as your legs clamp around him, pulling him in.

‘h-holy shit,’ he murmurs, slowly moving his hips, willing himself not to fucking come already, your whines doing him absolutely no favours.

you slide your hands from his neck to his shoulders, nails digging into the moist skin when his pace quickens. eyes drooping shut when his thumb meets your clit, drawing small circles around the sensitive nub.

the undeniable sounds of your body meeting his full the room, soft cusses flooding out of his mouth when your hips move against him, urging him to move faster.

‘jesus.. you’re so.. uh, fuck you’re so perfect,’ stammering through deep breaths, even the feel of your soft thighs around his waist were fucking him up.

he braved looking down, the vision of your cock drunk face and soft moans, pushing him towards his orgasm. your eyes fluttering when he hits the soft, spongy spot inside, thumb unforgiving around your clit.

‘right there,’ you mewl, hurtling towards your own orgasm, stomach tightening and your legs trembling with every erratic thrust, his own attempt to get you there before him.

‘oh my god,’ you whine as the coil snaps, white-hot pleasure exploding behind your eyes, clawing onto the skin of his shoulders.

his thrusts stutter as your walls clench around him, thick ropes of come painting your insides as he collapses on top of you, mouth open as he rides out his high still inside.

you finally open your eyes, running soothing hands along his back, catching your own breath. cheeks warm and painted a sweet shade of red.

eventually coming back to earth, he rolls over onto the spare side of the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. pushing the long black hair back and out of his face.

he stays like that for a few moments, basking in his euphoria. you sit up, and reach down for your discarded shirt, holding it to your bare chest.

he peeks over, ‘you’re going?’ sounding almost disappointed.

you look back over your shoulder at him and shrug, wasn’t that what he wanted? most men would. in fact, they’d dress you themselves if it would get you out of there quicker.

‘you can stay y’know.. was kinda hoping we’d do that again like, at least twice,’ smirking as his fingers toy with the hem of your skirt.

‘okay,’ lips twitching into a smile, falling back onto the bed when his hand tugs on your hip, pulling you into his warm chest.

-

thus started whatever the hell it was you had going on now. not quite a relationship but enough to be spending half of your time with him. both at the shop and not. many nights spent watching corroded coffin, an unholy amount of black sabbath covers.

you come to learn that eddie regards ozzy osbourne as a hero. someone he tries to style his entire life around. it pisses you off no end when he jumps off the tiny stage at the hideout and onto a crowd of old drunks.

scalding him afterwards for being so stupid because one day they won’t catch him.

‘darling, one day the crowd’ll be so big, you won’t have to worry about it,’ he laughed, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

it’s not long before everyone in the garage figures out exactly what’s going on. your uncle expressing his clear disdain for the new relationship. threatening a passive eddie with a dull screwdriver the second he clocks on.

‘i’m telling you now, that i will kill you if i have to.’

the sight alone makes you collapse into a fit of laughter, eddie’s eyes wide with his hands up in defeat. chuckling himself when your uncle walks away.

one night, you’re sat waiting for eddie to finish fucking about with some motorcycle. your uncle tapping his foot impatiently.

‘i can lock up if you wanna go home,’ you offer, leaning against the uncomfortable metal desk.

‘yeah i do,’ throwing the heavy keys at you, glaring over to eddie, ‘no funny business, and i mean it.’

you smile, placing the keys on the desk next to you and watching as eddie emerges from beneath the bike, hiding his mischievous grin by biting down onto his bottom lip.

‘don’t you fucking dare,’ he warns, pointing at eddie as he walks towards his own car, shaking his head.

‘yessir,’ eddie calls after him, receiving an annoyed honk in response as he hightails out of there.

so when you’re sat atop the old, dusty cadillac just mere minutes later with your legs wrapped around his waist, you giggle into eddie’s mouth.

‘what’s funny?’ he mumbles, hand travelling down your waist, awfully close to the waistband of your jeans.

‘he’s serious, y’know?’ placing your hand on top of his, stopping it from going any further.

‘good,’ his lips sloppily connecting your yours, quickly swapping the position of your hands so his is perched on top, moving both of them down and past your waistband.

‘you’ll get us both killed,’ gasping as he makes your hand brush against your already soaked hole, feeling his grin in the crook of your neck.

‘he’s not gonna find out,’ he utters, softly sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin.

you go to protest but you’re taken into shock when one of his fingers enters the slick hole, your hand flying out from beneath his to clutch onto the back of his neck.

‘you want me to stop?’ he teases, moving his finger antagonisingly slow, thumb tapping on your clit.

you shake your head no, leaning back and shifting your hips forward along the hood of the dusty car, the metal creaking beneath you.

instinctively throwing your head back when he slides in another finger, the other hand digging into your waist, sure enough to leave a bruise in the morning.

‘holy shit,’ you breathe, feeling his growing erection brush against your thigh, ‘fuck me,’ you beg, immediately going against everything you’d said earlier.

‘huh? what was that?’

your hips writhe against his fingers, ‘fuck me,’ pleading for more than he was currently giving.

he pulls his hand from your jeans, smirking when he goes back in to kiss you, yanking your jeans and panties down around your thighs in one fell swoop.

‘now who’s the one begging for it?’ he groans, struggling with his own jeans, eager to disgrace the poor rusty old car.

the bonnet makes a loud clunking sound from underneath and you seemingly sink into the metal. you and eddie stare at each other, wide-eyed and frankly terrified. neither of you brave enough to look at the inevitable dent your ass had just made.

collapsing into a fit of giggles when eddie lifts your body, mumbling a chorus of shits and fucks, preparing to lose his life to the hands of your pissed off uncle.

-

‘why the fuck do you have a gun?’ you screech, holding onto the metal door of the locker for stability.

you’d only gone in there in search of his cigarettes, not expecting to find a fucking glock chilling in his tattered old rucksack.

he rushes over, dropping the spanner with a loud clatter, ‘hey hey.. shh, why are you going through my bag?’ his face screwed up as you turn to face him, stern faced.

‘i’ll ask you again, why do you have a fucking gun, eddie?’ wildly throwing your hands about, trying to amplify your point.

his large hand grabs wraps around your wrists, pulling them down out of his face, ‘it’s not mine.. i’m just.. holding it for a friend,’ he peeks around the door, making sure nobody had heard your screaming.

after meeting his friends, you’re sure it���s true. a group of dope slingers who had no regard for their lives, or anyone else’s for that matter.

‘so you thought bringing it to work was a good idea?’ you fume, trying to wriggle your arms free from his grasp.

‘i forgot it was in there, look, it’s not mine, alright? it’s going back tomorrow,’ he looks angry, brows knitted together, jaw tense.

you already worried about him enough. sometimes he’d go m.i.a. for a few hours and you just knew he was somewhere chasing after that group of pricks. he’d sworn to you that he’d never touched that shit, sticking to strictly weed and occasional ketamine.

‘he’ll fucking kill you if you bring that shit here,’ referencing your uncle who was only in the other part of the garage. your hands still trapped in his grip.

‘i forgot,’ he huffs, anger easing as you soften your gaze, realising that your frustration wasn’t so much with him, ‘i’m sorry, alright? it’s not mine- i don’t think it’s even been used.’

you jut out your bottom lip, exhaling sharply from your nose, ‘i don’t care.. just, just don’t bring all that in here.. my uncle’s a good man- i don’t want him involved in your shit.’

‘i know,’ he nods, ‘i know, i’m sorry.. yeah? i promise it’s gone tomorrow,’ eyes searching your face for any sign of forgiveness.

‘okay.. whatever,’ you blink up at him, ‘you can let go of me now.’

‘kiss me and i’ll think about it,’ his frown quickly turning into a smirk.

‘get away from me, you stink,’ faking disgust as you turn your head to the side, trying to conceal your own smile creeping onto your face.

‘shut up,’ he mutters, attacking your exposed neck with a million kisses, eliciting a loud shriek as he pushes you back into the lockers, the metal banging as your back collides with it.

‘not in the fucking garage,’ your uncle rounds the corner, pissed that he’d been subjecting to such a sight.

eddie lets go immediately, wiping his sweaty forehead, unknowingly smearing black shit all over the skin. you lean back against the locker, apologising to your uncle with your eyes.

he aggressively tosses his rag at eddie, ‘clean yourself up, you look like a fuckin’ idiot,’ before getting back to tinkering with some car.

-

eddie had somewhat always regarded himself as a hero. needing to constantly save people, throw his weight around when necessary. or completely unnecessarily, as you’d see it.

you usually rolled your eyes and pulled him away. but tonight it hadn’t worked.

and he’d got his ass absolutely handed to him by a group of men in some new bar you were trying. one of them had come up to you, a little drunk and far too handsy. nothing you couldn’t handle on your own.

but eddie had had to get involved, shoving the drunk backwards into the bar, crashing into the rest of his pals gathered around.

so one of them threw a punch, connecting with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards. he’d tried to hold his own, pushing you away in the middle of the chaos.

you’d had to step in the middle when the men had circled around him on the floor, all leather jackets and raging testosterone levels. rather pathetic.

you stayed silent for the entire walk back to his trailer. eddie trailing along, clutching his already bruised cheek.

‘i’m sorry,’ he calls from a few paces behind, groaning as he walked. you ignored it, pressing on until you reached the trailer park.

you stand behind as he unlocks the door, sulking because of his impulsive actions. well deserved, you thought.

as soon as you’re inside, he turns to face you, ‘can you just speak to me?’ pouting, putting on his sickening puppy dog eyes.

you just want to rip his head from his shoulders, it wasn’t like he used his brain much anyway. you shove his chest, ‘sit down.’

he complies, perching on the sofa and still feeling sorry for himself as you grabbed the antiseptic and the cotton pads from the bathroom. walking back into the room with a worthy scowl on your lips.

you sit next to him, slightly too harsh as you turn his face towards you. dousing the cotton wool in the smelly liquid, pressing it to his cheek.

sucking the air in between his teeth and gripping onto the soft sofa, ‘jesus fuck,’ he curses, but stays sat still, too scared of what you’d do if he dared move.

‘serves you right,’ you hiss, dabbing the cotton on the wound, ‘i owe you a fucking black eye for that shit.. i’ve told you, i don’t need you to start throwing fists for me.’

he places his hand on your arm, eyes sad as they gaze up at you, ‘i know.. but he was fuckin-,’ stopping whatever he was about to say when your eyes meet his, glaring at him.

‘yeah, he was a creep.. but i can handle it, eddie,’ running your finger over his split lip, garnering a wince from eddie.

‘yeah,’ admitting defeat with a soft squeeze of your arm, ‘i’m sorry,’ eyes glimmering with hope when your face softens, not able to stay mad at him for very long.

‘mhm,’ tossing the now-red cotton ball onto the small coffee table, ‘does it hurt?’ locking eyes with him once more.

‘only a little.’

you pause briefly, ‘thank you.. for protecting my honour or whatever, but i can handle that shit without you.’

he doesn’t reply verbally, but his eyes glint, lips curling into a small smile. he doesn’t need to say it. you know exactly what that look means. unspoken but you can feel it so deeply.

it’s exactly why you felt so sick watching him essentially get jumped. why your heart stang when he hadn’t got back up.

‘i know you can,’ breaking the silence, fingers still curled around your arm.

you exhale, giving in completely, ‘well, at least you look super tough now.,’

‘y’think so?’

‘mhm, sexy too,’ once again tracing over the small cut on his lip, pulling his lip down with your thumb.

his eyes glisten with infatuation, the simple action already driving him crazy. gazing at you through long eyelashes and praying to god you’d always be here to clean his wounds.

-

you hadn’t realised you’d dozed off to sleep until the creaking of the trailer door jolts you awake. you’d got tired of waiting for eddie, who had promised to be back before eleven. telling you it’d be fine to just go straight to his, wayne wouldn’t mind.

the dusty alarm clock flashed 3:30, hours after he’d told you he’d be there.

the floorboards creak and there’s hushed whispers from the living room that you can just about vaguely make out as something along the lines of, ‘shit, sorry.’

‘what the hell are you doin’? she’s been in there waiting for you all fuckin’ night.’

‘i know.. sorry for waking you uncle wayne, night.’

you close your eyes again before eddie’s bedroom door opens and he creeps into the room. you brace, waiting to see if he’ll acknowledge your presence.

‘you awake?’ he calls out quietly, shimmying out of his denim jacket.

‘yep.’

‘i’m sorry i’m late.. i got caught up,’ you can hear him rustling about, stepping around the shit on his floor to get to the bed.

he sits on the few inches of mattress between you and the edge, reaching his arm out to find your body resting his hand on your exposed arm.

‘where the fuck have you been?’ you glower at him, his shitty plastic blinds letting in just enough of the bright moon to illuminate his face.

‘i was with rick.. i didn’t realise what time it was,’ kicking his shoes off onto the old carpet.

‘don’t lie to me eddie.’

he sighs and you can see his eyes drop, knowing he’d already been caught out, anything he tried to say now was futile.

‘alright,’ thumb stroking your goosebump filled arm, trying to keep you docile enough to tell you the full story, ‘promise you won’t get mad?’

you brace, waiting for the horrible truth of how he’d been with some girl, that this was pointless and you should get the fuck out of his bed. you nod, perhaps not really meaning it.

‘right..’ he bites down on his bottom lip, shuffling to face you, ‘rick uh, got into some shit, needed some cash to get out of it.. you really can’t get mad, alright?’

‘i won’t, just tell me,’ reaching out to latch your finger into the silver chain hanging from his belt loop, now knowing that at least this had fuck all to do with you.

he swallows, finding your eyes in the darkness, ‘we robbed that corner store down on seventh.. it was a one time thing, yeah? these people he was fucking with are bad news, we had to,’ he scrabbles to justify himself to you.

‘what?’

‘i said you can’t get mad.’

‘i’m not mad.. is that what that fucking gun was for?’

‘no- well, i dunno.. he had it on him but he didn’t use it, promise,’ hand sliding up your arm to caress your cheek.

‘how much did he need? jesus christ eds, i wish you’d just told me,’ you pout, picturing him in some crazy western-style shootout in the tiny corner store.

‘i know, i’m sorry.. i didn’t want you getting involved, it’s done now, no more,’ thumb pressed against your temple drawing small lines on your skin.

‘okay,’ you nod, not quite believing him but having to suffice with what he was giving. you didn’t like to think about the shit he got up to with rick, better left in the dark for the sake of your sanity.

‘y’gonna let me in? s’fucking freezing out here.’

you oblige, shuffling across the bed and lifting the blanket for him to crawl under. he quickly gets out of his jeans, throwing his t-shirt somewhere on the ground before getting under the blanket.

his cold arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his chest. you shiver under his touch, sighing when your head touches his skin.

‘m’sorry,’ he mumbles into the top of your hair, ‘i’m all yours tomorrow.’

you mutter a small, ‘good,’ nestling into his hold, slowly dropping off to sleep, comforted by his warm arms.

-

eddie was absolutely furious. you hadn’t even meant to say it, at least not in the way it had came out.

he was being a dick again, showing off at the bar after you’d already told him you wanted to go home. but he wasn’t listening. and ended up with the swollen cheek to show for it.

‘how many times do i have to tell you that you can’t just fucking fight people because they were rude to you once?’ you huff, gripping onto the steering wheel.

‘i’m sorry, okay? you could’ve gone home.. i would’ve been fine on my own,’ he counters, rubbing his sore cheek, slumped down in the passenger seat.

you scoff, ‘yeah, looked like it,’ rolling your eyes as you’d had to pull him off of the floor once more.

‘jesus christ, it’s not that deep, i’m alive.. you’re alive, just leave it,’ fed up, with his ego slightly bruised, he didn’t mean to snap but tonight had pissed him off too.

‘you’re gonna end up dead.. or just like your dad, is that what you want?’ you’d immediately regretted it, the words sounded foreign leaving your mouth.

‘is that what you think i am? see, you think you know me, know my dad.. but you haven’t got the slightest idea what it’s like,’ he spits back, face screwed up in frustration.

‘i didn’t- i didn’t mean it like that,’ you plead, sneaking brief looks at his aggravated face.

‘d’ya know what? let me out here, i’ll walk.’

‘eddie.. i’m sorry please ju-,’

‘let me out of this fucking car,’ he hisses, already pushed past his limit.

you oblige, pulling over on the dark road. you weren’t far from the trailer park but it’d be at least a twenty minute walk and it was pitch black.

‘it’s dark, will you be okay?’ but you’re cut off with a slam of the door, he’s already stormed off into the woods before you can even think about locking the doors and trapping him inside.

you’d honestly thought he wasn’t being serious. an empty threat. biting down onto your bottom lip, internally debating whether to go out into the woods and drag him back.

the thing is, eddie knew the woods, had used them as a shortcut to get home for years, whereas you’d merely driven past on the way to his. there was no use in going out there with no flashlight and ending up lost.

so you turn the car around, driving towards your own house for once. you’d see him at the garage tomorrow. he’d have calmed down and you can weasel your way back into his good books.

except, he doesn’t turn up for work the next day.

your stomach flips when your uncle comes banging around the corner expecting eddie to be trailing behind.

‘where is he?’

‘what? he’s not here? i don’t- i don’t know, we uh,’ you stop yourself, ‘i stayed at home last night.. i thought he’d be here,’ mind racing, already thinking of what terrible things could’ve happened in those creepy woods.

‘he hasn’t turned up, y’wanna tell him that if he’s sick i need a phone call, something.. he doesn’t get off just because you two are messin’ about,’ he points his blackened finger at you, walking back into the garage shaking his head.

you don’t even make it fully into the warehouse, turning on your heel back to your old car and speeding out of there. you’d check the trailer first and then make the treacherous journey through the woods.

when you drive up the gravel, you can see his van isn’t parked outside in it’s usual spot. okay, maybe he went out. or was just late to work. at least you know he’d made it back and wasn’t still in the woods somewhere.

you still knock on the grimy door, knowing that wayne would probably just be waking up.

the door swings open and he looks positively fuming until he sees it’s you, ‘oh, y’alright doll? early isn’t it?’

‘hey wayne, is eddie home? he didn’t turn up for work so i’m just.. wondering if he’s okay..’ you swallow loudly, knowing damn well he wasn’t in there.

‘no.. no he went out last night, seemed pretty pissed off so i didn’t bother to ask- you okay? y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ he looks genuinely concerned, holding onto the plastic rim of the door.

‘we had an argument and he stormed off,’ tears welling in your eyes.

‘yeah i figured, i’m sure he’s alright.. sometimes he just needs to calm down for a while, don’t let it worry you,’ he adds, the sentiment was nice but your heart was thudding.

you weren’t even officially together for fuck sake. but you at least knew how you felt about him and had a small inclination that he felt similarly. maybe you’d fucked it for good. he had no real loyalties to you, what was stopping him from running off and never speaking to you again.

‘okay,’ you nod, blinking rapidly so to hide your tears, ‘can you please tell him to call me if, or when he gets back?’

‘sure thing sweets, i’ll see you later,’ he waves before closing the door.

you traipse off back to your car, thinking of a list of places he could possibly be. a handful of them being immediately crossed off as it was the middle of the morning.

-

it’s almost evening before you think to check rick’s house. having driven around all day looking at his usual spots for him, asking everyone if he’d been there or if they knew where he could be.

it was only at the hideout where one of the girls behind the bar suggests rick’s with a chuckle.

eddie had stopped by rick’s before, you’d stayed in the van though and he’d disappear inside before emerging with a ton of weed and a shit eating grin on his face.

you can spot his van the second you round the corner. feeling the relief wash over you the second you know he’s actually still alive and in hawkins. then the feeling of guilt is replaced by rage. annoyed that you’d driven the entirety of this shithole town and he’d just been here getting high the entire time.

there’s a small second in which you debate if going up and banging on the door was actually a good idea or if it’d just cause more problems.

you do it anyway, parking next to his van and walking up the wooden steps to the massive house. a muffled thumping of music gets louder as you approach. they probably wouldn’t even hear you.

but you knock, waiting patiently for someone, hopefully eddie, to answer.

the door opens, revealing a skinny, tousled man who you’d never seen before, he stares at you, mouth open for what feels like minutes.

‘is eddie in there?’ you ask, staring back at the strange man.

‘yeah, two seconds,’ he mumbles before closing the door, hopefully going to get the man. you couldn’t be sure he even knew what you said.

the door opens again a few moments later, looking rather disheveled, eyes wild and still in the same clothes he’d skulked off in last night. he stinks of a mixture between booze and weed, hair hanging limp around his face.

‘woah hey, what are you doing here?’ sounding genuinely confused, not the reaction you’d imagined.

‘well, you didn’t show up for work.. i wanted to know if you were alright,’ you shrug, suddenly feeling stupid for even stalking him this badly.

‘shit, yeah.. i was s’posed to call, i forgot,’ he steps out onto the porch, closing the door round behind him, ‘you came all the way out here to find me?’

‘yeah,’ you say quietly, just realising how much of a crazy bitch you must seem.

‘eddie!’ a female voice calls from inside the house. you look between him and the door as she peers round the door, a pretty girl, someone else you’d never seen before.

your heart sinks.

‘oh shit.. sorry,’ she grimaces, ‘i just wanted to know if you were coming back in?’

‘just give me two minutes, alright?’ he glares at her as she holds her hand up in apology before going back into the house.

that blind rage you’d felt pulling up the house reappears and you’d love to reach across and slap his now-very purple cheek.

‘that’s not- that wasn’t what you think it was,’ he pleads, noticing your clenched jaw and balled up fist.

‘yeah i’m sure it wasn’t,’ you add sarcastically, ‘i can see that you’re perfectly fine so i’m gonna go ahead and leave, you have fun,’ heart beating out of your chest as you turn around and walk down the wooden steps.

he’s already hot on your tail, ‘can you just- baby listen to me,’ calling out from a few paces behind.

‘get fucked,’ you spit, trying to get into your car before he could reach you.

he’s grabbing at your arm the second the cars unlocked, ‘listen to me,’ you’re spun around to face him before you can even register what’s going on.

‘what? what are you gonna say? you don’t owe me anything, eddie.. you can do whatever you want,’ your throat burning from the untruthful words.

‘i haven’t-,’ he sighs, collecting himself before continuing, ‘i wanted to piss you off a little, so i came here and then me and rick got into some shit and i lost track of time, i’m sorry,’ fingers beginning to dig into your arm, afraid that if he loosened his grip you’d run away.

‘so who’s your little girlfriend?’ sounding far more jealous than you’d perhaps liked.

‘that’s fucking rick’s girlfriend, i don’t even know her name,’ he pleads, his bottom lip jutted out in his best puppy dog impression.

you swallow, hardly believing him, ‘right, even if that was true, it wouldn’t matter.. you’re single, i’m single, you can do whatever you want,’ shaking your arm as a last ditch attempt to get him off of you and get away.

his face falls, he’d fucked up before, sure. but not to the extent where you wouldn’t be kissing all over him moments after he apologised. or where you’d outwardly expressed your lack of an official title.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware that you weren’t exactly official. he just always assumed that there was an understanding that you two were together, but not really.

‘you’re not serious? i fucked up, i know. but i haven’t fucked her- or, or anyone else for that matter.’

his fingers loosen and you take that as your opportunity to yank your arm away, opening the car door and getting halfway in when his hand slams onto the metal, stopping you from closing the it.

‘get off of my car,’ you glare, your hand gripping the handle as you argue with him.

‘i’m trying to talk to you, you won’t even give me that?’ he begs, knuckles white as he’s losing the battle against the door.

‘i have nothing to say to you,’ you spit, using your other hand to gain leverage, he relents and you slam the door shut. shoving the key into the ignition before speeding off out of the long driveway.

eddie stands there gormless for a minute. staring as your car disappears into the distance. he kicks his boot into a pile of leaves, cursing as the front door opens and rick peers round having heard the entire argument from his front room.

he argues against getting into his van and chasing after you but he’s still well over the limit and you’d only be more pissed off if you knew.

-

you must’ve passed out at some point, exhausted from the rage and pain of it all. not even bothering to crawl under your blanket, just in a heap on one side of your bed.

the window slides open, forcing you out of your slumber. a string of curses come from the other side of your room and then a small thud as whichever crazy psychopath makes their way into your room.

you bolt upright, eyes adjusting to the dark room. just about making out the silhouette of the man. the undeniable curly hair making it rather easy to decipher who it is.

‘shit,’ he mumbles, feeling his way through the room towards your bed, tripping on something on the floor, he hadn’t noticed you sit up.

you switch the lamp on, squinting as the light fills the room. looking like a deer in headlights as he pauses, frozen as you glare over at him.

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you hush, knowing your dad was definitely fast asleep just down the hall.

‘i didn’t wanna wake your dad up,’ he looks down at the floor to see what was caught around his foot and then back at you, ‘i need to-,’ he looks down again, realising exactly what he’d tripped over, ‘is that my fucking shirt?’ he picks the torn up piece of fabric off of his boot.

you’d hacked at the metallica shirt with a pair of rusty scissors, now in multiple pieces strewn across your floor. the scissors dumped somewhere next to your bed.

‘you cut up my shirt?’ he asks, bewildered, the black cotton just dangling from his fingers as he walks over to the bed.

‘no,’ a blatant lie, ‘the dog ate it,’ shrugging innocently.

he’s in disbelief but his lips twitch, turning into a smirk, dropping what was left of his shirt back onto the floor, ‘you’re fucking crazy, you know that?’ now towering over you beside the bed.

‘you’re a fucking asshole, you know that?’ you refute, still so infuriated with him.

‘yeah, i do,’ he sits on the empty half of your bed, ‘that’s why i’m here,’ eyes full of hope, the exact opposite to how you’d left him just hours prior.

‘you’re here to tell me that you’re an asshole? could’ve saved yourself a trip, i’m already well aware of that.’

‘are you gonna shut up and listen to me?’

you scowl at him but keep your mouth shut, nodding to get him to carry on.

‘i’m here because i- hm,’ he tenses, moving up the bed, his hands cupping both of your cheeks, needing your full attention, ‘because i fucking love you, yeah?’

his brown eyes search your face for a response when you don’t answer, hands slowly releasing their grip on your skin. maybe it was too little too late, had he fucked any chance at making things right?

you take a minute to read his face, trying to determine if he was just trying to weasel his way back into the comfortable position he was in with you.

when his face rightly falls due to your lack of an answer, you finally croak out a small, ‘you do?’

his hands squeeze the fat on your cheeks, relieved to hear something come out of your mouth, ‘of course i do,’ he looks slightly offended that you’d even question the legitimacy of what he’d said.

so you lunge forward, crashing your lips to his, grinning against his cheek as your lips connect in a chaotic kiss. his body falling backwards onto the mattress as your torso collides with his, holding himself up with one hand.

‘holy fuck,’ he mutters into your mouth, clinging onto your jaw for some stability.

you pull away, eyes glimmering as you gaze up at him, ‘i love you too,’ twisting your face into a satisfied smile.

uncaring if your dad could hear, forcing him backwards onto your mattress, clambering atop, your lips hazily connecting with his again.

[wordsinhaled]

21 24 !! hugs for dream boy !!

thank you for the prompt and i’m so sorry this is atrociously late, i just got done prepping for an exam that is now over! ❤️

from the soft prompts list — “this is a very long hug now sort of hug” and “just really needed a hug sort of hug.” and i threw in ‘i missed you’ as a bonus

-

Dream has not known himself to be one for hugs, or indeed embraces of any kind.

Of course he understands their appeal, from the slightly removed perspective that is uniquely his as the lord of dreams. He has crafted more than one reverie of nothing more complex than a single, protracted, yearned-for embrace from someone special to the dreamer.

He comprehends—if only academically—that a simple hug can be, under the right circumstances, blissful. Healing. Transformative. So say the psyches of the visitors to his realm.

Still, Dream is not prepared to experience this firsthand. He is not prepared for the unrestrained enthusiasm with which Hob Gadling bounds up from his chair and opens his arms to him, as though this too is part of their familiar ritual.

Nor is he prepared for how much he is pleased by this welcome. For how much he feels immediately eased to be once again in Hob’s presence, even after so short a time.

Dream has surprised him; it is not their usual evening of the week but a Sunday afternoon, and the Inn is mostly empty: only a few patrons sitting at the bar, Hob comfortable at his customary table, sunlight streaming over the papers surrounding him.

It should feel like Dream is trespassing—he is unexpected, and Hob had clearly been busy—yet somehow it does not.

Instead, it feels startlingly ordinary—a tableau of Hob’s day-to-day life; one Dream finds himself pleased to become a part of.

Hob says, “Hello, my friend,” soft and full of fondness, as though a year of weekly meetings has done nothing at all to make a dent in the joy of calling Dream such. He opens his arms wider.

Dream does not normally indulge himself in Hob Gadling’s subconscious, but Hob was daydreaming of just this not a moment ago, loudly enough that Dream could not help but to see flashes of it.

And Hob Gadling’s daydream is thus: Hob would hold Dream’s narrow frame as though each atom of his form manifested in the Waking were cherished, with enough cherishing left over to bleed over into the Dreaming as well. He would squeeze hard enough to lift him slightly from the floor—if Dream would allow such a liberty; for Hob would fain do only what Dream would find pleasing and not a thing more. Hob Gadling daydreams of what Dream would smell like at the crook of his neck, were Hob to bury his nose there; of how Dream’s hair would feel brushing his cheek. He imagines it soft as cornsilk and ephemeral as shadows, which is, impressively, not far from the truth.

And in Hob’s daydream he says “I missed you,” quietly enough that Dream might not hear. But—secret fear, or dearest wish, or both?—there is every chance that Dream could hear, for Dream, Hob knows, does not have the hearing of a mere mortal.

“I missed you too,” Dream says aloud. He cannot help himself. Who is he, if not a bringer of men’s dreams? This one is easy to fulfill. It requires only that Dream offer up a truth he finds suddenly easy to admit, standing here, sharing the same shaft of sunlight that pools in the smile lines around Hob’s eyes.

Dream takes a step towards Hob, until it is only natural that he finds himself within the circle of Hob’s waiting arms.

He drops his forehead onto Hob’s shoulder, and curls his fists into the thick wool of Hob’s sweater. His hair, shadow-soft, brushes Hob’s cheek, and he knows that in this moment he smells of all that Hob likes best.

(Later, when he thinks of falling in love with Hob Gadling, he imagines he began to realize it then.

For it was a single embrace that set his manifested heart to swaying like a boat settling at anchor; a single embrace that made of him a leaf drifting groundward on a warm spring breeze.

A singular moment of bliss.)

[blueiscoool]

Teen Discovers 1800-Year-Old Ring Engraved with Goddess Athena on Mount Carmel

The artifact was examined with the assistance of Prof. Shua Amorai-Stark, an expert on ancient rings and amulets from the Kaye Academic College.

A Haifa teenager recently discovered an ancient engraved ring while hiking on Mount Carmel in northern Israel, according to the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA). The ring, which is engraved with the image of Athena, the Greek goddess of war, has been handed over to the IAA and is set to be displayed in Jerusalem.

This July, 13-year-old Yair Whiteson's discovery will be displayed at the Jay and Jeanie Schottenstein National Campus for the Archaeology of Israel in Jerusalem.

The teen's interest in fossils and rocks helped lead to this shocking discovery. When he made the discovery, Whiteson was hiking near the ancient quarry site below Khirbet Shalala with his father, who had recently returned from four months of army reserve duty. The teen noticed a small green object, initially mistaken for a rusty bolt. After closer inspection, he realized it was a corroded ring with an engraved image.

“At first glance, I thought it was a warrior,” Yair said.

The family contacted Nir Distelfeld, an inspector at the IAA’s Theft Prevention Unit, who quickly arranged for the object to be transferred to the National Treasures Department. The artifact was then examined with the assistance of Prof. Shua Amorai-Stark, an expert on ancient rings and amulets from the Kaye Academic College.

“On this beautifully preserved ring is the image of a helmeted naked figure holding a shield in one hand and a spear in the other,” explained Distelfeld and Dr. Eitan Klein from the IAA's Unit for the Prevention of Antiquities Robbery.

“Yair's identification of the figure as a warrior was close; it is likely the goddess Minerva from Roman mythology, known as Athena in Greek mythology. This goddess, popular during the Roman period in the Land of Israel, was considered the goddess of war and military strategy, as well as wisdom.”

Anicent archaeological discovery made by young teen

The bronze ring dates back to the 2nd-3rd Century CE - the Late Roman Period. It was believed to have belonged to a female, possibly a farmstead resident, a quarry worker, or even as a burial offering in a nearby cave.

Khirbet Shalala, the archaeological site near the discovery, is situated on a hilltop in the Carmel Mountains, surrounded by Nahal Oren and near the perennial water source Ein Alon. Various archaeologists have explored the site, including 19th-century Palestine Exploration Fund surveyor Prof. Ruth Miran and a Bar-Ilan University expedition led by Prof. Shimon Dar.

Visitors to the Jay and Jeanie Schottenstein National Campus for the Archaeology of Israel can revel in ancient history through IAA tours throughout the summer.