#Rounded Corners Office Furniture

[interiorergonomics]

Improve Workplace Safety with Office Furniture Designs

Enhancing workplace safety through thoughtful office furniture design is an essential aspect of creating a secure and productive work environment. Considering Ergonomic Office Furniture One of the primary considerations in this regard is the ergonomics of office furniture. Ergonomically designed chairs, desks, and workstations reduces the risk of musculoskeletal disorders, which are common…

[danikamariewrites]

Hide and Seek

Dark!batboys x dark!reader

Notes: I feel like this isn’t really a dark fic, more of a chapter in the lil saga I have going on for these guys.

Warnings: kidnapping, fighting, blood, violence (I think that’s it)

“I know where you are, little mouse.” Cassian baits. The General has looked everywhere for you. You seem to have abandoned your usual hiding spots for this round of hide-and-seek.

The attic of the Town House was the last place Cassian had to check. The game was approaching the two hour mark, making it the longest game yet. If Cassian doesn’t find you within an hour you come out and gloat about how good you are at hiding.

That or you would send whispers on the wind giving Cassian hints as to where you were. Craving the chase you’d give him once he found you.

Cassian throws the attic door open, the wood clanging hard against the floor before he poked his head in the dark dusty room. “Little mouse,” Cass drags out. He creeps in on light feet. The old wood occasionally creaked under his heavy boots as he made his way through old furniture and boxes of items long forgotten.

His heart began to race when there was no trace of you. No scent. No wind or whispers. Cassian began ripping sheets off of covered furniture and opening crates, hoping you would be there. But nothing. He raced back to the main part of the house, stilling in the hallway, forcing himself to listen for you.

There was no maniacal giggle. No wind with your taunting whispers. No creeping footsteps.

Cassian’s heart was pounding against his ribcage now. Tugging on the bond for you but no response. Rhys came running from his office, feeling the echo of Cassian’s distress.

“What’s wrong?” Rhys rushes out. Cassian’s eyes dart around the hall, expecting you to whip open a door or jump out of a dark corner. “We were playing and I couldn't find her. It’s been hours, I’ve checked everywhere Rhys,” He says through clenched teeth, frustrated with himself. “I can’t feel her.”

An ominous darkness settles over Rhys. The High Lord's eyes turning the color of a predator. His shadowed features become a void as he unconsciously lets the beast beneath his skin loose.

Rhys pulls the darkness back in, composing himself, returning to the regal High Lord. His mouth opens but before the commands come Rhys’s darkened eyes glaze over. A distant scream echoing in his mind.

Azriel emerges from the shadows. The ones always at his shoulders scatter across the house on the hunt for any lingering trace of you. Rhys is still focused on the voice Cassian and Azriel can’t hear.

“She’s still in the court.” Azriel’s shoulders seem to loosen at the news, but still tense. “The woods. They took her to the woods.”

“How?” Cassian growls. “I’m not sure, but we need to move quickly.” A murderous rage runs through Cassian at the thought of their mate in the hands of an enemy.

Minutes later Rhys winnowed them to the edge of the forest. Wings out, the High Lord took off first. Azriel and Cassian follow close behind. Above the tree line the trio split, soaring over different sections of the forest.

—

You so enjoyed messing with your boys. Sometimes they needed a little dose of fear. A reminder of what you are capable of. They coddle you too much, treating you like a princess that should be locked away in a tower, waiting just for them. But you’re their precious killer.

But this wasn’t one of your games.

When you were running from one hiding spot to the next you stepped outside of the wards. Only for a moment, to get a better perspective of the house from the street. Two masked males winnowed next to you, quickly grabbing you and bringing you to the edge of the forest where three more masked males were waiting.

At first, in your initial confusion, you thought it was a game the boys were playing with you. But when you saw the others you knew it wasn’t your mates.

After they tie your hands, the group of males pull you through the forest with no instructions or threats. They quietly bickered amongst themselves about what to do with you as if you weren’t there at all.

You fidgeted with the ropes, the knot barely loosened as you tried to maneuver the loops around your wrists. Rolling your eyes you realized it will take too long to get free the easy way. You needed out now, before these males took you farther into the forest. You weren’t interested in meeting the dark creatures that called these woods home.

Coming to a halt, one of the males pushes you to sit on a tree stump. One guarded you with his back facing you, while the others continued their bickering a few paces away. You didn’t care what they were fighting about. It was probably about what to do with you. How to ransom you, kill you, or use you for leverage against the High Lord.

Silly males and their silly games for power.

Sucking your lips in and biting down on your tongue, you silently popped your left thumb out of place. Inhaling sharply through the pain you slip your hand free of the loop.

Another strained inhale and you pop your thumb back into place, pain tingling through your hand. Staring above you see a dark silhouette hovering above the trees. Your heart leaps at the sight of those familiar wings.

He stalls for a moment, descending into the branches when two more familiar bodies join him.

Waiting with bated breath you keep your eyes fixed on the canopy of trees, wondering where your boys will leap from. The group heads back to your tree stump, unaware of the danger above them. Two steps were all your mates allowed them to take before pouncing.

Three Illyrian warriors hit the forest floor, shaking the ground and trees around you. Cassian draws his long sword as Azriel’s shadows swirl your captors. Raw power radiates from Rhys, his anger tangible in the clearing.

The slaughter was brutal and quick. Rhys didn’t give the males a chance to surrender, leaving no survivors alive after picking apart their minds.

You watch, a wicked look of pleasure and intrigue plastered on your face. A warm fuzzy feeling rushes through your body watching your mates in action. They are beautifully lethal. Their fighting is like a dance you crave to always be a part of.

When the killing is over Azriel is the first to approach you. You smile up at him. His hazel eyes dark from the adrenaline of the fight. Azriel cups your jaw, his chest heaving from trying to take calming breaths. He wipes blood spatter from your cheek with his thumb.

Cassian shoves Azriel away from you, his eyes quickly taking you in. Flinging yourself into Cassian’s chest, you wrap your arms around his neck, not caring about the blood covering his leathers.

“I won,” your voice smug accompanied by a wicked smirk. Cassian shakes his head, not fighting the smile pulling at his lips. “Of course you did, little mouse.”

[reminiscingtonight]

Everything Has Changed

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Love You More (Part Two)

[WOSO Masterlist]

Finishing your fourth ice cube, you look at the clock again. It’s the fifth time you’ve looked at it in the past couple minutes, impatiently awaiting the return of your wife. 

Lia had all but dragged Ana out after practice, saying something about how she needed the blonde to go shopping with her for some new furniture in her apartment. So pouting and feigning annoyance, you returned home alone. 

While you were slightly peeved at Lia for depriving you of some quality time with your wife, there’s a part of you that appreciated it all the same. It left you plenty of time to finally wrap up the gift that you had been waiting to give Ana. 

It’s been sitting in a spare duffle of yours, tucked between a couple old shirts and stolen hoodies. You bought it earlier in the week, immediately after you went to the doctor’s office to confirm the result of your at home test. 

It isn’t until you’re nearly all the way done with your next ice cube that you hear some muffled words through the door. Like a puppy to a bone, you perk up at the sound of keys in the lock.

This is something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. Up until last year, you and Ana have never played for the same club team. Lia’s the one who introduced the two of you to each other all those years ago. Having taken a quick liking to the Swiss when she first joined Arsenal, Lia took it upon herself to be your wingwoman until it became apparent that the blonde was the one for you. Countless blind dates set up by the brunette all seemed for naught when you vacationed with Lia and a couple of mutual football friends and instantly hit it off with Ana. Dating was superseded by an engagement, and a wedding came not long after.

So yes, most of your relationship was spent balancing long distance, but after her contract in Spain ended, Ana decided to come to Arsenal to be with you. You had already decided a while back that you’d play out your last couple years in England at a club that’s become so dear to you, and Ana took it as a win to go play for a club where her wife and best friend both played at.

So now you get to wake up to the love of your life, pull faces at each other as you scramble to make it out the door to trainings on time, dance around the kitchen as you try to make dinner (which will inevitably result in Ana stepping in when you burn it), and bask in all that domestic bliss the two of you missed out on in those early years of your relationship. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Ana shouts, a goofy grin on her face as she rounds the corner to the living room. 

You have a similar smile on your face, tilting your head up to receive the kiss Ana presses to your lips in greeting. Letting out a relieved sigh, Ana all but collapses onto the seat next to you. Chuckling, you give her head a couple scratches as she launches into a rant about Lia’s indecisiveness.

“After my fourth sigh Lia nearly shoved me over and said all I wanted to do was go home and cuddle with you, which of course was what I wanted to do, but I couldn't let Lia of all people be correct, you know? So I had to walk a couple more laps with her around the store until she decided she didn’t want anything from that place.”

“Number one best friend right here,” you chuckle, expertly slapping away Ana’s hands as she tries to tickle you for your jest. “Hey, hey! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Huffing, she rolls her eyes good heartedly at you. Though the pout on her face becomes real when you move to get out of her arms. “Where are you going?” she whines, hands scrambling to pull you back into her side. 

“Calm down, Ana. I’m coming right back,” you shout over your shoulder, quickly running to the closet to grab your gift. It takes some digging, but eventually you find it. 

With a skip in your step, you return to a sullen looking wife. Ana perks up at your return, hands instantly making a grabby motion towards you. 

“To reward your patience, I got you a gift.”

Ana blinks in surprise, mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ at the sight of the wrapped box in your hands. “A gift? For me?”

You laugh at her dumbfounded look. “Yes, I’ve got a present for you,” you repeat.

Eyebrows scrunching up, you can almost see the gears turning in Ana’s head. “I didn’t forget anything did I?”

Laughing, you press a kiss against your wife’s head. “No, babe, you didn’t. I just wanted to spoil you today.”

Settling into her side, you watch as Ana begins her careful work of unfolding your gift. Unlike you, Ana treats all wrapping paper with care. You’re the opposite, much more likely to tear and rip at anything placed in your hands. Now the impatient one, you start tapping your foot on the ground. You really hope Ana’s going to like your gift, but when it comes down to it, you can’t really predict the way she’s going to react. 

Finally finished unfolding, Ana pulls out a tiny jersey, eyebrows furrowing as she takes in the Arsenal logo on the front. You can tell she’s still confused as she flips it over to see the name on the back.  

There are so many letters there that the font is smaller than it normally is, the letters still nearly curling their way to the front. The two of you had hyphenated your last names after marriage, but professionally you still wore your own. When given the choice between which jersey to get, it wasn’t really a competition.

Wracking her mind, Ana tries to think why you got her this shirt. The last shirt you got your cat led to hours of glaring and hissing, even after you took it off her and gave her cuddles, so Ana knew it wasn’t for her. And the dog you shared was definitely too big to fit into something this size.

It’s at this moment Ana realizes the shape of the jersey. Or more specifically the way the ends meet together with a click, giving way to two tiny leg holes.

“Is this…” Ana trails off, fingers absentmindedly tracing her last name as she tries to calm her racing mind.

“I wanted to get one of my jerseys for the baby but for right now I’m more than happy to give them a jersey of the best player I know.”

Ana whips her head around, eyes darting between your face and your stomach. It’s obvious she doesn’t really know where to look, eyes a little wild. “Baby? Are you… is it… did it work?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod. “I’m pregnant.”

It’s silent for a minute as Ana takes in your words. Her eyes have started watering, bottom lip quivering with the beginning of a sob. 

This is something the two of you have been waiting for for years. Of course your careers are important to you, but you both agreed that a successful career meant nothing without a family to share it with. After an injury took you out for the majority of last season, the two of you decided there was no time like the present and began looking into IVF treatments. However, despite all of your hardwork and prayers, nothing took. 

The two of you had just begun discussing alternative methods for expanding your family when you took your last pregnancy test. 

And it was positive.

Ana’s still trying hard not to cry when she cups your face, pressing her forehead against yours. “You’re pregnant?”

Nodding, you gently grasp Ana’s hands before directing them onto your abdomen. It’s this action that causes the dam to break, and Ana begins sobbing, quickly pressing her face into the side of your neck to muffle her cries. 

Soothingly rubbing your hands up and down her back, you whisper how much you love her and how amazing of a mom she’ll be. It takes a couple minutes before her cries die down, the blonde overwhelmed by the news of your expanding family. Eventually she pulls her head up, allowing you to wipe the tears from her face. 

“We’re having a baby,” she wetly laughs, pressing a kiss to your fingertips when they brush past. 

Grinning, you murmur those words back. Ana lets her eyes drop back down to her hands, to where they are still pressed against your stomach. Her eyes are full of wonder and love as she takes in all in. 

The two of you are having a baby. 

You’re going to be parents.

“I love you,” she whispers, voice full of emotion as she presses a kiss to your lips. Giving your hand a light squeeze, Ana leans down, lifting your shirt so she can press a light kiss against your bare abdomen. “And I love you too, my little dove. Your mama and I can’t wait to meet you.”

You don’t think anything can beat this moment--

(You didn’t think anything could beat your first date.

Or your first anniversary.

Or your second.

Or Ana asking you to marry her.

Or your wedding.

Or Ana moving to London to be with you.)

--at least until you see your precious daughter staring up at you with wide eyes, dressed in her little Crnogorčević jersey.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Historic 1891 limestone landmark home in Denver, CO. 3bds, 3ba, $1.685M.

Very well preserved. Look at the tile floor and railing.

The parlor is so original, one must wonder why they would decorate it with this style furniture.

The fireplaces are exquisitely preserved.

Love the wainscoting in the dining room- textured wallpaper is a wonderful alternative. A door leads out to a patio.

Very high-end cabinetry in the kitchen. Look at the unusual sink.

You don't see many large 1/2 baths w/wainscoting like this.

Leaded glass windows line the stairs.

The primary bedroom. I like the windows that pull open.

Renovated bath. I wonder if the wall tile is original.

Bd. #2 is an office. Look at the newer built-in.

Bd. #3 is lovely. Has a rounded wall.

Wow, this antique piece makes an amazing sink cabinet. Look at the blue mirror. Gorgeous.

Interesting artsy tile in the shower.

Beautiful patio outside.

Lovely grounds and garage.

Small porch on the side of the house.

Fenced in area with a hot tub.

2 story garage.

Half workshop.

2nd fl. has potential for a small apt.

All lit up at night.

Outdoor area has lights and the garage has electricity also.

5,620 sq ft corner lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3359-Alcott-St-Denver-CO-80211/13309988_zpid/

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

Summary:

Inej decides to teach Kaz a thing or two about work ethic

Or: Kaz is abhorrently Kerch and Inej won't have it

read on ao3

To her great displeasure but no surprise whatsoever, Inej wakes up alone.

In a vast expanse of the bed, she sleepily pries her eyes open, squinting at the harsh sunlight, only to find no trace of her husband. The other side of the mattress is cold to the touch, the pillow nice and fluffed, the edges of the comforter tucked underneath the bed frame to keep it flat. While she is tangled in messed-up sheets, cotton smooth and warm against her bare legs and stray hairs clinging to her cheeks.

She would very much like to linger some more. Maybe do more than just linger - the bed is very nice and she is feeling very indulgent and lazy. But apparently, Kaz decided to be annoyingly Kerch this morning.

With a grumble, she slips from underneath the covers, sliding onto the floor and reaching for her dressing robe. In the mirror, her reflection blinks at her; she spares it just a glance, busy with undoing her braid but then her eyes come back for a double take. There is a dark bruise of a love bite blooming on her neck, right underneath her ear. It makes her feel hot and clammy in her own skin, to look at it.

She traces it lightly, with her very fingertips, and the smallest of shivers runs down her spine.

Some sounds are coming from the parlor adjacent to the bedroom and she pays a bit more attention to them now, cataloging them one by one. A faint scratch of a pen nib against the paper. A slight clatter of porcelain. A muffled cough. She thought Kaz went out on business, or to his office possibly - but, evidently, he's still right here, behind the door. Left her to have a lie-in while he's doing his work, because duty before pleasure, always.

She smiles at the thought. But aren't marital duties the most important ones of all?

She decides to stay in her nightgown. Decides not to tie her robe at the waist either; it is pretty blue, like the sky in the countryside, like little meadow flowers that Kaz, in an uncharacteristic bout of sentimentalism, once sent her pressed between the pages of his letter. She tilts her head just slightly and the garment slips, silk sliding down her skin like water and exposing the curve of her shoulder.

She lets it be as well.

The carpet is rich, thick underneath her bare feet; the air smells of flowers and wood polish. Not home, but nice. Very nice. She dares even say fancy. A fancy, upscale hotel room in a fancy part of Ketterdam where they had dinner the night before and then decided to book a room.

Just another of these little luxuries Kaz showers her with when she's back from the sea, hoping, possibly, to entice her to stay longer and longer. He thinks he's being sneaky when he's transparent like glass and she indulges him in his efforts. But it's all so silly, really. There is only one luxury that can manage to keep Inej ashore and it is right behind the door - the door that she opens soundlessly into another sunny room wallpapered in cream and filled with elegant furniture of cherry oak. There is a chaise lounge, a small table with a vase of red tulips on it. An armchair with some strategically placed fluffy pillows.

And, of course, a round breakfast table, set with two plates, two porcelain cups. Two platters of food, one empty save for some crumbs and one hidden underneath a metal cover, to keep it warm. And there’s her husband, already dressed sharp in his suit and tie and with his hair neatly slicked back at eight in the morning, writing something on pages neatly laid out in front of him, a cup of steaming coffee in his free hand.

His eyes find her seconds after she steps into the room, sliding over her body absent-mindedly before they lock with hers.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, one corner of his mouth rising just slightly when she crosses the floor towards him.

He's already clean shaved and she tries not to make a face at that. She decides to make her displeasure known through not leaning down to kiss him. Instead, she drops on her chair and reaches for the teapot.

“Yes,” she pours in the tea, then adds some milk from a charming porcelain creamer. Swirls the spoon inside the cup and then licks it clean. “Did you?”

Kaz taps his pen against the wood. “Yes.”

“Good,” she smiles. Stretches her legs out underneath the table, feeling how her nightgown slips up. The table is small: he must feel the warmth of her, the proximity of her, like a phantom touch. “What are you writing?”

***read more on ao3***

[withclawandvine]

As he walks through the apartment looking for you, Shouto feels the corners of his mouth turning down. You hadn't mentioned having any plans or errands for today, but the living room and kitchen are empty. He scans the pristine rooms, his frown deepening. Because despite the weeks that have passed since you officially moved in with him, the only proof you even exist are the few framed photographs scattered about.

You’d donated most of your furniture—the slightly sagging couch and all the vibrant pillows and blankets that covered it. You integrated your books with the ones in his office, filling the shelves at last, but most of the trinkets that had adorned your old, bowing shelves were still packed in boxes in the closet. Your eclectic collection of mugs had been culled—only half of them fit in the cabinet, lined up neatly, all facing the same direction. Shouto leaves for work before you, but when he comes home, the bed is always neatly made. Your old sheets had been perpetually rumpled, still holding onto the shape of you.  

Shouto rounds the corner, stepping into the wide stream of light spilling through the open bathroom door. When Shouto looks inside, he can barely see you through the leaves of the fiddle-leaf fig you’re hefting into the bathtub, which is already filled with potted plants. Between those, and the ones on the counter, dripping water onto the marble, Shouto figures every plant you own is in here.

“Hello, love,” he says to get your attention. There’s surprise and dirt on your face when you turn to look at him, a shriveled leaf stuck in your hair flutters with the movement. While Shouto takes in the mess, he feels a weight being lifted off his chest, a smile spreading over his face. 

“You’re early,” you say, head tilted thoughtfully. “What are you doing?” 

“I was just wondering the same thing about you,” he teases. And your eyes move from him to the counter, the muddy water in the tub. 

“I read online that bottom-watering is more effective, but I guess I shouldn’t have done them all at the same time.” You say with a rueful shrug. “I thought I’d have this all cleaned up by the time you got home, but—”

“You’ve been acting like a houseguest since you got here.” Shouto interrupts the apology he feared was coming. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Knowing that he can be a little too direct, he softens his voice to add earnestly, “This is your home, too, you know.”

“I know.” But you aren’t even looking at him. Carefully sidestepping the pots and puddles, Shouto comes to you. He picks the leaf out of your hair and tosses it aside before his fingers move to your chin, tilting your face back. When your eyes are on him, he fixes you with his flattest, most disbelieving look. Which must be pretty flat and disbelieving, because it makes you wince.

“There aren’t any sticky notes on the fridge,” he starts, the words tripping over his tongue. All the little things he didn’t know how to bring up had built themselves into an avalanche. It was all spilling out now, “Or any extra socks in the living room in case your feet got cold. Our bed looks like it belongs in a hotel and you wash a spoon as soon as you’re done stirring your tea with it.”

You blink in surprise. “I didn’t want to bring my…” you trail off, gesturing to the bathtub like it explains everything. “This.” 

“I asked you to move in with me because I wanted to live with you,” Shouto says and your brow creases. You must think he’s stating the obvious, but that’s not what he’s trying to say. Not really. “With you,” he repeats. He nods toward the cluttered counter, “And all your this.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “But you’re so…” you flounder a bit before finally deciding on, “Together.” 

Shouto falls silent. Talking about himself, his life, was still far from easy. “I never learned how to be anything else.” 

Growing up, his space was one of the few things he could control. His childhood home existed in stark contrast with the people living inside it; the clean, stately rooms were filled with beautiful antiques and dysfunctional people. But your old apartment was different, it felt different—never like a museum (or a mausoleum), but a real home. It wasn’t just the hoards of well-loved and tea-stained mugs on your end tables or the perennial pile of clean clothes on your vanity chair that set it apart. It was you, leaving them there—leaving your mark. You, existing comfortably and boldly. 

“I love you.” Shouto all but blurts. “And I love watching you be so alive.” He hopes that maybe, he’ll get to study long enough that he learns how to do the same. But until then, “I’ll spend the rest of my life closing cabinets and turning off lights in your wake if it means I get to keep doing that.”

His thumb swipes away the dirt on your cheek, cleaning it, even as he says, “So please don’t tidy yourself on my behalf.”

[chimivx]

ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ "slut!" • taylor swift

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part one of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 2573 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling. if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ the beginning of the end... <3 this has been a wild ride. I love these people. thank you for the support. xo if you're new, please click the masterlist to read about all thats happened to these people before you start here... trust me. <3 posted ↠ 6/6/24 ~ 9:06 p.m. est

 ~ may 2015 ~

Soft rumpled blankets beneath you, a plethora of colors warming your half bare body as you rested against the mismatched pillows thrown along the headboard, some having toppled onto the floor just over an hour ago, you waited. Hair ruffled, a mess courtesy of the boy in the kitchen, you didn’t bother to fix it while you twirled your fingers together, judging your chipped pastel blue polish in the light leaking in from the hallway. 

His room was half the size of the one in your house, not that you’ve seen it recently, you’ve been waking up between the sheets underneath you for the last few weeks. The bed was perfectly placed in the center, big enough to take up most of the space, each end table fitting satisfyingly beside it. A closet was tucked into the wall across from you, just right of the door that creaks when it's moved. 

It was truly the sweetest home. A story high, built in the seventies, the outside was half mint green siding and red brick, the front door stuck on the side of the brick hidden from the street. A single window on the front, one that looked into the kitchen, was a total change from the home you grew up in. Everything was close together, all the furniture, all the clutter. It was lived in. It was homey. And with all the time you spent there, the hominess grew.

There was a living area beside the kitchen, a step or so down to the couches that came from his mothers basement, cozy brown ones she was holding onto until he moved. A wooden coffee table from his best friend's older sister, once covered by his textbooks and notes that now shared the surface space with cases of your favorite movies from home and magazines you scribbled in. 

A piece of you lingering behind when you’d leave. 

Everything would be the way you left it when you came back. The extra pair of shoes kicked off by the front door, the shuffled magazines on the tables with the pen still saving the page you left off on, a sweatshirt slung over a kitchen chair, hair ties on his bedroom floor, a tube of mascara behind the faucet in his bathroom. Preserving your presence. A place for you to unapologetically take up space. 

Safety.

Across the short, skinny hall was another room, a second bedroom flipped into some sort of office space. A bookshelf was shoved to one corner and a desk in the other. Walking in there was like walking into a minefield, bits of school covered every inch, his and hers. Though your little square inch of space couldn’t compare to his mountains. Now that your two years were over, you were ready to burn whatever you had stored in that room.

“Okay, here we go.” His voice was light, yet deep, and even more so comforting. Carrying two wine glasses in his knobby fingers, his tall, slender figure appeared in the doorway with a smile. That smile.

Messy hair, smooth, cream colored skin, glasses perched on his button nose… You could climb him, and you wanted to, and you have. He was yours, the boy rounding the bed, Soobin belonged to you, all of him, not just the parts no one got to see. He was yours, and he was proud of it.

Shirtless, he sat on the edge of the mattress and moved closer to you, smirking at the shirt that hung down over your hips. “That’s my favorite.” Handing over one of the glasses, he snuck a kiss to your cheek.

Looking down at yourself, the acid washed Deadman Wonderland t-shirt you slipped on with Shiro’s face on the front of it made you laugh. It was worn, something he bought back when the anime aired. Tipping your chin back, you took the glass and smized. “It’s my favorite. You nerd.”

Sipping his wine, he almost blew it out of his glass. “Nerd?!” You answered with a nod. Soobin laughed, shaking his head, letting you tuck yourself into his side. Slipping an arm around you, he tousled his fingers through your hair before his hand settled on your hip. “I seem to remember you loving Ganta.”

“I do love Ganta,” you said, gazing up at him. 

Soobin sipped from his glass, his tongue poking between his lips for a second as he took you and your bare face in. “I love you.”

Three words you haven’t heard tumble from a boy's mouth in ages. Taking a deep breath, your cheeks flushing, heart skipping a beat, you blinked. Soobin smiled. It was the first time either of you had said it.

“I mean it,” he continued, eyes aglow with know. “These last few weeks I’ve…” He paused to shake his head, a shy laugh coming out of him. “I’ve felt it, and I know, I know, that this had the possibility to… scare you, but, I had to tell you. You don’t have to say it just because I did, I just-”

“Soobin,” you whispered. Shoving your glass of wine, that you haven’t touched, into his hand, you moved away from him for a brief moment. Feet tucked under you, you dragged your hands through your hair and took another breath. Part of you felt like crying. He was serious, you knew he was serious, you could tell he was serious. It’s Soobin for god's sake, the boy’s never told a lie in his life.

There was a sound behind you, him putting the glasses down, then he shifted on the bed and you felt it, his hands on your shoulders. Digging his fingers into your muscle, his lips pressed the softest kiss to the base of your neck.

With a breath, you shook your head. “How?”

He laughed quietly, and you felt him shrug. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I’m serious,” you said, turning around. Soobin’s hands dropped to your knees. Tilting his head he withheld a smile, fingers dancing gently over your skin. “How do you… How?”

The corner of his lips finally tipped up, his gaze positively driving you crazy. Nerd or not, the boy knew what to do. “How do I what?” 

Sighing, you closed your eyes. This was what he did. Communication. Clear communication. Looking at him, you whispered, “How do you love me?”

With the way Soobin’s beguiling gaze fell you would’ve thought the last ten years were splayed upon your face for him to see. Your past tugged at your heart, threatened tears into your eyes and yanked you further from Soobin in this moment more than you’d thought it would.

These words were bound to come up at some point, you’ve been seriously dating for almost an entire year. If you went off the date he first asked, it would be in two days, partially why you were sharing a special night together, to celebrate an anniversary of sorts, as well as your graduation. Fitting he’d save this for tonight.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Don’t do this to yourself.” Lifting a hand to touch your cheek, he hesitated and waited for you to nod, then touched you. He drug his thumb over your cheekbone, brushing away a tear. “Remember what I’ve told you. You’ve come so far, you’ve done great things for yourself. None of what you went through defines the kind of person you are. You are far from unworthy, you are deserving of everything great, everything beautiful and wonderful.”

Placing a hand on top of his, you laced your fingers together and watched him speak, letting his words patch up what they didn’t break. You wish you could say this was the first time he’s had to say something like this.

“You are worthy, and loved. I will never let you forget that. I’m also telling you the truth when I say that I love you. I love you a lot.” Biting onto his bottom lip, he studied your hands woven together on your lap and started to smile. “When you ask me ‘how’, I can’t explain it. You’re exceptional. You’re so kind, and entirely too cute. You’re smarter than me most days, and the way you love things is just… Overwhelming, in the best way.”

Gulping, you breathed and squeezed his fingers. “Not… smarter than you,” you mumbled. 

Soobin scoffed, scooting closer to you. “Are you kidding? You can figure things out faster than I can, my brain takes two to three business days to compute information. You’re wicked fast. You’re quick, you’re a fast thinker.”

Because I used to be sneaky, you thought. Because I was hiding the biggest secret and had to be quick on my feet.

He dropped his chin to meet your eyes that had fallen. “What are you thinking about?” After you shrugged, he said, “You can tell me.” After you shook your head, he said, “Nothing you say will make me-” Love you less.

You could see it all playing out.

Shying away from his touch, you rolled over on the bed and sat on the edge, staring down at the wooden floorboards.

Behind you, Soobin whispered, “Too much, got it.”

Not one bit of it was derogatory. He didn’t even mean for you to hear it. He was good at that, using the good tones when he spoke. You noticed this was something he’d been doing over the year you’ve spent with him. He’d pick up on these moments and save them, log them in his memory, learn from them, and know how to move forward. 

And he has the nerve to say you’re smarter than him.

You were nothing more than an observant, sneaky, slithery snake. A skill that sickened you. How an honest man like Soobin could sit here and tell you he loved you baffled you.

Beneath the guilt, the excitement bubbled. Beneath the, you think, fear? A small part of you was kicking it’s feet. He told you that he loves you. The cutest boy, the sweetest boy, the boy who almost tops every boy you’ve had in bed, the boy who brings you snacks when you’ve forgotten to eat, the boy who tries his hardest to get along with your parents, the boy who tells you day after day how important you are to him…

The boy who didn’t shame you when you told him bits of your past. The boy who keeps the alcohol in his home in an unknown spot, because he cares about you. The boy who has let you sleep over night after night, clinging to him in your sleep, finding sanctuary here beneath his roof instead of your own.

The boy whose brows shot up as you took your time turning around on the bed to face him. He didn’t reach for you, he didn’t say anything. He allowed you to do what you needed to do, he let you go. Everything Soobin did was for you. Never once, in your year of togetherness, did he force you to do anything, did he tell you what to do. All of your choices were your own, freewill. 

As fast as he made the face he pushed it away, not wanting any of his reactions to persuade you to do a thing. His lips rested in that always smile, and his hand took yours as you reached for one of his. Taking a deep breath, you nodded, studying the way your fingers fit between his perfectly. His long, knobby fingers complimenting your own. A perfect match.

“I… I love you too, Soobin,” you whispered. His lips parted. The gentle sigh that fell from them was clearly an accident, one he attempted to backtrack on.

“Hang on, I-”

You cut him off, smiling, letting go of his hand. Climbing into his lap he protested and took his hands to your shoulders. 

“No, I do,” you breathed, slinging your arms around his shoulders. Chest to chest, you kissed the tip of his nose and giggled as his cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t try to stop me from saying it. How could I not?” 

His brown eyes were alive, sparkling, gazing at you in awe. He really wasn’t expecting you to say it back, to mean it, to be so serious about it. 

Everything you’ve shared, everything you’ve done, everything you’ve told him about, it all lived between you in this moment. The past, both of yours, the damage you’ve both endured. When he opened up to you about growing up with a struggling single mother, having to grow up way too fast. The night you cried in his lap on his couch and told him all about Taehyun while he drug his fingers through your hair, letting you speak your truth. 

Taehyun, the fucked up, weird, emotional and physical cheating with Beomgyu, the drugs, how you never knew your father, the night at the club…

Over the last year he’s heard it all, and he’s opened up to you about so much more. And here you both were, holding onto one another, not judging each other for it. Choosing to love one another despite the depth of your shadows. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Soobin whispered, his hands slipping up the back of his t-shirt you wore. “For everything,” he continued before you questioned his words, and you usually would. “I know it’s been hard, especially these last few months, but look at what you’ve done. For yourself.” He paused while you took a deep breath. His eyes were locked on yours, making sure you were hearing every single word he spoke and every unspoken intent within them. “You did that. You.”

Not your mother. Not Taehyun. Not the people who’ve tried to hold you back from living a life you deserved. A happy one, a peaceful life.

You got that here. Wrapped up in Soobins arms, closing the space between your lips, kissing him roughly with an audible sigh, you got a peaceful life here. Falling backward onto the sheets with him as he let you take the lead, tugging down the waist of his sweats, you got the happy life here. 

The make-believe fantasy you once dreamed of, the privacy, the escape, the safety… You got it. This was where you were meant to be.

10/7/2019

.…If I can be brutally honest about all of it, I’m terrified. I mean, this is ridiculous, what the fuck am I supposed to do? Don’t read the bad words, ignore those, don’t use bad words. I use them when I can’t think of anything else to say, and truthfully, right now, I don’t know what else to say. Or do, for that matter. I don’t know what to do. I can’t even talk to my mom about it, and shit, she’d know exactly what to say, she always did. She was the best, and, yanno, I don’t know what’s gonna happen here, but if someday you find yourselves here with me, I’m sick that you’ll never have known her. But, you guys, I mean, shit, you guys have the best mom. The most selfless person I’ve ever met in my life. I know she’ll love you forever, and always. Take care of her, please. Love her. Love her with every bit of your heart, because I know she’ll love you with every bit of her own. You’ll never feel a love more true than hers….

☼ AO3 | wattpad | support | share with me ☼

thank you so much for reading. <3

[scotianostra]

On December 25th 1950 four young Scots liberated the Stone of Destiny from Westminster Abbey.

Here is a report from The newspaper The Guardian of the story that was enfolding.

“Scotland Yard had no further news last night of the Coronation Stone, the Stone of Scone, or the Stone of Destiny as it is variously called. There is "absolutely no trace” of it, but the police are still busy all over the country - especially on northward routes - looking for it. The stone was stolen in the early hours of Christmas Day from Westminster Abbey.

One theory is that the thieves - or from the point of view of certain Scotsmen, “liberator” - hid in a chapel overnight in readiness for their coup. They had first to prise the stone out of its housing under the Coronation Chair, which is behind the high altar. Then the stone - which weighs four hundredweight and measures roughly 26 inches by 16 inches by 11 inches - had to be carried round to the Poet’s Corner door where, presumably, it was loaded into a car. The police are looking for a man and a woman in a Ford Anglia car which was seen near the abbey in the small hours of the morning.

Descriptions of them have been circulated, and the police say they speak with Scottish accents. It is taken for granted that the stone has been stolen by Scottish Nationalists. The stone, which is rectangular and is of yellowish sandstone, has two rings let into it and normally lies behind a grille under the Coronation Chair. In 1940 it was buried in the abbey and the secret position marked on the chart which was sent to Canada for safety.

It is believed to have left the abbey only once, when it was taken across to Westminster Hall and used for the installation of Cromwell as Lord Protector in 1657. It has been “attacked” before and was once slightly damaged (in 1914), when a bomb was placed under the Coronation Chair during the woman suffrage agitation. Twenty-five years ago, Mr David Kirkwood was given permission to bring a bill for the removal of the stone to Holyrood Palace, but the bill went no farther.

The Coronation Chair is the oldest piece of furniture in the abbey, and has been used for 27 coronations. It was damaged by the removal of the stone; part of it was broken and a strip of wood from the grille was found lying on the floor. Scotland Yard sent a number of CID men, including fingerprint experts, to the abbey and have circulated a description of the stone.

There is no official confirmation of a rumour that a wristwatch was found near the Coronation Chair, but it has been stated that freshly carved initials “JFS” have been found in the gilding on the front of the chair. It seemed evident that the intruders were amateurs, for they made little attempt to hide their tracks. Whether or not they will make straight for Scotland with the stone is doubtful, though one Scottish paper said this morning that the stone might already have crossed the border.

It should not prove a difficult object to hide once it can be taken out of the car which is carrying it, and the police of the two countries are likely to find themselves with a difficult job - not so much in finding the culprits but in finding the stone. If anybody is brought to court either on a charge of stealing or of sacrilege, the case should produce some fine legal and historical points.“

In addition to numerous road blocks, a special watch was kept at docks and airports, while hundreds of CID officers checked hotels and B&Bs in the North of England. Following the delivery of an anonymous petition promising the “return” of the Stone – on condition that it would remain in Scotland – to a Glasgow newspaper, Special Branch officers soon started making enquiries about student political bodies at Glasgow University.

The liberators were indeed Scots, four students from The University of Glasgow, from the University of Glasgow (Ian Hamilton, Gavin Vernon, Kay Matheson and Alan Stuart, travelled to London, entered the Abbey in the small hours of Christmas Day and nabbed the Stone from beneath the coronation throne. They dropped it by accident and it broke in two. They loaded the Stone into their car boot and brought it back to Scotland – despite roadblocks and police searches.

The four became notorious for the daring heist and in Scotland they achieved nigh-on hero status, while in contrast the English were somewhat bewildered. All four of the group were interviewed and all later confessed to their involvement with the exception of Ian Hamilton. The authorities decided not to prosecute as the potential for the event to become politicised was far too great.

At the time, the leader of Scottish Covenant Association, Nigel Tranter commented

“This venture may appear foolish and childish on the surface, but it will have the effect down South of focusing attention on Scotland’s complaints. It takes a lot to get any news of Scotland’s national existence into the English Press, and this sort of thing is the only type of Home Rule story that gets a break in the English newspapers.”

Mungo Murray, 7th Earl of Mansfield and Lord of Scone, the spiritual home of the stone waded in with how he would be “extremely reluctant” to hand the Stone “to the English authorities,” assuming it should be returned to his property at Scone Palace. “In view of the fact that the Stone undoubtedly pertains to the line of Scottish kings, it belongs to the King as King of Scotland, not as King of England,” he said. “In the future the Stone should be kept at Scone or Holyrood instead of Westminster.”

Despite their best efforts, the authorities on both sides of the Border were unable to trace the Stone, at least until April 1951 when – draped in the Scottish Saltire – it was ceremonially deposited at the site of the high altar within the ruins of Arbroath Abbey. The Stone was accompanied by two unsigned letters, one addressed to the King, the other to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, described as “successor to the Abbots of Scone” and therefore the Stone’s “natural guardians”.

It would be a further 43 years before a UK Government agreed that the Stone. when not required for use in such ceremonies, I covered this in depth on St Andrews Day.

Church-bells across Scotland didn’t ring out in celebration – as portrayed in the 2008 film, The Stone of Destiny – yet Ian Hamilton and his friends nevertheless showed how what had seemed permanent and immutable could be changed.

The Stone of Destiny will again be on the move and will be the centrepiece of a new £26.5m museum, in Perth. Construction work on the new museum at Perth City Hall is due to start in February, with it scheduled to open in 2024. The third pic shows an artist impression of how it might look.

[the-fiction-witch]

She's Not Well P3

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Dark

Nooooo we need a part 3 im so curious nowwww

we need part 3 plzzzzzzz

I love it…..3!!!!!!!!

WE NEED PART 3 !!

Part 3 please 🥹

Ahh I need more pt 3 plzz

PART THREE, 3, tres

I need part 3 now

I finished up my work for the day cleaned my hands off and headed upstairs towards my room in the setting sun. I had seen Y/n fairly often and she never left my mind, she would always just pop down for some kisses and a cuddle and scamper away before Prof noticed she was gone. Which never gave us much time together even if I savoured every second of it. Prof did keep her on a very short lead, seriously guy drinks like a fish and can barely remember his own name let alone his patients most of the time but he keeps a watchful eye on Y/n like she was made of gold. 

I had wondered around the hospital many times and decided to do so again tonight, I had been trying to find whatever room Prof keeps her in, so I wondered the hospital corridors past the various doors and rooms I know well, I ended up down in the morgue as I had sort of been working top to bottom on the hospital over all these nights I was about ready to give up when I spotted a door down the corridor from the Morgue room between it and the stairwell, it was a heavy wooden door with many scratches and replaced parts, the doorknob had recently been removed the wood stain revealing its prior place, A lock on the outside with a heavy padlock that was covered in scratches. I knew those scratches well, as a life of thievery taught me not to leave them, someone had been picking this lock more than once, clearly someone not great at doing it leaving scratches and chipped mistakes.

I knocked on the door but no answer came, but my curiosity had already peaked. 

I took my scalpel from my pocket and worked slowly and quietly to pick the lock, once it clicked open I pulled the padlock out and slowly crept into the room. 

The room was... strange, clearly once an old stock room. But The walls had layers of wallpaper so much the walls seemed thick, The same pale cream wallpaper with lilac flowers coated the walls even if it had been ripped and broken revealing the layers underneath, The wooden floor covered in rugs and blankets giving it a slight bounce as I walked, The room was empty... With very little in the way of furniture, A small wardrobe built into the wall and the doors removed, a basket by the door, a small vanity table where all the corners had been rounded and the mirror broken beyond the ability to still use it but taped in place, a metal bathtub in the corner, A metal hospital bed filled with blankets and pillows, A small brown teddy bear sitting on the pillow. The small window was lined with thick metal bars like the morgue. A body knelt on the floor facing away from me, The room dark with a deep scent of blood in the air... 

"Y/n?" I asked my fears slipping through for a moment, 

The body shot me a look for a second I could have sworn I saw glowing eyes and a face of utter rage - 

before My body was thrown backwards. 

My back hit the floor, I quickly got to my feet as I saw the professor had thrown me out by my collar he slammed the door shut and bolted it tight. The door began to bang and scratch screaming echoing from inside, 

"wh- what was that?!" I asked, 

For a moment he only gasped, leaning his shoulder against the door until the screaming silenced, "You are relieved of duty Doctor Dawkins." 

"wha- what?"

"You. Are alleviated of your duties here." he said, "Pack your things and leave." He demanded before he began the walk back up to his office, 

"What! No! You can't just fire me!" I complained following him,

"I do not want to hear it!"

"I am the best doctor here and you know it!"

"I have spoken my word on the matter," 

"You can't just fire me! For what opening a door?!" we arrived at his office he tried to shut me out but I grabbed the door before he could close it and slammed it behind it,

"Enough! I have made my decision! you are to leave Port Victory Royal Hospital immediately!"

"I refuse!"

"This isn't up for debate!"

"what was that! What is going on! where's y/n!" I yelled 

"That is y/n!"

I froze up, "what?"

"That is Y/n. That's her room." He slumped into his chair his head in his hand, 

"... Y/n she's-"

"she's not well."

"Please... how is she not well?" I asked taking a seat across from him, 

"...She's been like this forever. Always a very strange little girl."

"Because she doesn't talk?"

"She's never said a word. She cried when she was little and once she grew out of crying. She never spoke a word no matter how anyone tried." He explained, "She was... different."

"How so?"

"Other girls want to play with dolls, She wanted to play with animals, At first we thought it was sweet, seeing her go out into the woods bringing home koalas and wombats with her," he chuckled, "She built herself a little animal hospital in the basement, I thought it was sweet kinda hoped she'd be a nurse when she grew up but..."

"But?"

"But it didn't last long, we thought she was being sweet wrapping animals up and taking care of them but she wasn't. She was opening them up and experimenting."

"Like surgery?"

"Somewhat... We didn't really look into it too much. We got her to a doctor as soon as possible." 

"... what kind of doctor?" My voice broke slightly,

"We sent her a doctor. A specialist. And he recommended she be... taken away."

"Taken where."

"The asylum. She is not well. She needed help."

"you send her to the Asylum!"

"She is not well!"

"So you sent her to the Asylum!"

"I am the head surgeon of this hospital and I will not hear from you! An untrained butcher! about how I see to the health of my granddaughter!" 

"... If you sent her to Asylum why is she here?"

"... her father died. While she was inside... her mother... I lost my daughter to the birth of her second child. As she laid in her bed... knowing her end. She begged me. Her dying wish was to take Y/n out of that place. She wanted her to be with me. Her mother never wanted to send her in the first place so... even if I disagreed. I did as she asked." he explained, "I am keeping her here. But she MUST remain in her room. For her own safety. and the safety of everyone else outside this place." he explained, "She is not well Doctor Dawkins... Not well at all." 

"So you're going to lock her down there... let her rot?"

"...what would you have me do?" 

"...Let me help her."

"You!"

"Please... let me help her. At least let me try..."

[interiorergonomics]

The Creative Office Furniture Layouts for Workspace Success

Innovative office furniture layouts are key to transforming your workspace into a dynamic and efficient environment. By incorporating flexible, modular designs, you can adapt the space to various needs, from collaborative zones to quiet work areas. These layouts often feature ergonomic furniture that enhances comfort and productivity, while also utilizing space more effectively. Embracing modern design elements and technologies can rejuvenate your office, making it more inviting and functional. Upgrade your workspace with creative layouts to boost morale and drive success.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

~Chapter 3: Haunted, Hunted, & Other Fun Hobbies~

[Ao3 link below the read more, at the end.]

It begins the day after Maul makes his return to Dathomir. 

The sith is elbows deep in datapads trying to gain background knowledge on the Crimson Dawn's next venture: an escargot farm, of all things, for a particular breed of shellfish. One that acts as a nearly universal aphrodisiac when eaten. Vos had declared the market for it 'an untapped niche' with projected gains in the 'I could buy a moon every other year' category. 

He already has a planet. Dathomir is more or less his, but Maul thinks he might like a moon or two. Besides, one never knew when they might need a spare astral body in his line of work. Perhaps for trade, perhaps for crashing into things. He is flexible. 

One minute he is reviewing zoology documents made by a mon calamari, and then gently, like a cloud over the sun, he is being watched.

His spine straightens and the sith pulls his sense of self tight to his skin, guarding himself while attempting to observe the observer. The presence slips through his fingers, but he too slips through theirs. They go round and round like two predators in the night, stalking each other through the flow of the force. 

Eventually the feeling fades, and Maul is left alone in his office space, perturbed. He waits an hour or more, patient and wary, but the sensation of being sought does not return.

He exhales heavily through his nose and returns to reading about aquarium keeping, stopping only to make snacks, refresh the tea pot, and stretch his back.

Dathomir's red star sinks below the horizon. Domir takes with it the light that had been coming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, leaving the spectacular view of the sunrise canyon in deepening purple hues. Maul takes this as his cue to end the day.

The sith stalks out of his simplistic office, and heads to the end of the hallway. The decor transitions from plasteel to roughly carved redstone at the doorway, from the soft orange glow of sodium-vapor bulbs to flickering oil lanterns and magelight. He had appointed the bedroom den at the end of the hall with far more dathomirian aesthetics than the modern office space. 

Some furniture he had been able to scavenge from the temple, mostly of carved stone, though there were a few precious wooden pieces left unburnt by the droid army among them. A small table, a few mismatched chairs, and a hefty trunk. The rest of his furnishings Maul had collected from offworld. 

The result is… functional. Quiet and dark. The bed space is large and comfortable, partially carved back into the wall for extra protection. Nowhere is too open. Everything he wishes to be reminded of has a place to sit, somewhere he can see. 

Dim candles light all the cracks and corners without hurting his eyes. There are books and scrolls to read, an orb recovered from his mother’s temple, projects to tinker with in idle moments. It is… good, he thinks. Though he might reorganize his memory items again. Later. 

For now, he plans to undress, bathe, and-

w

  a

   t

    c

     h

    i

  n

g

 

l

o

  o

    k

      i

       n

       g

          f

               o

                      r                                                      ?

                                     y       o       u           ?

Maul whips around, expecting a physical presence, but there is no one and nothing there. He coats himself in a basic spell of obfuscating mist and draws his force presence close to his hearts, under his skin. 

The observer tries to catch him up with a searching pattern that feels like smokey claws and gossamer hairs, winding ribbons and closing jaws. Threads, deceptive in their affectionate creeping. 

"One?" he rasps in the empty hallway, "No… more. Several." 

There are so many aspects of force trying to locate him that surely it must be a ritual, fueled by multiple people. Four or five, at bare minimum. He would guess it was his former master's doing, but surely Sidious would not need to look for him so much as come for him if he decided to spare the effort. 

So who? Who?

But to look with that part of him which can See is to open himself, and Maul is not certain of the wisdom in letting this coven of force users near him just for the chance to find them.

Sweat beads on his scalp, dripping down and sliding off his chin. The effort to remain untouchable, hidden from these hunters, is intensely taxing, but the force vibrates in warning whenever he starts to slip.

Then, suddenly, he is alone again. 

He waits, just as before, shoulders high and breathing hard as he remains watchful. The air remains still, lacking that dark innervation. Maul falls back against the wall, and presses the heel of a palm to his forehead. The effort has earned him a headache and shaking fingers. 

The sith returns to moving down the hall, but changes destination. His den, while comfortable, is not the most secure location available here. That title goes to his mother's sanctum, riddled with runes and steeped in ichor fueled protections. He has not yet deciphered the nature of even half of the witch-made wards from the books and murals that remain of her teachings. 

Maul slips into the sanctum, touching his chest where once her spirit had anchored itself. 

"Mother," he begins, searching for an acceptable explanation for intruding. "I seek… shelter, in your sanctum. I am hunted by a power unknown, and the force warns me to avoid its touch." 

That is an understatement. The force buzzes with indistinct warning, a vibrating drone so deep and ubiquitous it feels physical. Bumblebees underwater, crawling anxiety like marching ants. 

No reply comes. He counts that as permission.

The sith goes to sit on the stone floor at the center of grooved patterns and runes. He will meditate now and gather his strength, assuming that eventually-

It returns! So quickly the threads descend again.

Vitriolic green light bursts to his left, then forward, then above him. Sharp eyes survey the room as sections of sigils light and dim along the walls, like fireworks. The grooves in the floor begin to fill with-

"Ichor," he murmurs, watching the luminous waters fill in the circling patterns. He cannot identify the source of where it flows from. 

This… is not magick Maul has witnessed before. Savage had, reluctantly, described his own rituals, and the healing the Nightmother had done for Maul after Lotho Minor, but this is… different. Carved into Dathomir’s living stone, commanding the planet’s power even in the absence of a witch to direct it. It is wonderous.

The feeling of being looked for slides away from him with so much more ease, and he sighs in relief.

Maul ends up sleeping there, curled in on himself on the stone floor. Every few hours the cloying tendrils return again, and he wakes to watch the wards and push away the hooks that stretch for him.

It is only after a week of being chased back to his mother's room, day and night, that he realizes he is trapped on Dathomir until the hunt is ended. Until he ends it. To do that, he will have to learn to hide all on his own. Without becoming an unhinged, sleepless mess incapable of hunting these new enemies.

Maul faces this reality with easy acceptance. He has survived harsher challenges before, and will again. Mustafar, Lotho Minor, Hypori- the dark sustained him every time. 

This will end no differently.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Wow, this is 1931 home in Winnetka, Wisconsin is impressive. 9bds, 9ba, $8.9M.

Wow, look at the carved wood walls. There's an original tile floor in the foyer, too, and a leaded glass inner door.

You know, I like the white carpet on the stairs. I wouldn't want to clean it, but it looks beautiful. This home has those bas relief ceilings, too.

Is it the way they're photographing the room to get the ceiling in, or are the ceilings low? The large sitting room has wood paneled walls to match the entrance hall, plus the same ceiling and a beautiful fireplace.

Very classy guest powder room. Black marble floor with white veining, and the marble counter on top of an antique dresser has a sink ringed in gold. The gold wallpaper ties it all in.

Comfy home office. The rounded desk looks art deco and is nestled perfectly in a triad of framed windows.

The library shelving is gorgeous. Oblong octagonal cutouts in carved shelves, and that gorgeous fireplace in the middle has a pediment with a pineapple and a black & white marble surround.

I like this light dining room. Cream and pale blue bas relief ceiling is so soft and stunning.

These cheery bright dining spaces are so pleasing. This is a breakfast room in creamy white and it gets a lot of sun from the windows to the garden.

The kitchen is a professional chef's kitchen. It begins with a large pantry done in the same cream color with large glass paned doors on the cabinets so you can see the dishware. The kitchen cabinetry looks maple and has a cute corner fireplace, black countertops and copper pots hanging over the double island.

At the top of the stairs on the 2nd level is a magnificent oval leaded glass skylight. The glass panes are opalescent. And, there's a large sitting room up here, too.

They've made a walkway between 2 area rugs in the huge primary bedroom. On one side is a lovely mahogany canopy bed that contrasts well against the white room and the other side is a sitting room.

There is a huge home office up hear with a pretty French Provincial desk and a chaise lounge.

The bath is nice, there's a separate room for the toilet, and a lovely vintage marble counter on the sink. Love the rust-colored marble on the floor.

What a lovely guest room. It's so large, there's a huge picture window between 2 full-sized canopy beds.

Down in the large basement is a rec room that looks like the ultimate man cave. Rich dark wood furniture, a red pool table with an unusual pool lamp- it's not the usual stained glass, this fixture has foxes in red waistcoats holding up electric candles - love that.

Wow, man cave indeed. That fireplace is the size of a room. You can definitely walk in there. And, look at the life-sized butler statue in the corner. Is he creepy?

The home gym looks commercial. Mirrored walls and a black ceiling make it look industrial.

Outside, the iron gate makes it look like a secret garden.

The hedges are cut in patterns.

It must cost a fortune to maintain these gardens. The property is 3.25 acres.

Is it me, or does the pool look like a fidget spinner.

I love conservatories and this one is lovely. The plants and wicker furniture really bring the outdoors in.

This is the prettiest tennis court with the trees and latticed fencing.

An elaborate play set for the children looks like it conveys.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/44-Locust-Rd-Winnetka-IL-60093/70453195_zpid/

[cpirits]

(( PLOTTED || @bringxthexfirexnsfwxroleplays said: [ 💫 "Neuvillette, are you done for the day? I was wondering if I can visit your room later." | From: Aether | ]

★ ━━━━━━ Buried in a few books at his desk, the Iudex hadn't heard that the Traveler was there, it seemed as though no one wanted to disturb him and perhaps Aether had said he'd be quiet upon entering the office.

Placing the text on the desk, he removed his round glasses that he used when working to not strain his eyes so much with all the reading. "Traveler, how nice to see you. Has Fontaine been treating you well? I hope all of her services have been good."

Noting the question he had posed, a smile peeked upon Neuvillette's face. "I don't see why I cannot be, I'm actually a little sore from sitting here for hours."

Standing from his chair, he smoothed his clothing,, marking his place in the book and closing all he had open, putting them neatly in the corner of the desk. Tugging his gloves a bit on his wrists, he grabbed his walking cane, coming around the piece of furniture.

"If you wish, you can accompany me now to my quarters, I have no reason to wait, unless you wanted to allow me a nap first?"

[thewildwaffle]

Taxidermy

Another story prompt from an ao3 user who is a taxidermist. Also, yes, the main human in the story is wearing a cape because I think of most of my stories being in a somewhat near-ish future where capes have come back into widespread popular fashion. Why? Because I believe that we deserve as much.

*** *** ***

Kimit was excited to have received the invitation to the banquet at the human ambassador’s home. If being totally honest, there was also no small amount of nervousness included as well. This was going to be a big night. If all went well, the Garbon Homeworld would be rolling in riches and security. Ever since Earth’s discovery and induction into the galactic community, everyone had been scrambling to make alliances and deals with humans. Thankfully the humans had enough diverse factions that no one extraterrestrial group had been able to create a monopoly for the Earthling’s attention or resources. That didn’t mean there wasn’t intense competition, Kimit frowned and landed the shuttle in a designated drop-off area. A human standing next to a podium nodded and came up to the shuttle. Kimit had done research before coming and knew to exit the shuttle, leaving the engines running. The idea of valet parking was new and a bit strange to the young garbon, but Kimit had to admit, it felt fancy. Rounding a corner to what must be the front entrance, Kimit caught sight of other guests at the front door. Most of them were human, but there were a few fellow extraterrestrials in the mix. They were dressed in various fine clothing, some were in Earth styles, some were distinctly Burnti-influenced, and others weren’t as easily discernable while still keeping a decadent look to them. Their conversation sounded pleasant and warm. As soon as they noticed Kimit, the group parted a bit. Some walked into the open doors, while others continued with their greeting customs. A tall human in a dark cape and a yellow tunic with official-looking braidings and pins called out and waved welcomingly. That had to be the ambassador. Rocco Martinez. He looked just like the photos Kimit had studied in preparation. “Garbon Kimit!” Ambassador Martinez strode towards the much shorter Kimit and placed a hand on his chin with a nod. Of course, he would know the customary greetings of each of his guests.

“I’m honored to have you here,” he continued. “I've heard a lot about you from the board of directors at NearStar Tech." "Oh?" Kimit returned the shorter garbon greeting and then reached out for a human handshake. “All good things, I hope?” “Nothing but the best!” Kimit’s entire arm shook a bit from the ambassador’s handshake. He could tell that, had the human wanted to, he could crush every bone in Kimit’s hand with a tight enough squeeze. “Daaaaad!” A voice from beyond the open door called out. “Were you wanting me to start the tour, or should I wait?” Ambassador Marinez looked for the source of the voice. The other guests still mingling outside began filing in. “That would be my oldest. I’ll have to introduce you, I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions about your line of work she’ll want to ask. Loves learning, that one!” The ambassador chuckled and started following the rest of the crowd inside. “You’ve arrived just in time too. We were just about to start a tour of the house if you’d like to join?” What luck! Kimit smiled and followed “I’d love to.”

The Martinez household was, by all means and standards, absolutely lovely. Large windows gave a view of beautiful, lush, outdoor gardens and greeneries. The furniture was well-placed and looked incredibly comfortable. Framed paintings and photos hung tastefully along walls. As the tour commenced, the ambassador would often pause to explain the significance behind a particular piece of art, or point out and name family members in pictures, or the locations the photos were taken in. Kimit had taken tours of large businesses, art museums, and governing offices before, but touring a home like this was definitely a first. That being said, it felt almost like a tour of the aforementioned. There were quiet offices and studies, one with a rather impressive private library, meeting spaces, workshop, and studio space that must have been only recently cleaned as Kimit noticed a canvas atop an easel had paint that had not yet dried. There was a garage that had several cars, speeders, and recreational crafts. The ambassador took special pride in pointing out the tools that were still laid out around one vehicle in particular. It was a hover glider sail hybrid his daughter was in the middle of building from scratch. There was also a home theatre room, bedrooms and guest rooms, and a large, busy kitchen. They didn’t stay in the last room too long, not wanting to get in the way of any of the chefs or servers inside. “I think we have a bit more time, I could show you the patio area at least. We’ll just cut through the trophy room real quick,” The ambassador started herding the group of guests through another grand doorway. “You can see our gardens, they’re absolutely beautiful right now. My wife and sons have quite the ‘green thumb,’ if you’ll pardon the expression. They even grew some of the food we’ll be eating tonight!” Kimit felt a bit excited at that. Gardening was a popular hobby among garbons, often even becoming competitive to some of the more enthusiastic. A human garden would be quite the sight to experience! Following the crowd through what Ambassador Martinez had referred to as “the trophy room,” something caught Kimit’s eye. With a glance, the poor garbon’s heart froze.

Teeth. Teeth and claws. Terrible claws. Long, sharp, deadly claws rose in the air so they could be brought down with ripping force. The creature that owned those claws was broad and tall. The brute strength of its muscles was clear even under the thick, shaggy brown fur. How had such a beast gotten in here? How many had it mauled already? What was one supposed to do when faced with such a monstrous creature?!? 'Do I freeze or do I run?' 'Can it smell me?' 'If I stand really still will it notice me?' 'Wait, why are the walls covered in animal heads?' Apparently, Kimit was not the only one in the group to be thinking along these lines. Several in the group, mostly non-human, stood petrified where they stood. A few of the humans paused, but only looked around, curious at the sight. “I didn’t know you were such a hunter,” one human in the middle of the group commented. Kimit wasn’t sure who said it exactly, but their voice seemed to snap the others out of their terror. The ambassador paused and turned around to his guests behind him. “Oh yes! Not so much anymore with the new job, but we used to go on a few hunting trips ever so often. A few of the antlers up there are mine. Those ducks up there are ones my son Bernie and I got two years ago.”

“And the bear?” The same human asked. “That’s actually one that my wife’s father got years and years ago.” It was only then that Ambassador Martinez finally picked up on the state of many in the group. “Oh, yes, so sorry everyone! I didn’t even think about-,” the color of the ambassador’s face darkened slightly as he stepped into the center of the room so he could better face the entire group. “None of the animals in here are alive, you are all perfectly safe. These are all taxidermied animals that my family has either hunted or had a special connection or interest in.” The humans and a few others in the group nodded. The rest of the group, Kimit included, just stared at the ambassador with a mixture of confusion and unease. “Dad, maybe we should take everyone outside through a different door?” the ambassador’s daughter offered from what had been the front of the group.

“No, it’s fine, we’re already right here. I just didn’t even think about scaring anyone with these guys, just so used to them, I guess,” Ambassador Martinez ran a hand through the fur of the bear creature standing next to him. It was taller than he was, but it didn’t move. It wasn’t alive, Kimit was calming down from the initial scare. “I know this may seem like a strange custom to some of you, but taxidermy is an art form where someone takes an armature and stuffing and mounts the furs we provide them with to make things like these.” Ambassador Martinez gestured to the life-like animal statues and heads around the room. “And is this is,” one of the other guests, a confused-looking donkun, ventured, “some sort of ritual humans do after the… death… of particular animals?” “Um, kind of?” the ambassador’s daughter shook her head and paused, unsure of how to explain. She looked at her father. Her father took over the explanation. “Well, I guess in a way, it could be? It’s not a ritual in the way that everyone does this or has to do this. We don’t always taxidermy what we catch. These were done because they were uncommon or had special memories associated with them. We wanted to remember them, what they looked like, and what the hunt was like, and in a way, it preserves our memories as well as the remains of the animal. “Sometimes people will taxidermy a beloved pet after it dies so that it’s almost like they’re still there with them in a way. Some people will also use taxidermies for museums and educational purposes to better display and study different animals. That’s especially helpful if the animal in question is, say, extinct, or there aren’t many living ones left to study.”

“That makes sense,” Kimit nodded and then paused. There were so many questions to be asked, but one, in particular, felt bothersome. How to ask this without coming off as judgemental or offensive? “But about the ones here, the ones, uh, the ones you and your family hunted?” “Yes?” “What happens to them, uh… I mean, do you… are they just hunted for display?” Ambassador Martinez blinked for a moment like he was digesting the question for a moment before a smile broke across his face. “Oh, no. Everything we hunt we also eat. And then whatever we don’t eat, gets used in other ways, and nothing goes to waste. We're very focused on sustainably around here," he reassured. Well, that was good, Kimit thought and nodded to show understanding. It seemed pretty much everyone else in the tour group also seemed to be a bit more at ease with that information. Still, Kimit took another glance around the room as the crowd shuffled out the door to the gardens, this room was quite unsettling. Especially that big creature. That bear thing.

Okay, yes, humans lived on the same planet with creatures like that, but was another thing altogether that humans went out of their way to cross paths with them! The newly revealed fact that they went a step further and decorated their homes with realistic facsimiles of the beasts… wow. Just wow. What the frewan would they think of next?!

Ambassador Martinez had seemed genuinely flustered that he had in any way troubled his guests by taking them through the taxidermy room. However, part of Kimit had to wonder if it was some sort of intimidation tactic. There were a lot of representatives and business leaders here looking to make whatever deals they could with the ambassador's people. Now, there wasn't a soul in the present group that wasn't made very much aware of exactly who they were dealing with: Humans who not only hunted beasts several times their size and power but then used their pelts to adorn their homes. And yet, the ambassador seemed so friendly and welcoming that those suspicions almost seemed a bit too farfetched. In any case, if this was just the tour of the house, Kimit could only wonder what else was planned for the evening.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

chamomile, chapter one

A/N: the gif in the moodboard is by my love @fightingdragonswithwho

summary: a new liaison is hired at the BAU

warnings: meeting coworkers for the first time, nervousness, hint at an injury 

word count: 1374

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series masterlist - next chapter

Following after the stoic dark-haired man that as of a few minutes ago became your new boss, he stopped in his tracks in front of a lacklustre brown door and opened it. There was already a name on it, something with a lot of J’s… 

Leaning against it, he let you pass into what was now your new office. It wasn’t really anything to rave about. The fact that the only windows in the entire room were faced out into the hallway, almost made it feel like a little cave, a hiding spot, the shutters being drawn just amplified the feeling. The walls were beige and the furniture plain and dark. It was a blank canvas, a fresh start. 

“This is it,” agent Hotchner nodded politely, “and you can of course make it your own however you’d like.” 

“Oh, it’s fine, really,” you moved to brush your left hand over the desk, your lips curled up at the feeling of the smooth, cool surface. Your right hand was still buried deep within your pant pocket, playing lightly with the small round rock that resided in there. It was usually cold to the touch, but your fingers had been glued to it for the last hour, so now it almost radiated heat like a small sun. “Maybe it just needs a little plant or something, a succulent maybe? Something that doesn’t need a lot of care… or light…”

“Oh, and I’ll make sure the nametag on the door is changed by the end of the day,” he gestured and glanced over his shoulder at it.

“Sure, it’s no rush,” you waved your hand in front of you, “I mean, it’s just a sign.”

Biting your lip, you turned around to take in the new space once again. This was gonna be like a second home with the long hours you already knew this job entailed. But it felt good, there was a sense of calm and security when you looked around. It just felt right.

“So, you know where your office is now, you know where mine is,” you turned to look at him, “David Rossi’s office is right next door to mine and the rest of the team, except for our technical analyst, have desks down in the bullpen and the roundtable room is just to the right in there, down in the corner.”

“Alright,” you breathed out, trying your best to absorb the information, “I hope it won’t take too long for me to remember where everything is.”

“It’s okay, I know the building is big, but you’ll get the hang of it in no time.” Gesturing for you to follow him back out of the room, “I think that’s about it,” he extended his hand to you, “welcome to the team agent Y/l/n.” 

Giving it a firm, short shake with your left hand, you smiled “thank you, sir.” Then let go and cast your vision down, avoiding his gaze, “oh,” you noticed, “I think I left my jacket in your office.”

“Well, then you can walk me back,” he started to move, keeping his pace slow so that you could follow along. 

Holding the big glass doors open for you, he called the attention of a couple standing by one of the desks, bickering, “oh, agent Y/l/n, this is SSA Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss.”

“You’re the new liaison?” the man you’d guess was Morgan asked, moving closer and reaching out his right hand to shake yours.

“Yeah,” trying not to think too much about it, you let go of the small stone and reached out your hand, “I am,” giving his hand a quick shake, “I know I have some big fills to shoe, um, I mean big shoes to fill.” Quickly shaking the slight embarrassment off, you blushed and then caught the woman’s hand, “uhm, let me start over, hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Hi Y/n, it’s great to have you join the team,” Prentiss chuckled.

“I’m excited to start!” you retracted your hand and instinctually covered your left palm over your right, giving it a light squeeze and then softly tracing your thumb over the faded scars in a self-soothing manner, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you, really, I’ve heard loads about you both.”

“All good I hope,” Morgan smirked.

Elbowing him in the rib, Prentiss joked, “yeah, HR probably warned her about you.”

“Hey, I have never and will never date a co-worker, always been a rule of mine never to date a woman with a gun. Good thing for me that there are so many without.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Emily turned her attention back to you, “I don’t know about Rossi, but if you hang around for a moment, you might be able to catch Reid once he gets back from his coffee run.”

“Sure, I’d love to meet him, just let me grab my jacket real quick,” you turned and disappeared up the stairs. 

Once you returned, now in possession of your outerwear, Morgan grinned, leaning against his desk, “Y/l/n, you can wait at pretty boy’s desk over there, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Your eyes followed the nod of his head over to see the cluttered desk he was referring to, stacks of old books and post-its littered everywhere, “Oh, okay, sure!”

Carefully sitting down in the chair, you couldn’t help but notice the content of the books. It was like he had one book for each number in the dewy decimal system, no two were the same genre. 

“So, Y/l/n,” Emily looked over the screen that divided the two workspaces, “you’re fresh out of the academy?”

“Do I really look that green?” you sighed.

“Ah, it’s not that bad, trust me. Sorry, not to profile you or anything, it’s just kinda radiating off you, with the way that you keep looking around.”

“I’m guessing it can be hard to turn off?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s fine, might take a bit for me to get used to working with people who are basically mind readers, but it’s fine, I don’t mind it.” Hugging your jacket a bit closer to your body, you cracked a few knuckles on your right hand and came back to her question, “but, yeah, I am pretty new, I guess, but trust me I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t any good. Not having a life outside of school and work occasionally pays off. That and being a kiss ass to all the instructors,” you joked light-heartedly. 

Just then, a man balancing a few to-go coffee cups came through the doors and sauntered over toward you all.

Turning his head, Morgan smiled and stretched his arm out to retrieve one of the beverages, “speaking of no life outside of school and work, pretty boy, come meet Y/l/n, the new liaison.”

Handing a cup off to each of his co-workers, the messy-haired man slowed his stride as he laid his eyes on you. 

Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of him. He wasn’t exactly what you’d expected. Couldn’t be much older than you, but then again, those puppy dog eyes did give him an innocence that made him stand out in this environment. To be completely honest, his sharp features made you think that he had just come back from a photoshoot and not the coffee shop. Okay, focus, you’ve just met this man, you cannot be attracted to your new co-worker.

“Hi, you must be Reid. Oh,” shooting up, you took a step away from the table, “sorry I’m sitting at your desk, they said it was fine. I swear I didn’t touch anything.”

“Um, it’s okay, I…” he stammered, blinking hard for a moment, “I’m doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Y/n Y/l/n, it’s great to meet you,” you inched closer to him, reaching out your left hand.

Looking down at it he licked his lips and gave a polite smile, “uh, hi, welcome,” but didn’t move to grasp your hand. Looking over at Emily to see if you’d done something wrong, her quirked eyebrow made you slowly retract your fingers.

“Don’t take it personally, he’s a germophobe,” she informed.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, “I’ll remember, I promise.”

“It’s fine,” he blinked. 

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[faytelumos]

Lucky, pt2

spicy (mild)

cw: self deprecation

previous

---

Sidekick stayed still, unwilling to move too much for risk of breaking anything. The loveseat was plush and squishy, but they were too anxious to sit back and relax. And they didn't want to presume anything.

They squeezed their hands tighter between their knees when they remembered how they'd pulled on Supervillain's cloak. How they'd pulled and begged Supervillain not to do anything, being dragged into the elevator, completely powerless. Supervillain's eyes had darkened in a way that still made Sidekick shiver hours later, all just because Sidekick had mentioned they didn't like working with Hero.

Stupid. They were always so stupid around Supervillain. They should have kept their mouth shut.

By the time the elevator car had reached the main office again, the doors slamming open with a harsh crash, Sidekick had huddled in the back corner. Supervillain had moved like a force of nature, towering over Hero as desks and dividers rushed in to pin them in place. Sidekick had watched with nauseating guilt as Supervillain grabbed Hero by the coat. As they lifted Hero off of the ground, the furniture scattering like bugs. As they growled, low and menacing like the breath of a leopard.

Supervillain had been a different person to Hero. They were rough, unforgiving, mean. Sidekick hunched their shoulders harder, looking down and gritting their teeth. Part of them…. They hated it. But part of them had liked seeing Hero afraid.

They had to remember they were lucky to work with Hero.

Supervillain stepped into the living room. They had changed into a dark, silky, floor-length robe. Sidekick watched, leaning back so as to be out-of-the-way, as Supervillain padded gracefully to the couch. They held out their hand, and only then did Sidekick notice the two mugs they were holding, both steaming. The one they were offering was white and said, "blood of my enemies" on it. Sidekick hesitated briefly before reaching out and taking it. It was warm, almost hot, and when Supervillain let go of it to allow Sidekick to have it, they lowered the cup to find it had hot chocolate in it. Not blood.

They let out a soft sigh of relief before Supervillain sat down beside them.

Sidekick stayed very still. Supervillain leaned back, propping a leg on their knee, and looked at Sidekick. Sidekick stayed very focused on their drink, but they could feel Supervillain's gaze warmly grazing their hair.

"If you hold the cup to both palms," Supervillain uttered, "it will make you feel better." Their voice was quiet and smooth, and it spawned thoughts of warm cream and a comforter blanket.

They adjusted their grip on the cup to hold it evenly in both hands. The heat did feel nice, and Supervillain shifted beside them. They were close.

"It's a wonder how much hot coco helps the body relax," Supervillain whispered. They took a sip, and Sidekick glanced up in time to see their throat move, to see them lick the coco off of their lips, dark eyes on the cup. "I think it's the warmth."

That molten gaze snapped onto Sidekick, deep and mesmerizing under thick, dark lashes. Sidekick was suddenly very aware of their own body, the way their upper back ached from being hunched forward, the hairs caught on their lashes, the trembling in their hands, the dryness of their mouth, the pounding of their heart. Supervillain didn't let up, didn't let go, watching Sidekick evenly for the longest moment. Sidekick wished they could hear Supervillain breathing over the noise in their ears. Then Supervillain blinked and looked down to their own mug. They took a dainty sip as if nothing at all had happened.

Sidekick let go of a sigh they had been holding onto. They looked down to their cup. Supervillain moved out of the corner of their eye, and they stayed perfectly still. Soft, rounded nails caressed the skin beside Sidekick's eye, freeing the hair stuck to their lashes and trailing over their temple before tucking it behind their ear. They let their eyes slide closed, the sensation calming the trembles in their fingers.

"I'm not going to eat you," Supervillain whispered tenderly. Sidekick started to nod, but stopped when gentle nails grazed their hairline, over their scalp, into their hair. It sent tingles all the way down their back, and they shivered for it. Supervillain huffed, and Sidekick flinched and looked up to them, causing Supervillain to pull their hand back like they'd scared a horse.

But Supervillain's look was… sweet. Fond.

L… loving.

Sidekick's throat ached. They looked down at their hot chocolate, then at the coffee table. They set the mug down on a coaster just before their vision got too blurry.

Please, they did not want to be crying again….

"Oh, darling," Supervillain whispered, setting their own mug down. Sidekick frantically wiped their tears, but Supervillain was already sliding a warm hand over their cheek. They thumbed away tears, moving closer to Sidekick, and they held both sides of Sidekick's face and gently lifted their gaze.

Sidekick sniffed, one hand hesitantly resting on Supervillain's. It was very quiet in the room. Sidekick would have been distracted by the sound of their own breathing if Supervillain's eyes weren't so pretty. Almost black. With little strings of dark brown.

"Are you okay, precious?" Supervillain breathed. Sidekick swallowed dryly, sore around the fading lump in their throat. They nodded carefully, resting their hand on Supervillain's. It felt selfish to touch them like this, but they wanted it so badly. Supervillain was close, and Sidekick couldn't help the glance to their lips; thin, soft-looking, parted ever so. Supervillain brushed a thumb over their cheekbone and Sidekick looked again to their eyes. Supervillain pet their cheek again, searching their gaze. Sidekick felt their face warming in a blush, and wishing it would stop only made it worse. They swallowed again, forcing their breathing to be slow. But when Supervillain's eyes slid to Sidekick's lips, they lost that fight.

Sidekick was shaking again, a fine tremble that seemed to buzz in their limbs. Supervillain's hands were soft and warm, surrounding Sidekick's face. But they wanted more — it was so selfish, but they wanted to be surrounded by Supervillain's arms, too. They wanted to be close, swimming in Supervillain's warmth, in their touch — they wanted to drown in it.

Supervillain's lips parted further, and they withdrew a hand to caress the backs of their long fingers over Sidekick's jaw. Sidekick was painfully aware of their own breathing as Supervillain inhaled to speak.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Sidekick flinched, they huffed, they may have even made a tiny whimper. Everything about them was suddenly overwhelmingly loud, and they licked their lips and nodded as they closed their eyes to block it out.

"Are you sure?" Supervillain breathed. Sidekick nodded again.

"Yes," they whispered, and in that moment they didn't care how whiny it sounded. Supervillain moved, and Sidekick felt a warm breath on their lips, and suddenly the room was deadly silent.

Supervillain held their face delicately, their breath warm on Sidekick's face. Sidekick opened their mouth slightly, inviting, listening to the soft swish of Supervillain's robe. Sidekick inhaled quietly when soft lips closed around theirs, a fragile kiss on their top lip. Supervillain was slow, and they supped a little before pulling back.

Sidekick held Supervillain's hand just a little tighter. It was selfish, they knew it was self-centered and greedy, but that couldn't be it, please, that couldn't be all —

Supervillain tipped Sidekick's head up just slightly, fingers caressing under their jaw, the couch whispering as Supervillain shifted their weight and closed their lips across Sidekick's.

Warm, soft, careful. Sidekick kissed back cautiously, trying not to ask for too much. Supervillain moved, their lips going away, and Sidekick whimpered. Supervillain slid a hand into Sidekick's hair, around their neck, leaning in and kissing earnestly.

Sidekick held Supervillain's hands, panting, trembling. Supervillain was so gentle and tender, even when Sidekick whined, even when they pushed a little into Supervillain and chased their lips. Sidekick's skin tingled, and it only got more intense when Supervillain let out an aborted moan. Sidekick felt like there was electricity in their blood, and they gasped and leaned in harder.

Supervillain held Sidekick and pulled away just enough. Sidekick was panting, and it took them a moment to realize Supervillain was out of breath, too. The realization drew another sound from their throat.

"You're beautiful," Supervillain panted. Sidekick blushed. It wasn't true. "You deserve the world," Supervillain went on, their voice lower now, raspy. Sidekick shivered. Supervillain leaned slightly in, and Sidekick just wanted another kiss, just wanted to get lost again, but Supervillain held them back. When they spoke again, their voice was dark, determined — the low growl of a hunting panther. "And I'm going to give you everything."

---

Thank you @those-damn-snippets for your kind comment! >///<

I hope you like this, I kind of ended up writing it for me. @_@