#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…

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Professor!Terrence x Aaliyah

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student.

Part Two

The calming effects of the incense burning within his Acadian–style home in Baton Raq. Lauryn Hill playing from a vinyl record was enough to ease his mind after grading over thirty midterm papers. Terry shut his laptop and released a soft sigh. He reached up with his long fingers, taking off his glasses. The burning at the corners of his blue-grey eyes caused him to rub. He was exhausted and in need of a long vacation somewhere tropical after this semester ended.

He pushed away from his elegant, black oak wood desk to stand, stretching his long legs and flexing his quads. Terry wore a boxy–fit graphic T-shirt with a photo of Nina Simone printed on the front and thigh–hugging drawstring, black shorts. His feet covered in long, black Adidas socks led him towards the door to his home office. He would have stepped on the tail of his British Brown Shorthair cat if he hadn’t spotted him creeping between his legs as he walked.

“Orion, watch out…”

The cat slowly moved away, staring up at Terry with its golden eyes.

His stomach grumbled. Terry remembered that he’d had leftover red beans and rice. He walked into his spacious kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab a soup bowl and then he strolled over to his silverware drawer, grabbing a large spoon. Ex–Factor faded in the background while he scooped the last of the food into his bowl. He paused, snapping his fingers in remembrance of the honey butter cornbread he’d made to eat with it.

After warming his food, Terry didn’t bother sitting in his dining room. He leaned over the counter and tucked into his food, appreciative sounds between bites mixed with his spoon scraping the side of the bowl the only noise. His tongue slipped out to catch a few crumbs from his lips after scarfing down the last of his cornbread. Terry shook his head and rubbed his belly as he cleared his mess.

“Damn good,” He muttered while walking towards his sink.

He accepted the burn of his muscles from his morning workout while crouching down to grab some surface disinfectant from beneath his sink. That let him know he went hard in the gym. His tongue smoothed over his teeth to get rid of food while he used a Bounty paper towel to clean. His eyes flicked to the window in his kitchen when he’d heard loud voices passing by his home.

The Apple Watch on his wrist with a stainless steel band alerted Terry to a phone call. He headed back to his office and reached over his desk to grab it from the charger.

“Wassam Bitch!”

Terry released a boisterous, deep laugh. All his teeth showing.

“Cousin! You good?” Terry replied.

“Chillin’ fam. Just left Unc house…”

“He straight?”

“You know how he do. Was in the garden wit’ his woman picking tomatoes and shit. I had to break it to ‘em that he ain’t invited tonight. HE CAN’T COME!”

“Mike, don’t do Unc like that…he wanna be there to support his son.”

“No old heads, TJ. We discussed this. I don’t want him getting a heart attack seeing all that buku ass clapping.”

Terry snickered with his phone to his ear as he made his way into his living room. He wanted to break in his new furniture.

“Layla snoopin’ ‘round the house. She heard about the strippers…”

“Thought you said she was cool about it?”

“She is. But ya know…”

Terry made a face on the other end of the line. He knew how his cousin could get. Tonight is indeed about fun, but if Mike messed up, Layla wouldn’t take him back a second time. Out of all the men attending, Terry is the most levelheaded. Majority of the men in his family and Mike’s friends were a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. He already knows how tonight is gonna turn out.

“No fuckin’ up, Cousin.” Terry stated.

“Already, Marine.” Mike joked.

——

She did a slow two–step with a roll of her hips in a sinuous manner to the late, great Aaliyah – she was honored to share her name – and Tank.

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (I just wanna)

Come over (Be with you, baby)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (Just wanna)

Yeah (Be with you, baby)…

Bonnet on her head, a tank top that’s way too cropped and showing off under–boob with skimpy hot pink boy shorts covered her curvy frame. Aaliyah had just finished making her bed, freshly laundered sheets feeling cozy beneath her hands as she spread out the wrinkles. The next song on her Slow Jamz playlist was Ciara–Promise. Aaliyah tapped the side of her mouth in thought while staring at the neatly stacked money on her side table. She didn’t feel like digging for her mini safe tucked in the back of her closet, but she needed to put the money somewhere safe.

She made almost three grand. Aaliyah really enjoyed herself a week ago at the Fire Station. She craved that attention and excitement. Doing content from home was great, but to show out in person? Oh…it stroked her so good. She was so damn ecstatic that she came home and rubbed one out with her fingers deep in her pussy. Making a man react the way he does to her literal being just ignited something in her.

Aaliyah placed the money in her safe and organized her closet. After that, she grabbed herself a bowl of green grapes and crawled into bed. She popped a grape into her mouth while watching re–runs of P–Valley on mute, eyes reading the subtitles. She already knew what was going on, just something to distract her. She rocked her body in bed to Donell Jones–This Luv, lip syncing and snapping her fingers.

She wondered what Professor Richmond was up to…

Aaliyah kissed her teeth at her lingering thoughts. This week was filled with tension. She walked into that classroom on Wednesday, hauling her school bag and a pep in her step. She dressed in skater jeans and a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt with a gray hoodie unzipped.

“Today class, we’ll discuss morality…”

He had a tiny sculpture of Aristotle in his hand, long, manicured fingers grasping it firm. Today, he wore a perfectly fitting, short sleeve, mock neck black shirt with charcoal grey slacks and black loafers. The glasses on his face reflected the light perfectly whenever he moved his head. It was something about his eyes today that just…drew Aaliyah in. They seemed brighter.

She propped her elbow on her desk and rested her chin in her hand. That foot started to bounce beneath her desk, and when his eyes met hers, she had to turn away to simmer down the butterflies. Something embarrassing happened in the middle of his lecture. She forgot to turn her ringer off, the lyrics to P*$$Y Fairy playing.

Don't be surprised, baby, it's just me (Just me)

Don't be surprised, boy, when I bust it wide

I hypnotize you with this pussy (Pussy)

Now you feel like you can fly—

“Sorry! Sorry…”

Aaliyah silenced her phone and with a sheepish smile she allowed her eyes to roam the class, catching on to a few snickers. She felt heat creeping over her honey skin. Aaliyah bashfully tucked hair behind her ear, and then her sultry gaze connected with Professor Richmond’s.

He had one brow quirked up and his eyes were unblinking and concentrated on her firm. He was the first to slowly pull his eyes away before clearing his throat to finish speaking. That look in his eyes…

After class, Aaliyah approached his desk to drop off an in class assignment. She left her hoodie at her desk. Terry was standing there, propping himself up against his desk with his fingertips. He allowed his eyes to scan her body. She paid attention to the way his piercing eyes fixated on the exposed skin of her midriff. A quick circular motion of his eyes on her breasts caused her to part her lips, the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

“Here?” Aaliyah pointed to the pile of untidy papers.

“Yes.” Terry replied with a slower tone.

She slipped it there, patting the top of it. Terry clenched his jaw, his eyes returning to his laptop.

“Have a good day…”

He couldn’t stop himself from standing at his full height. He exhaled a long breath, his eyes trapping her.

“Yes, Ma’am. You as well.”

Aaliyah gave him one final once over, her eyes doing a double take to the veins in his arms…

Damn…

She walked away, the silence in the lecture hall unnerving. Terry crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back and forth on his heels. He lowered his head and shook it from side to side with a smirk. Aaliyah made her way out of the room, itching to look back and wave, but instead she looked back and gave him one final word.

“Sorry about my ringtone…I know it was inappropriate…”

Terry licked his lips, “Don’t even remember the lyrics.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah finally leaving the class.

——

Stickin' to the code, all these hoes for the streets

I put it in her nose, it's gon' make her pussy leak

Pussy niggas told, ain't gon' wake up out they sleep

You can't hear that switch, but you can hear them niggas scream…

That imposing beat had the house jumping off. Like That lyrics bounced off the walls, hyping up the room full of men that came out to support Mike.

Got your girl in this bitch, she twirlin' on the dick (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

(He was once a thug, he was, he -)

I got syrup in this bitch, turn up in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

And it's 'bout the 'Ercs in this bitch, get murked in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)…

Terry wore an oversized tank top in beige with the sides cut low, giving you a peek at the muscles in his biceps and obliques. He gave himself a fresh line up and moisturized his low curls. Straight fit, light wash jeans hugged his lower half and he wore a pair of crisp, All White’s. Terry bopped his head precisely to the heavy bass, green solo cup in his hand between his lips. The gold Cuban link hanging from his neck matched the gold Cuban chain on his left wrist and the gold band of his Apple Watch on his right wrist.

The front door opened, more handsome black men pouring in and greeting everyone. Terry saluted the ones he recognized and shook hands firmly with those he didn’t. Terry knew the lyrics to Kendrick’s verse word for word. When the ‘Big Three’ line came up, everyone chimed in. Smile on his face, Terry headed towards the kitchen to fill his cup and mingle with some family he hadn’t seen in a while. He couldn’t believe his little cousins were old enough now to attend functions like this.

“This nigga freaked out already!”

One of Terry’s little cousins, Malik, who just turned 21 sucked his teeth at everyone laughing. Terry did notice the way he kept checking the door for the strippers every time it opened.

“They ain’t here yet, nigga!”

Mike entered the kitchen with enthusiasm and shades on. Terry caught the smell of weed on him when he approached his side. Terry picked up his trucker hat to clear some space from the kitchen island for more liquor bottles. A big ass bottle of Hennessy caught Terry’s eye. He was currently sipping on jungle juice.

“Got that shit that turn you into a beast, TJ. Real King Kong shit!” Mike shouted over the loud music.

“I see you came through,” Terry held the neck of the Hennessy bottle firm, veins in his arms popping out.

“We about to see TJ in rare form tonight!”

Terry shook his head at the men surrounding him all agreeing. He refused to let it get to him. He wasn’t the same tall, lanky kid from Red Stick. Wasn’t the same teenager who got picked on in the schoolyard for being too quiet or too nerdy. He was a grown ass man with intellect and vocabulary beyond the slang words and a muscle strength so powerful he could take down an entire room full of wannabe gangstas. But, he didn’t wear that on his sleeve. He remained stoic with his strong and silent presence. Tonight, however, he’d let himself enjoy what was to come. He had his money ready. He just hoped they were deserving of it.

He was a hard man to impress.

“Make yourself a stronger drink, Cousin. We got all night….”

Terry was more of a bourbon guy. But there wasn’t any around and he refused to bring his good shit for everybody to help themselves to. He poured Hennessy into his cup and took a sip. It was cool.

He sauntered towards the spread of party food they had catered. The smells made his mouth water. He grabbed himself a plate and piled fried chicken, smoked turkey greens, gator bites, mac and cheese, and whatever else he could fit. Today was his cheat day.

Terry ate his food while standing, catching bits and pieces of conversation here and there. On one end of the room, a group of men, most likely Mike’s friends, were laughing at whatever was on one of their phones. Across from him in the kitchen, there’s a debate about which they’d prefer: no ass and big titties or a big ass and no titties. Terry snorted. Childish behavior.

Tha Biz-, the Bizness

Uh, I like a long-haired, thick redbone

Open up her legs, then filet mignon that pussy

I'ma get in and on that pussy

If she let me in, I'ma own that pussy…

Terry didn’t care much for the mac and cheese. Too dry and not enough flavor. Every thing else was delicious. He tossed his plate and excused himself to the bathroom. He climbed the stairs to the guest bathroom instead of the basement because he was informed that the basement was reserved for the ladies who plan to entertain them tonight.

He relieved himself and flushed before washing his hands. He checked himself in the mirror making sure he hadn’t stained his new shirt.

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Terry could overhear the commotion downstairs.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…”

That sounded like Mike’s best man and bestfriend, Cliff.

“Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Terry left the bathroom and walked down the stairs at the same moment they closed the basement door behind them. His eyes that appeared blue–green in the dim light scanned the room, taking in the eager and impatient looks on the faces of men ready to throw cash.

“Fuck you mean they gotta get ready? Type of shit is this here?” One dude complained.

“They work at Crazy Horse, Bruda, you know how them dancers are.”

“Busted and dusted,” Another replied with a drunk cackle.

Terry held up the wall, cup in hand, tripping off of the conversation.

“Kiesha thick ass can get this anytime, anywhere…but that one that walked in last? Man…”

The man that spoke, short in height with a bald fade and teeth lined with gold caught Terry’s eyes and shook his head as he blew air out his cheeks. Terry smirked into his cup.

“She the truth. I wanna see what she do…”

“She one a ‘dem pretty natural ones…rare.”

That interested Terry. He paid closer attention.

“Probably taste like sugar.”

“Im’a put my tongue in it!”

Cliff cracked the door to the basement. He stuck his head between the opening and shouted down the steps. Terry could hear him communicating with one of the dancers. He shut the door quickly and motioned for his friend to pause the music.

“I’m a grab Mike. It’s about to go down.”

He did the Birdman hand rub as he rushed away to collect the groom. The room started to flood with the others, all too anxious to get a glimpse and participate in the fun. Terry pat his back pocket, feeling the folded stack of cash he’d brought. He had more tucked away in his wallet just in case. Mike entered the room cross–faded. He moved with unsteady legs and a bottle in hand, the contents almost spilling onto the carpet.

Terry grabbed the bottle and sat it down on a table.

“AIGHT! ITS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF YA’LL READY?!!!”

Someone activated the strobe lights and the room flooded with ultraviolet light. The melanin in the room looked a deep blue beneath the black lights. Terry knocked the rest of his drink back and sat his cup down next to the Hennessy bottle Mike was holding. From the corner of his eye, he could see someone carrying a chair out from the dining room. They forced Mike to sit, Terry laughing at his cousin’s goofy smile.

Ear Drummers

Strippers

Mike WiLL Made-It

Bands a make her dance

Bands a make her dance…

The door opened and Terry locked his eyes forward, cupping his mouth and howling along with the others.

——

Aaliyah couldn’t control her indecisive habits if she tried. She’d spent majority of her day into the early afternoon cleaning and now her room looked like a disaster. It was nearing eight and she still couldn’t decide what to wear! Keisha was gonna kill her ass…

Aaliyah flipped through her clear tote filled with old outfits from her stripper days. She was about to give up and settle for a neon green fishnet set until she spotted a bright pink holster top with matching bottoms. There were hot pink fishnets with the back cut out for her ass that she could pair with it. Oh! pink pasties over the nipples would spice it up real nice. Aaliyah remembered her seven inch stiletto heels with rhinestone fringes. Perfect. She quickly grabbed it and worked as fast as she could, glancing at her phone.

So far, Keisha hadn’t called her. Aaliyah slipped off her satin, black robe and flung it over the chair situated in front of her vanity. She already applied her body oil with the aroma of fresh peaches blended perfectly with a hint of the tropics creating this rich, sweet, sultry scent. Her favorite fairy dust body powder clung to her soft skin and glittered in the light like diamonds.

Aaliyah tied the last tight bow on her bottoms before sitting to slip on her heels. She decided to go with a light beat, not wanted to wear anything too heavy and end up sweating it all off. She tapped the screen of her phone and with twenty minutes left, she swooped her edges and sprayed oil sheen over her two, long braids. Her French tip fingers smoothed down as much frizz as she could to keep it neat.

Situated in front of her body length mirror, Aaliyah admired the final look. Lastly, she tugged on a white, bodycon dress with a sway of her hips.

Buzz Buzz…Buzz Buzz…

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Diamond and Precious is in the back. You ready?”

“Yeah,” Aaliyah grabbed a pair of black, thong flip flops, “heading out now.”

She ended the call and with one final sweep of her room, she turned off the lights and headed straight for the door. Stanley cup in the crease of her arm, she locked her front door. Aaliyah angled her body, descending the stairs carefully. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened a year ago. She sprained her ankle so bad she couldn’t dance for two months.

Kiesha rolled the window down to her Hellcat, smoke billowing out. Aaliyah rolled her eyes. She did not want weed smell lingering on her. Keisha leaned over and opened the door since Aaliyah’s hands were full. She climbed in and shut the door, Keisha not waiting a moment longer before hitting the gas hard. Aaliyah looked over at Keisha with a mug on her face while her friend laughed.

She noticed that she was the only one ready. Aaliyah looked back at Diamond and Precious. Redbone Diamond had her bubble gum pink frontal pinned up while holding a Hello Kitty compact mirror as steady as she could, drawing on her thin eyebrows. She had on a matching camouflage, short set. Aaliyah recognized that set from Fashion Nova. Her eyes moved towards Precious. Precious was a tiny girl. Petite and spunky. She had a buz cut dyed blonde. She was wearing her outfit beneath a tube dress while puffing on a fat blunt. Her eyes squinted at Aaliyah before giving her a toothy grin filled with braces.

“How ya’ll been?” Aaliyah asked.

“Good!” Diamond replied.

“Straight! How ‘bout you?” Precious said.

“Been good. Dealing wit’ school. Good to see ya’ll. Ready for tonight?”

“Can’t wait!”

“Turnt!” Diamond shouted before snapping her mirror shut, “Pass that here…”

Aaliyah relaxed into her seat.

“Girl, you told me to be ready by eight. Why the fuck you ain’t dressed?”

Keisha reached back, accepting the blunt while one–hand whipping the car.

“Cliffy told me we could use the basement if we needed to. I brought all the goods just in case. The coochie spray for Diamond—”

“BITCH don’t get hurt!”

Aaliyah chuckled.

“You got your LED plug?” Keisha asked Aaliyah excitedly.

Aaliyah dragged her upper teeth over her bottom lip with a mischievous smile.

“Nasty bitch….lemme see it.”

Aaliyah leaned her body against the door so her meaty buns could face Keisha. She lifted her white bodycon dress over her cakes and with one hand, she spread one hefty cheek. There, buried in her ass, was the LED plug. It lit up like a pair of sketchers. Keisha giggled.

“Girrrrrlllllllllll I told Cliff about you…”

Aaliyah fixed herself and straightened up in her seat.

“Keisha, don’t set me up with no nigga. No more of that shit.” Aaliyah retorted.

“I didn’t set you up. He remembers you from Crazy Horse. When he used to show up on Tuesdays…”

“Keish, not that nigga…he ugly and his breath stank. You know exactly what to do to piss me off!”

Diamond and Precious cackled in the back seat.

“His dick big.” Keisha replied as if that would change Aaliyah’s mind.

“Bitch, big dick, little dick, a dick made out of the purest gold if phat ma don’t get wet and this heart don’t skip a beat I’m not finna give you my time. That shit is crazy…”

“You shake ass for an ugly nigga though.” Keisha argued back.

“THEY PAYIN’ ME! Girl…” Aaliyah kissed her teeth, fixing her lash extensions because the windows are rolled down, “How far out?”

“Ten minutes.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way while blasting a bounce mix. Keisha’s Hellcat slowed to a stop in front of a cute little house with a lengthy drive way. Kiesha parked on the grass and killed the ignition. She gave the blunt one final hit before tossing it out the window. The ladies exited the car and before the went inside, Keisha had an idea for them to take some pics and video before heading in. Aaliyah acted as photographer and videographer while Diamond, Precious and Keisha did their thing.

When they finished, Keisha begged Aaliyah to do a video. Aaliyah scoped out the area and yanked her dress off, darting to stand next to a white SUV parked haphazardly on the front lawn. Keisha moved her phone in different angles, Aaliyah staring back at her with a hand on the car and her ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Damn, mama…show out!”

Diamond and Precious clapped their hands in time to Aaliyah’s twerking.

“Cool it nah,” Aaliyah shooed them off before putting her dress back on, “You see that?”

The other ladies followed her gaze through the windows of the home. They all gawked at the amount of men throughout that house.

“Dayummmmm…we leaving chubby tonight. Money, money, money!” Diamond said.

This was Aaliyah’s vibe. Although she had a ball at the fire station, nothing compared to a room full of black men. She grinned beautifully and squealed. They grabbed their things and Aaliyah was last to trail behind because she forgot her thong flip flops. Keisha knocked on the door boldly and it opened two seconds later.

It was Cliff.

He hugged Keisha and kissed her cheek. Cliff did the same greeting for Diamond and Precious. However. He held his hand out for Aaliyah. Her sultry eyes flicked to Keisha then back at Cliff. She accepted his hand and he guided her inside softly, his eyes scanning her body.

“Liyah Alllure…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

“Hey you,” Aaliyah titled her head in greeting with a sweet smile.

“Still just as gorgeous…happy you could join us tonight.”

“Happy to be here…”

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Some dude with a skinny frame and a gold grill greeted them. They all said hello, ignoring the men in the room eye–fucking them. Aaliyah could suffocate from their stares alone.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Aaliyah remained close behind Precious as they disappeared into the basement. The door shut behind her with a soft click. They entered the finished basement and Aaliyah excused herself to the rest room. She’d been drinking water all day and needed to go before doing a bunch of dancing. Keisha got dressed while Precious and Diamond helped each other out on jewelry. Aaliyah exited the bathroom in just her pink, outfit with rhinestones to match her heels.

“How we goin’ in? One by one or?” Diamond questioned.

She was dressed in neon green. A full body fishnet outfit with black stilettos. Aaliyah was happy she decided on the ensemble she had on.

“One by one. I’m supposed to give the lap dance. After that, ya’ll come out. Simple.” Keisha said.

The intro to Bandz A Make Her Dance started playing.

“That’s me!” Keisha stood up. She was wearing a white cowgirl hat with a fringe bikini set to match and white stilettos. She reminded Aaliyah of Megan The Stallion with her blue hair cascading down her back.

Keisha climbed the stairs and when the door opened, howling and yelling pierced her ears. The other three ladies shared a look with each other and laughed.

“I’m a need some liquor.” Aaliyah said.

——

Terry’s bottom lip sat between his teeth to contain his laughter.

When the first girl entered, going by the name of Keisha, he loved her vibrant personality and spit fire attitude. Keisha had the men in that room foaming at the mouth. She sashayed over to Mike with that brazen attitude and revealing body. Ain’t no way in hell she could fit that white bikini set and that was the point. Terry’s brows rose in surprise at Keisha straddling Mike. Her bountiful curves almost swallowed him while he was in that chair. Big ol’ ass and fat titties. That country thick you got lost in.

Terry grunted when she turned and made that big, fucking ass clap in Mike’s face. His thick brows knitted together and he shared a look with a friend before chuckling. Mike didn’t know what do to. He kept his hands to his sides, grasping the back legs of the chair he was stuck in.

“All that ass, Mike!”

“You better get it in while you can!”

“Suffocate that nigga, Keisha!”

“You good down there groom?” Keisha teased.

Money flew in the air when she plucked her top off. When them titties dropped, Terry’s large hand stuffed into his back pocket. He didn’t make it rain yet, he was waiting for Keisha to do something special. The body was crazy, but where’s the tricks?

“Throw that shit, TJ.” His friend nudged him with his elbow.

Terry ignored him.

Keisha stood up and went down to the floor in front of Mike in a split. She made those twin globes dribble and that was good enough to earn some of his cash. Terry leaned over the back of Mike’s chair and flicked two Benjamin’s on her. He watched it connect with that ass before falling to the floor. Keisha arched forward and spread her cheeks before going into a head stand.

She shook her legs and clicked her heels before dropping into another split.

“THERE YOU GO!”

“Baby going stupid…”

“Buku ass…”

Terry remained close. Keisha’s eyes locked onto him and it was enough to bring her to her feet. Terry held her steady gaze, a smirk teasing his thick lips.

“You a pretty nigga, ain’t you?” Keisha walked up on him with her hands on her hips, “What’s your name?!”

“TJ.” Terry replied.

Keisha pushed her breasts up with her fists in his face.

“Like what you see with those green eyes. A pretty boi like you ain’t used to a woman like me, huh?”

Terry’s tongue grazed his bottom lip and he locked on to the dizzying motion of her fat tits. Bringing his eyes back on her, he displayed a bill and sat it in the crease. Keisha leaned forward and grabbed the money with her teeth.

“Keep impressin’ me and there’s more for you…”

Keisha had to blink out of a trance. Terry had this unspoken power that rendered her speechless. To top it all off, that deep baritone shot straight to her clit.

“Come get this money, baby!”

Keisha pulled herself away from Terry, but not before dragging a hand down his chest. The look in her hazel eyes told him she wanted to do more than give him a lap dance.

She wanted to spin on that dick.

The door pushed open and the next girl to enter had pink hair. She was a cutie.

“I’m Diamond…”

When she turned, Terry looked away.

A BBL. A bad one at that.

He folded his money back up and made his way to where he stood earlier. The other men in the room were probably so used to seeing it that it didn’t even phase them. Terry watched Diamond do her thing. She hit the splits, shook that ass as best she could, but it was boring. Terry filled his cup and just vibed, laughing at the way some of the men in the room went bonkers over her. Even Mike was stuck. Mouth wide and eyes equally wide.

Next came a tiny girl that showed off acrobatic skills and flexibility. Terry had his money out again and he made it rain on her. She made that little booty shake. Keisha was making her way around, grinding and talking shit. Diamond allowed some of the men to grab ass. The three women scoped out Terry and winked at him. He played nice with Diamond and slipped her a crisp bill. With the tiny one named Precious, he tipped more.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

Cliff scanned the room. Another girl?

“There’s more?! Ahhh shit…”

——

Aaliyah watched from the bottom of the stairs as Precious made her entrance. She wrung her hands and exhaled a sigh. She didn’t know what to expect past those doors. Aaliyah applied more gloss and with a shaky hand, she grasped the railing and climbed. They kept the light off to avoid being spotted right away. Aaliyah stared through the crack of the door at Precious working the room.

So many…so many men.

The floor was covered with money.

She allowed her eyes to scan, taking everything in. As her eyes swept past the groom in his chair, she couldn’t see the entire room because of the door, but the sound of Cliff’s voice let her know it was time.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

“Put on her old intro!”

That was Keisha’s voice.

Aaliyah felt her nerves settle. The blacklights and the song reminded her of Crazy Horse. This was her walk out song….

Waka Flocka Ft. Roscoe Dash–No Handz Instrumental.

With one hand Aaliyah pushed open that door and stepped one shaky leg out past the darkness. The ultraviolet light caused her skin to twinkle and the blue hue made the pink she wore pop. She fully came into view, her tongue curled up over her top teeth to tease and those ‘come fuck me eyes’ staring into the faces of horny men with the money she wanted.

She allowed her body to rock to the beat. Aaliyah turned her back on everyone, brought her hands up, and gave them a thunderous applause with that beautiful ass before arching her back. She twerked those honey buns and looked back at it before a lusty smile appeared on her lips. Both hands twirled her braids while she rocked those hips.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce

*clap clap clap*

Nobody wasted time throwing money. She could work that entire room on her own. Aaliyah got down on her hands and knees, crawling like a jungle cat before turning to show off that LED plug while twerking.

“You see that shit?!”

“Hot damn!”

“Fuck, she’s nice.”

“C’mere pretty lady…”

“Freaky girl!”

That song…she owned it.

She staked her claim on it.

She spread those legs on her back and gyrated, thighs separated and the barely there crotch of her pink bikini covering her meaty pussy lips. She rubbed the money that rained down on her into her pussy and around her breasts. They…were…obsessed.

The way she looked at you, it made you feel like the only man in the world worthy of her attention.

How nasty she talked…

“I better see some thick bulges tonight, boys…”

On her feet, Aaliyah strutted dangerously slow, further into the crowd of men. As her eyes swept, she came across a pair of blue eyes that reminded her of a bottle of Hypnotiq beneath the blacklights. Too familiar…

Holy FUCKING shit…

She tried to mask her surprise but his was so boldly present.

The Professor.

His jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through his veins leaving him momentarily stunned. To others, it could seem as if Terry was so overwhelmed with how motherfucking fine Aaliyah is that he couldn’t even function. She knew the real reason. She simmered down her astonishment as best as she could and turning away, focusing on a cute guy with thick locs to his shoulders.

Her heart raced. Panic consumed her.

She had no time to panic.

“Prettiest thang in Louisiana…”

Aaliyah cupped her breasts covered in nipple tape and licked her lips. She could feel Terry’s gaze burning a hole into the side of her face. She was nervous. Oh so nervous. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Everybody was too drunk or too hype to take notice.

all except Professor Richmond. He could see right through her.

What the fuck was he doing here of all places?!

She blended in with her girls and tried her best to shield herself from Terry’s view.

That intensity in his eyes this time around left her shaken up.

Aaliyah pushed herself to perform. The space was too cramped. They scattered to watch her hit a clean split and when she glanced over her shoulder, Terry was right there. Like he appeared out of thin air.

He was standing above her. Towering over her. She had no choice but to look up.

Aaliyah couldn’t hide. She couldn’t if she tried.

“Back up, TJ. I’m tryna see all that…”

He was shoved to the side and Aaliyah felt the rain of money on her while she avoided Terry’s hard eyes zeroed in on her ass. He was so stuck.

Her breath hitched at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to ravage her.

Her eyes glided down his frame and she loved the way he dressed. He looked delectable.

“Arch that back, bitch…”

“Yeahhhh…”

Aaliyah grabbed her ankles and made each cheek dance on its own. The heavy bass and quick melody of the bounce song compelled her to shake some ass.

The sound of her pulse in her ears drowned out the music. She locked eyes with him again and for once she grew timid. His eyes drank her in and when she lifted one leg up to pop that ass he chewed on that lip and tilted his head to see how that pussy looked from that angle.

You like what you see, huh?

“You got skills baby…Think you can show me more?”

Terry cut his eyes at the men circling Aaliyah.

Things were turning up like a raging storm.

“Pull that pussy part…”

They wanted to see her pussy. Aaliyah giggled and trailed a finger between her legs before rubbing it against one of their noses. They enjoyed that way too much. He tried to suck on that finger but Terry yoked him up by the wrist. The dread head looked at Terry like he was asking for a death wish.

“We don’t touch unless they say so…remember the rules.”

“Let go, nigga. I don’t need you tellin’ me what the fuck to do…”

“Woah, woah, woah…”

Aaliyah used that opportunity to disappear. A prickling sensation shot up her spine. She slipped down into the basement and hid herself within the darkness.

She needed a second.

“Get it together, Liyah…”

Aaliyah picked up a shorty bottle of Paul Masson Peach and took a long swig. She recapped the drink and scrunched her face from the burn. Aaliyah shook out her hands to stop them from trembling. How was she going to show her face in class on Wednesday?

All she would be able to think about was the shock on his face. There was no turning back. Aaliyah drank some more. She needed the liquor to get her through the rest of the night. The door to the basement opened and Keisha appeared. She had a look of concern on her face.

“Li–Li. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Keisha. Go back up. I was just feeling a little queasy that’s all.”

“Some shit was about to pop off. Did they touch you without your consent?”

“It’s cool. I’ll be up…”

“Don’t lie to me Li–Li…”

Aaliyah gave Keisha a reassuring smile.

“No reason to lie, mamas. I’m feeling better,” Aaliyah pushed herself up, “C’mon…”

——

Frozen.

When that door pushed open and she crept out like a sex goddess, he almost spilled his cognac.

Aaliyah?

The small hairs across his arms stood on end. Desire rushed in the moment the initial shock faded.

*clap clap clap*

Gahdamn…

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

That body outta be in a museum. This fine ass woman held a confidence so powerful he could bend at her will.

Terry Richmond sucked in a breath when her eyes connected with his.

He saw the power drain from her like Superman to Kryptonite. Terry’s chest grew tight. She drew in closer, his mouth unhinged. The glitter on her skin and the smell of her sweet fragrance made the big boy between his legs react.

Down boy…

He fought the urge to palm his bulge because it was growing out of his control. He didn’t know where to look first. Those titties sat up round and perfect. That ass was so fat he wanted to sink his teeth in it. Leave his imprint on that thick fucking shit. His eyes still lit up like Miracle on 34th Street from the glow emitting from that asshole.

Freak nasty.

He was speechless. His star pupil is a Stripper.

The biggest plot twist.

Terry wanted her even more. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay and she didn’t need to feel embarrassed or afraid. He could sense she was trying to avoid him as she moved around the room.

Terry needed her to know that he liked what he saw.

They weren’t in his classroom. It was okay to free her inhibitions and show him what Liyah Allure is all about. He found her popping ass and talking shit.

“Tip me, daddy…”

“You want it?”

“Don’t just stare at me. Spoil me…”

Honeyed voice as smooth as silk. Terry drew in closer and allowed himself to be consumed by her.

The glitter on her skin looked edible and if he could lick every single fleck off with his tongue he would.

The dip in her spine leading down to a full ass with hips and thighs to match told him she could take it deep and it would be a warm, tight, wet paradise.

He did say he wanted to escape somewhere tropical…

Those two braids would be anchored around his hands while he drilled deep with every goddamn stroke of his fat dick.

Unh…Unh…Unh…

Make her weep on his dick.

Professor…Professor…Don’t stop…

There she was.

Those eyes focused on him again and he saw the hint of shyness.

“I wanna pull that pussy part…”

Something primal and predatory sparked within him. Aaliyah stroked her lower lips with a single finger and shoved that finger against Darrell’s nose.

Darrell tried to take it too far.

Terry was quicker.

He wrapped his large hand around Darrell’s wrist with a vice grip similar to a boa constrictor. He would knock the daylights outta Darrell and leave him slumped over if he so much as put that finger in his mouth.

Darrell was stunned by Terry’s strength and the fact that he couldn’t break free. Weak ass nigga…

She disappeared.

Mike came over to settle down the growing altercation and with a pat on Terry’s back, he walked away in search of Aaliyah. She was nowhere in sight.

Terry waited for about ten minutes and then she resurfaced from the basement with Keisha. She probably needed a moment to gather her thoughts and energy. His presence stumped her.

Aaliyah scanned the room until she found Terry.

She got down on her hands and knees and popped ass in a split. Nobody else in that room mattered. She locked in on him from across the room. Terry sipped his drink and watched her.

“Who wants a private show?!”

Keisha pointed at Terry.

He gave a quick nod of his head. Keisha was about to be let down. He ain’t want nobody but Aaliyah. She was getting the rest of his money tonight. She deserves it and so much more. And when Terry gets his hands on her…

“I’ll take one. But I want her.”

Aaliyah saw the cash in his hand and smiled.

“Only if she ain’t scared.”

Aaliyah couldn’t believe he just said that.

“I get the impression she likes to tease…”

Aaliyah walked up to Terry with a seductive look in her eyes. He held onto her gaze with his money on display.

“Your call, beautiful.”

Aaliyah stared at him for another moment before taking him by the hand and down into the basement.

——

Terry allowed her to guide him. They headed towards the sofas, silence hanging between them. Aaliyah turned fully to face him before Terry took a seat. Without taking his eyes off of her, he placed his cup on the table and settled back into the cushion. Terry spread his thighs and with one hand over the top of the couch, the other smoothed down his left thigh invitingly. Aaliyah dropped her eyes to his lap and with a faint smile, she took a seat where his hand once was.

Aaliyah watched him spread his money out across his other thigh. She parted her glossy lips a fraction, eyeing nothing but one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes lit up. Terry looked up at her with low, lust filled eyes and a sly smirk. He removed his glasses with one hand and folded it against his chest before sitting it on the table, all while staring at her.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

“…I don’t know what to say…”

Aaliyah’s eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away from him. Terry used his thumb to gently pull her attention back towards him.

“I should be embarrassed right now…”

Terry was trying to keep his composure but her breasts in his face was melting his cool exterior.

“Aaliyah…I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I’m not judging you…”

She giggled nervously, “maybe not…but this was so unexpected, ya know?”

“Very. How long have you been doing this?”

Aaliyah stared heavenward shyly while deep in thought. He liked seeing her like this. It was another side to her he enjoyed.

“Well…this in particular…it’s my second time. Stripping…I did it for about five years before I quit Crazy Horse a year ago…now I just film content and work Verizon part time.”

Her eyes connected with his again.

“So…what do ya want me to do? A lap dance? What?”

Terry trailed his eyes down her body.

“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable…”

Terry’s hand molded into her back. Aaliyah shivered. The feeling of his hand on her skin was exhilarating.

She stood, facing Terry. He placed his money beside him, and his hands out of the way. Aaliyah straddled him, bracing herself on his shoulders. She looked down at him with a slow blink and the erotic smile she gave him forced his hands into fists.

“Have you ever had a lap dance before, Professor?”

“…Call me Terrence.”

“…Terrence…”

“Once. It wasn’t memorable.” Terry responded with a hushed tone.

He reclined his head back slightly and stared up into her eyes with practiced restraint.

Aaliyah gave him a mean whine over his crotch. Her chest would graze his goatee ever so slightly. He had to stop his tongue from poking out to drag between those titties.

“Ooh, that’s too bad…is this okay?”

That melodic voice…

“You’re doin’ just fine, Miss Aaliyah.”

Terry flexed his fingers. Aaliyah looked down at his hands.

“Can I admit something?” Aaliyah asked with a sultry smile.

“What’s that?”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled softly. She blinked away briefly before her eyes met his again.

“What?” Terry pushed.

“I think about you every day…”

“Enough to stick around after class?”

Aaliyah’s bottom lip sat between her teeth. Terry smiled.

“Why did you turn me down?” He questioned.

Aaliyah dragged her hands down his chest and stilled her hips. Terrence rested his hands on the sides of her thighs. He couldn’t resist. Aaliyah didn’t protest.

The feel of her against his hands. The heft of her on him. The images he pictured in his mind…

“I’m not an easy girl, Terrence. You gotta work harder for me. I wanted you to…”

“Chase you.” Terry concluded with an elevated brow.

“May seem silly but…it turns me on.”

“I wonder what else turns you on…”

“That brain of yours,” Aaliyah trailed her fingers through his short, soft curls, “Your passion…expressive hands…your voice…those eyes…”

Terry licked his lips, “I would have chased you and went along with your lil’ game. If that means I get to play with you in the end…”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“You do this…tongue bite thing…I like that…” Terry said.

“What else you like?” Aaliyah asked softly, doing exactly what Terry liked. Displaying the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Moving it back and forth…

“Everything about you…you’re so damn sexy…the way you look at me just…Aaliyah, you’re aware of your beauty. That confidence lights a fire under me, baby…”

“I’m baby?”

“Mhm, the prettiest baby…”

Aaliyah played with his Cuban link. Terry’s right thumb stroked the beauty mark below her lip.

Terry groped her thigh with his free hand and glided it up to her waist. He used his thumb to trace circles into her soft skin.

“I don’t like how you put your finger on Darrell’s nose.”

“You wish it were you? Darrell didn’t get a lap dance…”

Aaliyah lifted from his lap and turned so that she was grinding against his tent with enough pressure to rub her pussy over it. The hard bulge against her fat, lower lips caused her to moan.

Terry threw money over her, his ears enjoying the way her moans sounded so angelic despite her naughty actions.

After all, she is The Dark Angel.

“Aaliyah…”

That signature look back would have had him busting a fat ass nut in his jeans.

The way she moved her hips on him.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad…”

“I know.”

She smiled.

Aaliyah stood from his lap and Terry groaned deep.

“Times up.”

He glared at her with lust and frustration. Aaliyah leaned over him with her hands on the back of the couch. Their eyes connected and her glossy lips feathered over his.

“Until next time…I think I’m free for that lunch on Wednesday…”

She brought her lips to his cheek and with her jeweled tongue, Aaliyah dragged it over his ear tantalizingly slow. She pushed away from him and Terry stood from the couch. He fixed his attire while Aaliyah stared up at him with faux innocence and her hands crossed behind her back. She swayed back and forth, parting her lips to rest her tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a date.”

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[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.”

[danjaley]

Overview over the Brodies' House, real and imagined rooms

I'm using Harbour Village as Edinburgh, and when I first set a scene in Philipp's house in 1745, I just built the living-room into one of the three-unit houses that make up the world. You can still see the three back-stairs. Realistically, the house shouldn't be so broad and have more floors stacking up instead. But I didn't expect that storyline to grow so much. I kept furnishing rooms as I went along.

The living-room hasn't changed much over the years, except for the piano being added. The round table can be moved in and out as needed. The small adjoining room was used by Rosalie, Fergus, Marianne and now Eppie. Oh, and Alice slept there on her wedding-night for reasons of propriety.

The main bedroom existed since Philipp's time as a widower. It hasn't changed much either. Rosalie gave it up to the married couple, so it's Roseanne's and Nicolas' room now. Then there's this awkward thoroughfare room in front of the bedroom. This one is shared by André and François now. André got Philipp's desk, but there's not much space for anything else. It used to be an emergency guest-room and used as such by Louise here and here.

The top right corner room first figured as Eppie's "haunted room". It was briefly used as a guest-room for Fiona and Fergus. Supposedly it became Richard's room later, but we never saw that. It's now shared by Rosalie and Marianne. The beds in this part are mismatched on purpose. Proper furniture was expensice, and I imagine Rosalie repurposed several sofas.

In the lower right corner is what used to be Eppie's and later Jon's room, then Philipp's office and now Béatrice's and Lucie's room. Again with two sofa-beds. Only Thérèse didn't get a space in the main house. She's assumed to sleep in a servant's room in the attic (which doesn't technically exist). Given her background and the fact that she's not related to the family, she wouldn't want anything more fancy.

On the ground floor is the kitchen, which we've only seen once. Next to it is the dininig room, on which I always keep the curtains closed to disguise that it's on the ground-floor. The pantry was never meant to be seen at all, not sure why I put those cupboards there. The front room and the big space where everyone resets to are supposedly where the school is. So far we've only seen the window of the front room.

[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

[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.

[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..."

[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?"

[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."

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

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