chair kick

This is a gift for @fantasyimmortal, for being there for me and chatting to me over the past few weeks when I’ve been feeling down or going through a rough patch, because she really has helped in making me feel better~ 💙

He’d been watching her for about… twenty minutes now. She was busy, hunched over something… Which was quite confusing, because he didn’t think that he had given her something to occupy herself with (besides himself, of course). He was getting more and more curious, so it was at that point he kicked his chair back, rose to his feet, and began to make his way over to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh… nothing…” She remained completely distracted with what she was doing, legs pulled up as she sat on the bed. Her hand was moving here, there, and everywhere, which confused him even more. It wasn’t like she was reading, because hands don’t move about that much when reading.

“Really? It sure looks like something.”

“As I said, Saeran… it’s nothing.”

“Let me see then.”

Ah. That’s what it is, it’s some paper in her hands… The paper was held firmly against her chest as she shook her head, and then she jumped up. “You don’t need to see it… You wouldn’t want to.” Before Saeran could reach out to take hold of the paper, she did something quite surprising.

Who hid their pad of paper up their shirt when they didn’t want somebody to see what they were doing?

Saeran rolled his eyes, and went back to his computers. He’d check to see what she was trying to draw again at a time where she was more… tired, and more willing to listen to him… Maybe even open to some… persuasion to show him what she was doodling.

Eventually Saeran was completely distracted with his hacking, and that was when she felt some relief, and allowed the pad of paper to fall out from under her shirt. She then grabbed the pencil which she had previously been using, before returning to what she had been drawing. She didn’t want Saeran to see what she was drawing… She had never liked showing people her drawings in the past, and it certainly wasn’t going to change at any time soon, even if it was for such a hot, adorable guy which she may or may not have held some sort of attraction towards.

Night fast approached, and Saeran was quite surprised when he realised that it was almost midnight. He ran his hand through his white and pastel pink coloured hair as he tilted his head back, and made a quick glance over to her. She was asleep on his bed, clinging onto the pad of paper as though her life depended on it. He really wanted to look at what she had been drawing, but he had no clue on how to get it out of her hands without covering her arms in a mass of papercuts.

So how was he going to find out what she had been drawing?

Eventually, a light thud echoed through the room as she turned to lie on her other side, the whirr of the computer’s fans being the only other sound in the room. A grin formed on Saeran’s face when he noticed that there was an eraser on the floor beside the bed, on the verge of falling between some floorboards.

He had the perfect plan to get her to show him just what she had been drawing.

“I always thought that maybe, one day I’d be able to hold that fool Luciel hostage against the RFA… Not hold an eraser hostage so that I can look at a drawing.” He slowly made his way over to the bed, slowly and lightly so that the floorboard didn’t creak enough to wake her up, and so that it didn’t bend under his weight and cause the eraser to be lost for good in the realms of underneath the floor.

He felt triumphant as he was able to then slip the small eraser into his pocket, before he then glanced over her body. There was a pencil sticking out through some strands of her hair… That was going to be his too whilst he tried to figure out the drawing.

Afterwards, he lay down in the bed beside her, a smirk on his face due to how proud he was about that pencil and eraser being stashed away in his pocket. Come the morning, he was more than ready to blackmail her to just get a quick glance at at the drawing.

Saeran was woke up at feeling a hard shove on his arm, and his body crashing down onto the splintering wooden floor.

“Hey! What did you do with it?!” There was another hit on his stomach, presumably from a foot, and he let out a puff of air against his arm. “Saeran, answer me! What did you do with my sketchpad?!” He turned his head up, and noticed that she was glaring at him as she sat on the bed, fingers digging in to the thin sheets. “This- This isn’t… This isn’t funny, Saeran… I’ll show you my drawings if you just give it back…”

Tears seemed to be welling up in her eyes as her shoulders then drooped, and Saeran felt a slight ache in his chest at seeing her so upset. “I don’t know what you mean… I don’t have your paper,” he mumbled, pulling himself up off the floor as he began pulling a few of the small wooden chips out of his arm as best as he could without causing himself too much pain.

She looked shocked as he then walked over to his desk and sat down. “Maybe you dropped it when you slept. Or maybe you’ve shoved it up your shirt again?” He snickered quietly, just as a pillow went flying in his direction.

“You don’t let me see what you’re doing on your computers at times… What if, overnight, one of your monitors went missing?”

“Is that a threat?” Saeran leaned back a bit, and threw his legs onto the desk as he raised an eyebrow at her. “You know, threatening the one who brought you here isn’t a good idea, princess.” He then glanced at the bed, and rolled his eyes at the sight of the pad lying underneath the bed. That was where it was…

“It wasn’t a threat! I was just saying… You wouldn’t like it… “

After that, Saeran began to laugh, and then reached into his pocket. “Well… I wasn’t the one who hid it, but I have a good idea where it could be…” He then showed the eraser and pencil off, before grinning. “I’m going to keep stabbing the eraser with this pencil until you figure it out…”

It was hard to hold back his laughter after that, as he kept pretending to mess with the pencil and eraser as she began to dig around everywhere she could. Oh, how naïve… All she needed to do was look underneath the bed…

Ten minutes had passed before a quiet whine escaped her lips, and he took that as a sign of her giving up. He turned to face her once more, and noticed that she seemed to be crying by this point.

“Hey… I’ll try and get it for you, but only with one condition…” He seemed to get her attention at this, so he went and threw the pencil and eraser beside her onto the bed. “Can I see what you’ve been drawing? And in the future, can I at least see your drawings when they’re finished? You can’t tease me like that, princess, not allowing me to see~”

She was still for a moment, and a silent ‘okay’ came out of her mouth. With that, Saeran approached the bed and reached underneath it. Pieces of wood were digging into his arm, but it was worth it if he got to finally see what she had been drawing…

Once he had hold of the pad, and he held it out for her to see, she sighed and turned onto the first sheet of paper so that he could see the drawing. It was… lots of little sketches of… him? His mouth dropped, and instantly, she clammed up and snatched the pad out of his hands. “I- I knew it, you wouldn’t like the drawings-! I shouldn’t have showed you-!”

“Of course I don’t like them.” He stared blankly at her, before approaching her and taking hold of her chin. “I love them… Hmm… I knew I made the right choice in keeping you to myself, I never knew that I had got myself an artist…” He tugged the pad out of her hand before tossing it onto the floor, and a grin formed on his face as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Maybe I can give you some more inspiration for future drawings…” he whispered against her lips, before kissing her. “Whist showing some appreciation to the artist, that is.”

  • me: I'm so fuckin *kicks chair* GAY
  • me: dude I'm gay
  • me: I'm THE MOST gay
  • me: I'm the gayest
  • me: girls are so beautiful to me, you know why? because I'm GAY
  • me: I'm-
  • them: let me guess
  • me: what
  • them: you're gay
The first read through of S4 how it went
  • Amanda : my baker street boys. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
  • (*closes script*)
  • (Silence)
  • Mark: ...
  • Steven: ...
  • Ben: ....
  • Martin: .........
  • Mark: so...Ben what do you think?
  • Ben: ...
  • Steven: Ben?
  • Ben: ...*murmuring* they didn't get together?
  • Mark: what?
  • Ben: My character and Martin's.
  • Mark: Ben, obviously.
  • Martin: *snuffled crying sound.*
  • Amanda: Martin?
  • Ben: *passes Martin a tissue whilst patting his eyes too*
  • Ben:'s...just...they were..they were...*choked cry*
  • Martin: THEY WERE IN LOVE!
  • Moftiss: Martin, are you okay?
  • Martin: *shoving off chair and kicking over table* DO I LOOK OKAY?
  • Moftiss: ...
  • Ben: *tugging on Martin's sleeve* it's-
  • Moftiss: MARTIN!
  • Martin: you know what this is what I think to that *kisses Ben*
  • Moftiss: ....
  • Moftiss: *run to underground bunker*
  • Martin: ...
  • Ben: ...
  • Martin: ...
  • Ben: you know you can do that again anytime.
  • Martin: 😏

*jumps on table* I GAVE YOU MY HEART *kicks over chair* YOU RIPPED IT APART *clenches fist and falls to my knees* LIKE WRAPPING PAPER TRASH *grabs broom and uses it as a microphone* SO I WROTE YOU A SONG *points dramatically* HOPE THAT YOU SING ALONG *clenches shirt in my hands* AND IT GOES MERRY CHRISTMAS 👏👏 KISS MY ASS

My piece for the Stanchez Micro-Bang.

A scene from The Stan Wrong Song by maxvsthefuture

“I gotta be completely honest with ya, Bethany: this is not a real airplane.”

Her dark brown eyes were transfixed on a fork loaded with warm, fresh waffle. Syrup dripped on the table. With her hat off– the polite thing to do in a restaurant– her hair was sticking up all crazylike. Her chubby baby legs dangled from her high-chair, kicking back and forth. She waited for what her new pal Stanley would say next.

I like how it came out, despite having completely forgotten how to draw Rick’s face :U

the-universes-best-dressed  asked:

for a prompt! santa monica by everclear

Nice, get some everclear in the mix! Thanks for the prompt :) 

“Look,” I say, “it’s not you, it’s me. I think I’m just heading in a different direction right now. I can’t let our relationship hold me back anymore.”

Light, fastest man on Earth, superhero extraordinaire, stops struggling against his bonds to stare at me. “Did you kidnap me to…break up with me?”

My heart skips a beat. “No! I mean, we’re not even, like, dating so I’m not. Obviously.” I adjust my rubber gloves nervously, tucking my lab coat more securely into them. “Just, um, letting you know that you don’t need to save the day anymore. From me at least.” I laugh and stop abruptly, face flushing. My laugh is off putting, so I hear.

Light speed kicks the chair I’ve tied him to and grimaces when it doesn’t break.

“It’s titanium,” I say, shoving my hands into my coat’s pockets. “I’ll let you go, just wanted to tell you goodbye, I guess. We, uh, probably won’t be seeing each other again.”

“Are you dying?” he asks, strangely alarmed. He lowers his voice. “Or is someone threatening you?” His eyes narrow. “Is it Technomaniac? Because he’s from Texas, this isn’t even his turf, I can contact the heroes down there to come get him–”

“I’m not being threatened,” I blurt out. He’d kick another villain out of LA for me? Why? “I just, it’s time for me to move on, that’s all. I, well…”

“You are dying,” Light says, face horrified. “Oh my god, and I threw you through that window last week!”

“I’m not dying!” I throw my hands up in the air. “I’m quitting being a villain!”

The words ring in the empty lab. All of my equipment has already been disposed of, the experiments, everything. I’m ready for a new start, totally and completely.

“You’re…quitting.” Light seems unable to comprehend it. “Like, quitting quitting? Or taking a break? Or maybe you mean rebranding, I hear that’s popular these days–”

Keep reading

  • friend: *can't find me in a crowded room*
  • friend: *sighs* in sleep--
  • me: *from across the room* HE SANG TO ME *kicks over chair* IN DREAMS HE CAME *gatecrashes party* THAT VOICE WHICH CALLS TO ME AND SPEAKS MY NAME *kidnaps the lead soprano* AND DO I DREAM AGAIN FOR NOW I FIND *crashes chandelier* THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA IS THERE INSIDE MY MIND
  • friend: *sighs* there she is
Poker Face

Reid x Reader

You parked your car as close to Rossi’s front door as you could and exited, getting ready to collect your boyfriend of ten months from his boys night in. He’d text you thirty minutes ago, a text that you’d struggled to decipher but had decided it meant you needed to collect him.

“Hey Y/N, come on in. We’re all in the kitchen,” Derek Morgan answered the front door, a wide grin on his face. You followed behind him into the brightly lit kitchen. Spencer was sat at the table, an empty tumbler. His eyes lit up when he saw you, a huge goofy grin spreading over his face. He bounded over to you, nearly kicking his chair over in the process and threw his arms around you.

“Y/N! Look everybody, it’s Y/N,” he proceeded to sloppily kiss your cheek, his hands running up and down your sides.  Gently you stopped his roaming hands and pulled away.

“Alrighty, someone’s a little drunk.”

“A little…..” Alvez scoffed in the corner, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m not drunk!” Spencer tried to kiss you again, hiccupping into your face and giving you a beautiful second hand whiff of whiskey.

“Derek,” you turned to his best friend. “Why is he wasted and you guys aren’t?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders, not prepared to take any responsibility for this at all. It was Rossi who turned from his spot at his coffee maker.

“I believe the theory was that if he was drunk, he couldn’t keep kicking their butts at poker,” he took a long sip of his coffee.

“You guys played poker against Spencer?”

Derek nodded as you put your hand on Spencer’s chest, trying to push him back slightly. He was currently trying to nibble on your neck, seemingly forgetting he had an audience.

“Luke didn’t believe that he was as good a player as he claimed to be.”

Luke had a rather sheepish look on his face.

“Aaaand,” you probed, looking pointedly at Alvez.

“Alright so I was wrong. Even after six whiskies he kicked my ass.”

“Dude, I told you there was a reason he’s band from pretty much every casino in Vegas,” Morgan laughed.

You turned to your boyfriend who was still grinning from ear to ear.

“Wanna see my winnings?” he asked you, not waiting for your answer. He thrust his hands into his pockets and came out with a huge bundle of cash, a Rolex watch which you recognised to be Rossi’s, an extremely expensive sports watch that you presumed was Luke’s and a folded piece of paper.

“That’s an IOU for two weeks at my beach house down in Florida,” the teams newest recruit Walker spoke up.

You took the wad of cash and flicked through it. There was close to a thousand dollars there you estimated.

“Well, guess I’ll be buying myself a new outfit tomorrow then,” you grinned before taking the two watches and handing them back to their owners, ignoring the protests from Spencer. You halved the cash as well and set it back on the table.

“The IOU, we’re keeping if that’s cool. You have a beach house?”

“Keep it Y/N, the Kid deserves it. I swear he’d have had the shirt of my back if he could have,” Stephen replied.

“But…. but, that’s my winnings!”

“Sssshhh baby. You know it’s not fair to play against these guys.”

“Yeah but…. ” Spencer pouted, his bottom lip sticking so far out you wanted to laugh.

“No, yeah buts. Now let’s go home," you pushed him gently in the direction of the door.

"Next time boys, tequila is the way to go. Whisky has very little affect on his poker skills for some reason. After three tequila shots though, even I’ve beat him.”

You neglected to tell them that you’d been playing strip poker at the time and he’d been distracted by other things…

The whole ride home was spent pushing Spencer’s hand off your thigh. He’d start of sweetly stroking your leg and then would inch higher and higher up. Normally you wouldn’t mind but you hated driving so late at night and Rossi lived a little way out of town so you needed to concentrate.

“Wait until we’re home!” you lightly smacked his hand away, trying to stifle a giggle.

“But…. I don’t wanna… You’re so pretty and your skin is so lovely and I just wanna…. Let’s pull over! Let’s do that thing we both like in the car.”

There were lots of things you both liked, none of which were happening in the this car.

“I don’t really fancy being arrested for indecent exposure, so nah. Have patience,” you told him, knowing exactly what would happen as soon as you got home.

“But I’m an FBI Agent. I know alllll the cops. They won’t arrest me.”

Not true, they would. And then Emily would have to pull some strings whilst teasing you both incessantly.

“Spencer chill out. We’ll be home in ten minutes and the you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Okay… Okay good. Cos I wanna do sooo many things to you,” he started to list the numerous sexual things he was promising to do to you and you just nodded along. If he was sober you’d find it sexy, but he was wasted so it just ended up being amusingly cute. When you finally reached your apartment you parked up and waited for him to stagger out of the car. He wobbled only slightly, tripping up a few times on the way up the three flights of stairs to your home.

His hands made their way around your waist again as you unlocked the door, his lips attacking your neck. Which again would have been sexy except the alcohol was making him drool slightly and his lips were a lot wetter than normal.

“Come on baby, let’s get you to bed,” you kicked the door shut behind you and led him to your bedroom. You pushed him down onto your bed, laughing as he pulled you on the top of him, his hands searching for the hem of your vest.

“Can we do those things now?” he asked excitedly.

“Sure baby, let me just slip into the bathroom first okay. Why don’t you take your clothes off and get ready and I’ll be right back.”

You clambered off him and made your way to your bathroom, wincing as you heard the thud of his converse hitting your floor as he tugged them off. You brushed your teeth and changed into your fluffy warm pajamas then stopped by the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water and a can of coke.

When you re entered your bedroom Spencer was passed out on his back, loud snores leaving his throat. He’d managed to strip down to his boxers and climb under the covers himself. Chuckling to yourself you placed one of the waters and the coke on the bedside cabinet next to him and climbed in the other side, searching your drawer for your ear plugs.

That boy could not handle his drink.

But no doubt he’d make up for it in the morning.

Give Him What He Pays For

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2,100-ish

Warnings: rough sex, loud sex, dom!Sam, sub!Reader, biting, spanking

Author’s Note:  I was supposed to post this next week, but in honor of 4,000 followers I decided to post it tonight.

“Sam, I’m not playing with you!”

Your voice echoes around the small motel room as the door slams behind you, loud enough to spook you, but not enough to completely scare you. Again, you and Sam are arguing. Since Sam came back from the hell, he’s been different. Apart from not having a soul, he just seems angry and/or tense all the time…

Keep reading

lydia is way too smart for beacon hills high school. i can just imagine her sitting in class, bored, because she already knows everything so she starts bugging stiles by flicking paper at him and kicking his chair with her heels and he looks up from taking his notes all annoyed, but it fades away as soon as she smiles at him but then he tells her off for distracting him when he’s trying to pay attention, so she just tells him ”I’ll teach it to you later”. So in conclusion lydia martin is way too smart for beacon hills high school 

Hey, seals!

I’m apparently feeling better so I thought I’d share some lolz with you.

Three major survival items for the week:

  • the loveseat
  • my pale grey sweater
  • my hideous green, white, and red quilt

Every morning I get up, drag the latter two to the former and spend my day, writing, reading, or staring into space while taking meds and drinking fluids and generally trying to recover from anaphylaxis, asthma, and bronchitis. Today, Basch Foo obviously decided I am well enough to be cast out.

You will note the refusal to leave me enough room to sit beside him. They extension of the doggy body that allows for maximum claiming of both sweater and quilt (as well as my orange tshirt jacket just in case I wanted that too).

When confronted.

Our subject was unswayed, though he did give me enough room to sit on the edge of the loveseat, exactly enough for half my butt to fall asleep. Thanks, Basch.

His remorseless reply.