red stool

silk | BTS AU | Chapter One

Genre : BTS AU, CEO!Jimin & Jungkook, SMUT/ANGST, tw: swearing, sexual content 18+

Characters : Park Jimin x Reader, featuring Jeon Jungkook

Word Count : 3481

A/N: She’s back at it again with the fanfics. Here is the first chapter of silk!!! I am very excited about this fic, and I hope you all are too. As always, let me know what you think! Ur words inspire me and keep me motivated!


[song of the chapter]

Keep reading

“The Iguanas” were an American garage rock band formed in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in 1963. On a red stool sits 16–year-old drummer and vocalist of this band is James Osterberg, later took the alias Iggy Pop.


“You ready to go?” you asked, leaning onto the counter Benny was wiping down in the empty diner. You dropped your car keys on the white laminate and slid into one of the red stools and Benny walked over to stand across from you. 

“’Bout there, darlin’, just gotta clean up.” he smiled. “Five more minutes.” he promised. 

“Hey, Ben, we gotta stop by the supermarket so you better use your vamp speed to get done quicker.” you smirked. 

“Keep that pretty mouth shut, cher.” he smirked back. It made him so mad when you said things like that. “Humans,” he scoffed because he knew it made you mad. 

“Yea, yea, whatever, we’re even.” rolling your eyes, you made your way behind the counter and stood behind Benny, wrapping your arms around him. “We need wine and a Redbox movie.” 

“I know, darlin’, this ain’t my first rodeo.” he finished wiping the counter and locked the register. “Lets hit the dusty.” he wrapped his arm around you as you swiped your keys off the counter and the two of you got into your car, stopping at the drugstore in town on your way to your tiny apartment. 

You plopped down on the couch while Benny popped the moving in and sat down behind you. You leaned back against his chest as you sat between his legs, resting your head on his shoulder. He’d picked some boxing movie and was fully immersed in it, jerking along with the characters as the fought. 

“Could you please be still, Ben? I’m going to end up in the floor if you keep that up.” you laughed, reaching up to pull his hat down over his eyes. 

“Sorry baby,” he chucked, his chest rumbling under you as he settled back into the couch. “I used to fight like that.” he said nostalgically. 

“Really?” you asked, looking up at his blue eyes. 

“Yea, baby. You take away the fangs and the fun and I was born human too.” 

“I know, but you never told me you were a boxer.” 

“That was a long time ago so don’t go get into any trouble expecting me to get you out.” he teased, tickling your side a little. 

“I’m a real trouble maker.” you rolled your eyes, nestling into him as he wrapped his arms around you after he pulled a blanket up over the two of you. 

“Yea, I know.” he smiled, pressing a long kiss to your head. “I love you.” he said as your eyes shut slowly and your head drifted and fell against his neck. 

Late Night Diner Shift

An Eddie Redmayne one shot for anon.

I was taking a slow sip of my coffee, feeling numbly tired and staring into the distance when the little bell on the door trickled. I could hear footsteps approaching the bar of the diner I worked at, but couldn’t tear myself out of my trance until the customer cleared his throat. Finally, I looked up and met a pair of kaleidoscopic eyes that seemed to smile, creating creases around the corners.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

melly ugh thesun/./co/./uk/tvandshowbiz/2777972/top-fashion-photographer-mariano-vivanco-hints-mum-to-be-cheryl-is-doing-an-intimate-baby-bump-shoot-as-he-posts-clues-on-instagram/

So, a fashion photographer who regularly shoots for mags like Vogue and Vanity Fair apparently shot Cheryl yesterday with a stool and red sheet!  Cheryl did a photo shoot last month where you could tell her bump was part of the shot, so at this point, we should be 0% surprised when photos of a very pregnant Cheryl hit (also wouldn’t be surprised if it did around the same time Liam’s first single does). In other much more important news, my eyebrow game is extremely on point today. 

So I was just lying in bed before I was attacked by the thought of Maria teaching Tony to bake his first cake. Imagine a five year old Tony watching his mother with big brown eyes, curious and attentive as she explains everything to him in a calm and gentle voice. He has his own little red stool to stand on so he can see properly as well as reach for things. Maria letting him pour the ingredients in before helping him stir, praising her ‘lovely boy’ as he grins brightly at her as well as what they’re making. 

There’s flour everywhere, the kitchen island is in a mess but they’re happy and smiling and laughing because it’s so warm and peaceful. Maria putting the cake into the oven to bake before brushing the flour out of Tony’s hair and smiling fondly when Tony tries to wipe off the little bit of cake batter that landed on her right cheek. 

I don’t know, this thought just came and it made me so happy because Howard isn’t home, Jarvis helping them from time to time and it has probably been a while since they were able to feel this free. 

Just them baking a cake and decorating it with all sorts of decorations as well as writing their names on it with icing. It’s a beautiful afternoon and it’s their time to be just on their own with no trouble. 

This is a memory that Tony looks back on fondly, especially when days are tough and he misses her so much. 

Yep, now I’m sad. 

Since Molly’s almost an entire foot shorter than Sherlock, I guarantee that if they were ever dating and got into a proper fight, Molly would not hesitate to stop, leave the room, come back with a chair and stand on it before continuing to shout at Sherlock with her hands on her hips.

5SOS. Overflow PT 1.

It will probably end up being three parts. I have the bones of all of it written, but need to fill in the last two parts with all the meat and potatoes still (so to speak). Please enjoy and be open to what could happen. I’m really excited for the rest, but nervous for you guys to read everything.

As if it was her own bedroom, Penelope long legs led her confidently in front of her parents bed as she loudly chewed on a triangle of watermelon. She collapsed down on the edge of the made up mattress and watched blankly as her Dad sat on the red velvet stool that belonged to your vanity as you were leaning in front of him, tweezing his eyebrows. She had seen the routine countless times, sometimes you even waxed them when they really grew wild like the vines on old French vineyards.

“That time of the month?” Sucking up the fruit juice from the back of her hand, Penny asked rhetorically.

“Like clockwork.” Chuckling, you didn’t take your eyes off your husbands caterpillars that you had kept rockstar ready since you were young twenty somethings.

“What’s up, Pigpen?” With his eyes closed, Luke sounded stern, talking to his eldest kid though facing your chest.

“I was wondering how busy your night is. If you had a little time for someone.”

“I was just going to finish packing for your big adventure.” Luke was dreading taking his daughter to Paris since she didn’t have a return flight like he did. He was dropping her off at culinary school in a city where she barely spoke the language and he wasn’t going to get to see her whenever he wanted. Even though she drove him mental with her surfing, sneaking out, and penchant for leaving dirty clothes and discarded flip flops everywhere, he did not want to know his life without Penny under his roof. Wasn’t he just teaching her how to blow bubbles out of a plastic wand a week ago? He hadn’t packed a single article of clothes or any toiletries.  Luke was dreading the flight.

Keep reading

They met in a Washington diner. It wasn’t a classy place, but then, neither of them was classy.  Trip was alone at one end of the bar, picking halfheartedly at a plate of greasy fries, waiting until he was needed at the arena.  At the other end of the bar sat Ig, nursing a short glass of something amber.

He didn’t know why, but Trip was interested in the guy his age drinking whiskey at 1pm on a Wednesday.  What was his story? Trip slid off his stool, red vinyl creaking, and hopped up on the one next to Ig. He smiled, more of a tightening of the lips than anything, and shrugged his narrow shoulders up a fraction of an inch. He rarely talked, but he was usually understood.

Ig returned the gesture.

boyfriend luke picking you up at like two in the morning in his old, beat up car with an array of CD's in the console. he’d beep his horn twice from down the block and wait for you to climb down from your window, and when you’d run to his car he’d roll his window down and shoot you a smile because he’s missed his favourite girl. he’d pull you close for a kiss once you’re in the car, wiggle his nose against yours and finally pushed his lips to yours before shifting the car into gear and grabbing your hand, and interlocking your fingers. he’d drive for a good half hour to a tiny diner with neon light signs in the windows and red cushioned bar stools. the two of you’d sit at a little booth, and share milkshakes and little secrets until the sun crept up above the tree tops and the two of you ended up in the backseat of his car snuggling and watching the sunrise.