suspended-in-air

2032. “lets playing” is a major in several reputable universities across the country. markiplier is the head of the lets playing department at Yale. a student walks into his office. “sir,” she says, “a boy in my intro to battletoads class was making antisemitic comments towards me.” 

“and you’re telling on him?” he questions in his way too charismatic voice. 

“um,” she says, “yes?” 

“well” he says. he positions a camera light onto his face and presses record on his very expensive camera. “i really just think you’re showing a lack of respect by trying to bring down this man who did nothing but–”

meanwhile, in an apartment in SoHo, the beat letsplayer movement is in full swing. cassandra, a cigarette dangling from her lips, sighs. “my mom still thinks i’m insane for leaving NYU”

“she’s insane,” says donovan, “the letsplayer major there is total corporate bullfuckery. they only care about the numbers, man, and defending each other’s near impossible to escape racist jokes (why is that so prevalent wtf), not doing new and interesting things with video games.”

“whatever,” she says, “once my series where i play fallout new vegas while suspended 30 feet in the air on a trapeze drops, then i’ll break it into the mainstream. then she’ll see.”

they make love, both secretly pretending the other is nick robinson

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This Sky Pool Lets You Swim Suspended 500 Feet In The Air And It’s Terrifyingly Awesome

I have never “nope’d” so hard in my life.

Harry Styles soars like an eagle in the official video for his debut solo single ‘Sign of the Times.’ The epic clip, which debuted on Monday morning (May 8), finds Harry flying above a lush landscape of verdant woods and waterfalls in Isle of Skye, Scotland.

Styles teased the video last week and while fans assumed it was him suspended in the air over the emerald expanse, the video’s stunt pilot, Will Banks, said Harry flew more than 1,550 feet high during the shoot. To put that in perspective, that’s higher than the tip of the Empire State Building and the Eiffel Tower. Though it’s hard to believe anyone would let the singer do such a dangerous stunt, Banks said that no green screen or CGI effects were employed to capture the sweeping shots.
5

Analemma Tower Hanging From An Asteroid In Space

In the words of the architects Clouds Architecture Office:

Analemma inverts the traditional diagram of an earth-based foundation, instead depending on a space-based supporting foundation from which the tower is suspended. This system is referred to as the Universal Orbital Support System (UOSS). By placing a large asteroid into orbit over earth, a high strength cable can be lowered towards the surface of earth from which a super tall tower can be suspended. Since this new tower typology is suspended in the air, it can be constructed anywhere in the world and transported to its final location. The proposal calls for Analemma to be constructed over Dubai, which has proven to be a specialist in tall building construction at one fifth the cost of New York City construction.

Posting just to read some reactions: incredibly stupid or visionary genius?

Thanks for the feedback @sirlagsalotzzz & @abraca-awesome!

anonymous asked:

Dude, requests are back up, awesome! How about DAI companions + Krem de la creme reacting to the inquisitor being one of the last avian folk?(Like, they have big ass wings, so they always wear an even bigger cloak to hide them, and during battle somehow, they end up losing the cloak? They can legit fly with them)

Cassandra: She stares and stares before angrily demanding to know why they hid this from her. They sheepishly explain their situation, and she calms down, but it doesn’t change the fact they hid it. When she eventually gets over it, she sometimes just sits and watches them fly around (which they do for fun; they’re actually sort of relieved to be revealed for this reason). It makes her nervous, at first, worrying they’ll suddenly drop, but she’s awed by how agile and graceful they are in the sky. Once or twice, they have to pick her up and drop her somewhere else, and it makes her nervous every time they pick her up, and she hates how helpless she feels suspended in the air. If Romanced: Sometimes he takes her flying for no reason other than a good time. She likes it significantly more than non-romanced flying. Eventually, they’ll land, and have a quiet, serene place to sit together while she listens to him recite poetry.

Blackwall: He stares. That’s all he can do as he gawks with a slack jaw for a long time. He has no words– trying for speech just results in helpless sputtering. The man stands aside as the others fuss and try to make sense of the situation, and speaks last. He gets over it, though, once he hears the story, and doesn’t mind at all. “They’re like a pair of griffon wings,” he admires, “powerful and fast.” If the Herald can lift him up, it makes him supremely uncomfortable the first time they take him into the sky, but he finds that he thinks it’s fun. If Romanced: He regularly compliments her on how beautiful her wings are, and he tries to help itch and clean the spots she can’t reach easily. He brings her flowers that grow all the way up on a mountainside, and she gently teases him and says she could just fly him up there. “No, my lady,” he refuses, “it’s not the same if all the work’s taken out of it. You shouldn’t waste your time helping me get you flowers; let me do the work.”

Iron Bull: After getting past the initial shock, he’s utterly green with envy. It looks like SO MUCH FUN, taking off like a dragon to the skies. The Herald tries to pick him up (to no avail, he’s too heavy) to give him the experience of flying, so he takes it upon himself to make them stronger and faster, so they can. Push-ups with wings, laps around Skyhold, timing their speed of flight, you name it. “Just wait. You’ll go back to your people and fly circles around them! When you can finally lift me up, you can air-drop me on the enemies for an attack from above! It’s gonna be great!” If romanced: Hot. He’s 100% into this. He snickers if any feathers get ruffled or fall off after sex. “Did I ruffle your feathers, Kadan?” he teases, and he just laughs as they slap him with a wing. He ties one of the feathers that fall off to the dragontooth necklace, as long as they don’t mind.

Sera: She’s freaked out and utterly shocked. She has no idea how to react, so she just stares for a long time, sputtering helplessly. She feels bad later at how upset they seemed at her facial expression. “Aw, shite… well, your feathery ass is welcome here, alright?” she reassures. She likes tossing things at them when they’re flying to see if they can catch it, and it becomes a sort of game/exercise routine. She also talks them into using their wings to prank others. She screams the first time they pick her up and take her into the sky, but soon she realizes she likes it, so long as she trusts the Herald. Sometimes she’ll ask to be taken with them, because she thinks it’s exhilarating– and a few times, shoots arrows at people from above while the Herald carries her. “Death from above! Arrows from the sky! I even have a source of feathers for fletching at any moment! Hah!” A few times, if she needs them, she’ll just pluck a feather clean off if there’s none lying around, and sticks her tongue out as the Herald protests. “What? You still got a lot of ‘em. Your wings are huge!” Also jokingly refers to wings/feathers sticking out as “wingboners.” If Romanced: She likes tickling her wings and playing with her feathers, and sleeping under a wing when they’re in bed together. “They’re soft. And fuzzy. And cute.” she gushes. She also learns how to preen the feathers, and takes to doing so regularly out of affection, at least in the areas her girlfriend can’t reach with ease. She typically finishes it off by taking a feather or two that falls off to keep for herself.

Varric: “Holy Mother of Andraste’s ass.” he breathes, taking it all in. He comes around quickly, though, and asks a lot of questions– though few on anatomy, unlike Dorian, and more on who they are, where they come from, and about their people. He’s fascinated, and taking notes. Sometimes when he’s out of writing quills, he wryly asks them if he can take one of theirs– or may just take one if they drop off from time-to-time. He’s not a fan of going into the sky, at all. “You know, I like the idea of getting as far away from the Stone as possible,” he says nervously as he looks down at the world below, “but this is a bit too far. Dwarves don’t fly.”

Cole: He knew, and he doesn’t mind in the least. “I am sorry. The others know, and they want to help. They don’t mind the wings.” He also comments that the others are happy while watching the Herald fly, and the Inquisitor takes to doing small shows on a regular basis for the crowd at Skyhold, which always draws large numbers. Everyone is cheered by the amazing sight of them in the sky, and morale goes up. People start sitting and waiting for hours before the show starts. Cole smiles– they helped.

Dorian: About five million questions start flying from his lips as soon as he’s out of the initial shock. How fast can you fly? How many feathers do you have? What’s the bone structure of your wings? Can you stick one straight out so I can measure how long it is? Where are your people from? Why are you the only one out here? It makes them more than a little uncomfortable, and he feels bad when he realizes how uncomfortable they are. “Oh.” he says, suddenly quiet. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… if you need to talk, let me know?” He loves watching them soar through the sky, and he takes notes as he watches. He considers them and their wings utterly beautiful, and he feels honored to know them and witness their flight. He does not particularly care for going in the air, though, citing a sudden fear of extreme heights as he clings to the Herald, trying desperately to not look down. If Romanced: He loves preening his lover’s feathers, because it’s hard for them to reach behind and get them clean. He finishes it all with a kiss. He feels so safe under his boyfriend’s wings as they lay together, and he silently smirks as he imagines his father’s reaction to seeing his boyfriend.

Vivienne: She has to work to hide her complete and utter shock, and briefly scolds the Herald for not telling her before. When they’re comfortable, she examines their wings in detail. She figures out a grooming regimen. “Darling, everyone knows what you are now– there’s no point in hiding your wings any longer.” She smiles. “So use them. Preen them. Take the time and effort to make them presentable. You will be imposing, awe-inspiring, beautiful, majestic, and everyone will know it with a single glance.” She introduces them to her tailor, who manages to make them outfits that accommodate the wings– even accentuate them. Vivienne does not like being taken into the sky, but tolerates it if necessary in combat.

Solas: Their people were known to the ancient Elvhen, but their numbers were in slow decline– he’s honestly surprised that there’s any still around at all. He’s sympathetic to them, and surprises them by being the least shocked of any of the party members. He claims that he has seen their people before in the Fade, and suddenly the other party members are coming to him, asking for information. When he shakes them off, he mentions to the Herald that they shouldn’t hide their wings, for they are beautiful and proof of their ancient people. He asks them a lot of questions about the current state of their race, about their society, which befuddles the Herald. He doesn’t seem to mind being lifted into the air, if need be, and may even ask the Herald to carry him to places inaccessible by walking alone. If Romanced: They spend dates just finding places that only winged creatures can reach, and they look over the world together. They slumber and see memories previous unexplored by the remote location, and Solas feels genuine happiness that someone can understand the value of unexplored dreams. “Thank you, ma vhenan. Thank you…”

Cullen: He just sighs. Somehow this doesn’t even shock him. Maybe he’s seen too much. He’s a bit frustrated that they didn’t tell him to begin with, but lets it go readily. He asks if they know any others of their kind who would be interested in joining the Inquisition– flying soldiers would be excellent– and finds himself bewildered as they tell him that the vast majority of their people are shy and mistrustful of land-dwellers. He apologizes, and does not press the matter further. He enjoys watching them fly, and compliments them on their ability, but absolutely hates being taken off the ground and into the sky in any circumstances. If Romanced: He’s somewhat more tolerant of being taken into the sky, but he still doesn’t like it. Sometimes when he’s having bad dreams, he awakens as one of her wings gently folds over him, covering him softly, affectionately, and his heart rate slows. He’s safe, and she loves him, and he feels it. He goes back to sleep in peace, happy with what he has and who he loves.

Leliana: She’s just envious, if anything; she wouldn’t mind being able to fly. She was wondering what they were hiding, and found several stray feathers (which may or may not be in unusual colors) from time-to-time, and this explains it. She takes it pretty calmly, and asks if they know any others of their kind that might be willing to join as agents, or even airborne couriers. If the Herald ever takes her into the sky, she acts totally calm, but she LOVES it, even though she doesn’t say so.

Josephine: She’s at a loss. She tries to quickly compose herself and awkwardly make sense of the situation, but once the shock wears off, she’s endlessly curious about being able to fly. She watches them zip through the sky with grace and speed and is utterly mesmerized. Like Vivienne, she encourages a strict preening regimen– if they’re going to have wings, they might as well make them presentable. Eventually, the Herald offers to take her flying, and she squeals with a mix of delight and a bit of fright. Her hair blows loosely, and the wind’s on her face, and by the time the Herald brings her back down, she’s dazed and eager for the next time they fly together. If Romanced: They take her flying with them all the time, and it makes for interesting dates. She giggles and squeals (and on one occasion, screams as they do a loop with her in their arms) and has the time of her life. They always end it by landing somewhere picturesque, and they sit together, cuddling and admiring the world around them.

Krem: “Your… your Worship?” he asks, shocked, not sure if he’s seeing correctly, or if Bull’s pulling a prank like that time they all covered themselves with feathers– but no, it’s really them. If they don’t mind, he asks them questions about flying, and remarks that the Chargers would love having one of their kind on the team, if they know anyone looking for work. Sometimes he tosses his stuffed winged nug plushies at them from the ground, and they catch, not unlike the game played with Sera. He really likes flying, and admires the view of the world below.

okay but since it’s on my mind for the obvious reasons, let’s just talk about golden statue Ford for a second.

Did Bill just entomb him within a layer of gold? Or did he literally transform every cell and atom of this poor man’s body into actual gold? Was Ford conscious while he was a statue? Did he still have awareness of what was going on around him? Could he feel when Bill was picking him up or clinking him against his martini glass? Or did Ford essentially go comatose during all this?

Well, sadly there’s no answering the first question by what canon tells us, but I have a hypothesis on the second one.

I would argue that Ford was NOT conscious of what was occurring around him while a statue. 

Right before he was frozen into gold, Ford was suspended in the air by Bill’s magic. Captured. The last thing Ford would have seen is the energy pouring from Bill’s eye coursing towards him.

And then when Ford is finally released, he immediately begins shouting for Bill to “let him go”- which is perhaps what he’d begun to shout immediately before being frozen- and then he pauses… confused and not knowing where he is. 

“What… what is this place?” he says. Which means he’s never seen it before. Not even when Bill brought him in there. Suggesting that no, he is not conscious while a statue.

We see this again later on, when he’s frozen after begging for Bill to not torture the kids. The gold melts off him, and he has that same slightly disorientated expression.

Because just moments before for him, he was standing on a throne made of all the townsfolk and Bill was going to destroy his family and friends. Then suddenly, he’s standing on the floor of the Fearamid and everyone is free. The kids are in front of him. They’re alive. Bill is nowhere to be seen. Ford’s surprise tells me that he literally does not know how this happened and has no memory of witnessing it because he was comatose through the whole thing.

The right thing

(A/N): I’m so sorry this has taken me so long to get to, I really hope you like it!

Request: ok, i’ve thought about it long and hard (not really) and i think i’d like an old man logan request, if you even do that, lol. he sees me on the side of the road in the freezing canadian cold, and decides to do the right thing and drive me to wherever he resides, but he’s a bit hesitant on getting acquainted at first, being the grumpy old coot he is. then, at his place, after getting comfy, we both decide that we might get along and i fall asleep. ya know, just some fluffy shturf. ;3

Warnings: none?

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor, @rainbeauxbread


Originally posted by dailymarvelheroes

   Logan gripped the wheel of his car so tightly that his knuckle were white. He could feel the thrum of the engine running through his fingers, into the Adamantium of his bones. 

   The snow outside his window blurred everything in sight, making it nearly impossible to drive and yet he was doing it. With a sigh he reaches over and grabs a cigar, lighting it quickly before taking a long drag from it and that’s when it caught his eye, a long figure standing on the side of the road but before he could even stop to think about his car had passed by them, the snow quickly obscuring their form.

    Logan blinked, attempting to convince himself that what he saw he did not see, there was no way someone was out here in the frigid cold. Rolling his shoulders back he kept on driving but a certain nagging feeling told him to turn around, check it out just to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

  “Damn it,” He mutters through his cigar as he swerves the car around, driving most likely into traffic (if there was any). His eyes thoroughly scanned the the sidewalk, searching for the figure. His gaze locks on the same long figure, standing on the side of the road shivering madly. With not so great parking skills Logan pulls up to the snowy bank, hoping out of his car as soon as he turned the engine off. 

   “Any reason you’re out here in the cold kid?” He asks through his cigar, his voice only a tiny bit muffled. The being turns to look at him, their eyes downcast as they rub at their arm, most likely trying to get some feeling back in them. 

   “I’m waiting,” 

   “What for?” 

   “Someone,” The figure mutters, sniffling a bit. Logan sighs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. 

   “You’re gonna freeze out here,” 

   “Good.” Logan looks at them through squinted eyes, little puffs of smoke billowing from his mouth. 

   “Get in the car,” He mutters, giving them no room to argue. 

   “What?” The figure looks up, looking at Logan incredulously. 

   “I said get in the car, I don’t want you freezing to death,” 

   “Why do you care?”

   “Believe it or not the idea of some kid freezing to death on the side of the road isn’t really a pleasant one, now get in the car,” 

   “How do I know you’re not gonna rape me or something?” Logan looks nearly offended at their words, how dare they accuse him of such a thing? Wrinkling his nose in disgust he turns away, reaching up to grab his cigar. 

   “I’m not gonna hurt ya but if you don’t want to tag along I’ll let you die out here,” Logan walks to his car, ignoring his gut feeling telling him to turn around and demand that however this was get in with him. He took a few steps towards the car, reaching for his keys when he stopped- the figure speaking up finally. 

   “Where are you going to take me?” Logan smiles just a bit, turning to cast the figure with a side glance. “I know a place for you,” The figure nods numbly as they skirt around Logan’s car, violently shivering as they walked towards the passenger door. 

   Logan gave them a good long look, staring at their frozen eyelashes and nearly purple lips; how long had this kid been out here? Shaking off his worry Logan unlocked the car, hoping in and starting the ignition. The figure sighed in relief as they placed their hands to the barely working AC vents which at the moment were spitting out little bits of heat. Logan eyed them once more, the permanent goosebumps on their skin, the way their nails were nearly black from the cold. 

  “Shit kid,” Logan muttered as he took of his coat, thrusting into the figure’s lap. “Put that on, you’re gonna freeze if you don’t,” The figure shakily slips the jacket on, pulling it around their body tightly. 

   “Please tell me wherever we’re going is warmer than this?” Logan starts up the car, not even looking behind him or ahead of him as he turned around once again. 

   “Yeah…yeah it is,” Logan rubs a hand down his face, stopping just above his lips. With an exasperated sigh he plucked out his cigar and smashed it into his ashtray, letting out the last few puffs of smoke from his mouth. “You got a name kid?” The figure shivers, nodding their head as they do. 

   “It’s (Y/N),” Logan nods his head, casting (Y/N) a side glance. 

   “Well (Y/N), I’m Logan,”


   “Just take the goddamn blanket (Y/N),” Logan muttered as he thrust another blanket at the still shivering kid on his couch. 

   “Logan, I already have like,” (Y/N) pauses to count the amount of layers they were wearing, excluding one of Logan’s flannels since the outfit they had been previously wearing was tainted by the cold snow. “4 blankets,” 

   “You need another one,” 

   “Logan-” 

   “(Y/N).” Logan growls, shoving the blanket towards them again. (Y/N) grumbles as they take the blanket, wrapping it around their other layers securely. With a pleased sigh Logan slumps down onto the couch, a few feet away from (Y/N). 

   “So, this is where you live?” 

  “Yeah,” Logan rasps, looking at his makeshift little home. “It’s the best I’ve got right now,” (Y/N) nods, humming as they look around. 

   “It’s…quaint?” Logan chuckles, sliding a hand down his exhausted face. 

  “You don’t have to lie to me kid, I know it’s bad,” (Y/N) smiles softly, chuckling just a bit. 

   “Okay, yeah, it’s bad,” Logan smiles, blinking lazily at his home. “Why is this…why is this the best you can afford?” 

   “It’s not easy to get a nice home when you’re being hunted,” (Y/N) looks at him, alarm flashing through their features. 

   “Wh-What do you mean?” (Y/N) asks, quivering for other reasons now. 

   “You ever heard of mutants?” (Y/N) nods their head, their gaze never leaving Logan once. “Well, we’re kinda going extinct, I’m one of the last ones,” Logan mutters, looking over his scarred hands indifferently. 

   “I uh- I don’t think you’re one of the last ones,” (Y/N) whispers, their gaze falling to their lap. 

  “Kid, I’m pretty damn sure I know that I’m one of the last ones-” Logan pauses when he looks around, a good chunk of his home items floating in the air, suspended their by some force. He looks to (Y/N) with a rather surprised gaze, his eyes glued to the way they titled their head, the objects in the room mocking the same power. “You’re one of us,” Logan mutters, his tone a lot softer than it had previously been. Slowly all the objects in the room float back down, settling into their respective places neatly. 

   “I was on the side of the road because I was running,” (Y/N) whispers, pulling their blankets around themself tighter. “Guess we’re kinda in the same boat,” Logan nods, pursing his lips in thought. 

  “I’ll be damned, I guess we are,” (Y/N) smiles a bit, one corner of their mouth twitching upwards just a bit. 

   “So…what do we do from here?” 

   “You’re gonna warm up and sleep, god knows you need it-” 

   “And then?” 

   “And then we’ll lay low, figure everything out as we go,” (Y/N) nods, their own lips pursing in thought. “But for now you definitely need some sleep,” (Y/N) nods, yawning at Logan’s words. They hadn’t realized just how tired they were until Logan had mentioned it. Now that he had they could barely keep their eyes open, every so often their eyes would flutter close only to flutter back open. (Y/N) tilts themself to the side, resting their head against Logan’s shoulder. They yawn again, closing their eyes for good now as they settle in against him, his warmth only adding to their slowly reviving limbs. 

   “G’night Logan,” (Y/N) whispers, ignoring the way Logan tensed under their touch. Logan looks at them for a minute before hesitantly reaching out to brush some hair out of their face, a small albeit affectionate gesture. Logan had only known this kid for a day and his mama bear genes were already kicking in, making him vow to protect this life with everything he had, almost what he felt with Rouge and Laura. With a soft, almost alien like smile Logan settled into the couch, making sure (Y/N) stayed tucked against his side either way. 

   “Good night (Y/N),” 

Daddy’s girl | JUGHEAD JONES X BETTY COOPER | SMUT PT ONE

REQUESTED IMAGINE!  @myterribletwenties  so it can start like when Betty and Jughead start taking things further, they start teasing each other in public as part of a bet of who can drive the other crazier to the point of no return, you know? It can be a smut series of like him pleasure-torturing her and vice versa until they finally have fun and kinky sex. I can see Betty being the one who drives Jughead craaaazy but idk it’s up to you on who you’d want to win. 


[ I kinda go with the plot anddd yeaa lets see what happens ] 

A/N: First thing first. I want to say how sorry I’am because I had an amazing vision towards this imagine but sadly I cant write it like I wanted to because I don’t have enogh time for anything. And I know you wait so long for it and 
I am so angry at myself that I didn’t give myself 100% for it. And its kinda making me sad and depressed = smad .
But I just hope you will like it. And tell me if you don’t like something. 

WARNING(S): Dirty language, swearing, smut af, daddy kink, teasing and mentions of smoking’ Betty Cooper is a SAVAGE  mentions of southside serpents like if we care. and mentions of Bryce Walker u know him. 
not edited yet

CHARACTER(S): Jughead Jones x Betty Cooper (mom and dad) 

Don’t read if you're under 18 (lmao just kidding again) 


Having an unspoken bond can mean a lot of things. Many people have the tendency to throw the term around to lovers, friends, and sibilings without knowing the genuine and authentic meaning behind it. 

Although, a meaning doesn’t have to be one with words. In fact, I believe a word that is expressed stronger through emotion is more meaningful that a word know by it’s definition from a world-know dictionary application just a click away. 

An unspoken bond can be shown in action, words, even colliding lips. It’s by the way they lean towards you a bit more to make you feel safe and secure. It’s by the way they know that you’re saying when your eyes are the only ones speaking. 

It’s magical. Yet, it’s the most dangerous and hear-on-the-line bond, because putting your entire self into one’s trust goes either ways: they hold onto you for dear life, or they let you burn. 

Now of course, I only came to think of this deep shit at half past one in the morning. I can’t sleepm and I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve had too much coffe to drink or because of this beautiful sight snoring his fucking brains out beside me. 

I slowly slide Jughead’s arm from around my waist to his side, slipping out of the sheets as quietly as I can. Before walking to the door, I slide off my pants, leaving me in my panties and shirt. Finally. I feel alive again. 

As the cold air hits my thigs, I stretch my back and walk to Jughead’s slightly open room door, slipping out with dangerous tip-toe’s. 

The only light coming from the darkness of the house is the single kitchen light hanging over the counter. I walk down the stairs, going straight for the fridge. 

I lean against the cold metal, scanning through the beverages until my eyes spot a familiar one. I grab two bottles of milk, settling them down slowly on the counter behind me. 

I latch the fridge back within itself before I take a seat on one of the stools surrounding the counter. Why I’m drinking milk at almost two in the morning? I don’t know. Am I enjoying it? Yes. The answer is always yes. 

I hear certain footsteps skipping down the stairs, soon revealing the undoubteddly messy dark locks and shirtless skin belonging to no other that him. I sit up straight, watching as he walks closer to me. 

My eyes meet his, though we both don’t speak. Instead, he grabs the bottle of milk sitting in front of me, eyes still not leaving mine as he chugs a good amount of it down his throat. His hand goes up to wipe the remaining around the corner of his mouth before he sets it down. Talent, my friends. 

I watch his naked back walk to the highest cabinet, reaching up and shoving off his toned body, muscles and all. I’d lick cake off him any time, any where. 

He reaches down after grabbing a small white box, still giving me his back as he fumbles with it. I assume it’s a cigarette box when he reaches for the lighter, the clicking sound of it evident through the quiet house. 

I turn my stool completely around to face his back, leaning elbows behind me as I watch him put the cigarette in his mouth, blowing it in the air towards the celling. I shouldn’t find this to describe for words, but in my defense, he can make a hot dog consume look hot. 

The smoke emitting artistically from his pouted pink lips, his naked skin glowing due to shine of the moonlight entering the house through windows and cracks. He’s beautiful annd he’s mine. 

Leisurely, he begins inching closer to me, the cigarette held between his fingers almost like it’s meant to be there. I can only imagine the times he’s smoked invisible to my presence. Does he smoke when he’s stressed? When he’s bothered? I crave knowing, even the littlest things about him. 

“What’s on your mind, princess?” his throaty voice inquires, suspending smoke into the air overlooking him. 

“Honestly,” I chuckle, “just you.” 

In swift seconds I feel his body is between my legs, a strong hand grabbing ahold of my head, fingers lacing into the roots of my hair. Tilting my neck to his liking. I feel his lips come into contact with mine tightly. The sudden action takes me by surprise, making me gasp. 

The way his lips move along makes me dizzy. I crave the way he latches his wet lips with mine so desirably like the last thing on his mind is letting go. 

My arms go around his waist in instinct, pulling him closer if even possible. His tongue enters my mouth, caressing and exploring, triggering a moan to escape my lips. Our lips keep a perfomance, heating the clousure of our bodies. 

His kisses become lower in pace, teasing me as he bites my lower lip, breathing into my mouth. I almost feel my knees buckling right then and there.. 

Jughead pulls away but keeps his lips at close proximity to mine, panting heatedly into my partet one’s. I gain feeling to his toned body pressed against mine, the sultriness radiating off his naked chest and shoulders. 

“Babe,” I mumble, pulling him back by waistband of his sweatpants, connecting our lips back together. 

I feel a chuckle escape his lips before his sweet taste fills my mouth once again. Peppering my sweet repeated kisses onto his lips, a smile forms onto his mouth. God, I could do this all damn day. 

“Baby,” he mumbles between kisses. “Let’s go for a ride,” he suggest, both of his hands easing from my hair and settling onto the sides of my neck, drawing shapes onto the naked flesh. 

“What?” I furror my eyebrows curiously. 

“I wanna take you somewhere,” he pulls back, confidence filling his posture and satisfaction in his words. He disposes the cigarette into the bin beside him, licking his lips afterwards. “Right now.” he determinates. 

Dammit, Jughead,” I groan. “I swear if it’s some new twenty four hour taco place like the last time, I’ll personally make sure you die mid-orgasm.” 

Ah, the true meaning of pleasure and pain. You know wha’d be funny? The cause of death: died halfway through coming. Lame ass. 

You know what’d be funnier? Saying “I’m glad you could come,’ to the guests at the funeral and having them reply. “Too bad your boyfriend didn’t.” 

I may or may not go to hell for the things I think at two in the morning. 

“Oh come on baby, now that’s just mean.” he shakes his head, faking sadness. 

I might be in love with him now but the urge to kick him in the balls hasn’t left since the day I met him. 

“It’ll be worth it, I promise and I can’t belive I’m gonna say this but I’m gonna go get you something to throw on, give me a sec,” he raies his finger, disappearing into his room up the stairs. 

Not even a minute later, he comes back with his torso fully clothed and his shoes on, carrying a pair of sleeping shorts I’ve left here once and my shoes. 

“I’ll go start the car, don’t be late,” he hands me the clothing pices, placing a sweet kiss to my forehead before he grabs his keys from the counter. 

I wiggly my feet into the shorts and pull them up, watching them hang loose and wide around my waist. Messily putting on my shoes, I follow him to the car, making sure to lock the door behind me. 

“You good, princess?” Jughead asks, holding onto the steering wheel. 

I shut the door, smiling in response. He does a double take, smilling at me in a question before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?” he inquires geninly. 

“Of course,” I lean into the seat. 

“You always had your hair up– when we met I mean, now you always have it down. You said you liked it up, but that wasn’t the case wasn’t it?” he smiles widely. 

A wide smile conquers my lips at his theory. It’s incredible how much he notices. I turn to him, my cheeks beginning to burn from smiling too widely. “Just drive, butt boy,” I fold my arms over my chest. 

“Your hair’s your guard, itsn’t it? You let your guard down for me, that’s why you let yourself wear it down around me.” he smiles, eye glistening and all. 

I let out breathy chuckle. “What can I say? You took my breath away.” 

He chuckles as he shaking his head in response. I hear him kick off the engines and begin his drive to whatever he want’s to take me at two in the morning. 

The streets are quiet, almost dead. I’ts crazy how at the same exact time right now at different places around this same place, everyone is in bed and possibly in the same position, asleep. 

The quietness echoes like seas of tranquility. My mind dozes off whike my body falls into the comfort of his warmth filling the car. I lean into the seat, making myself comfortable as i feel like this would be a long drive. 

Five minutes into the drive and I’m already feeling the need to throw myself outside this window. I cannot take this. 

Although the silence is comfortable between us, I can’t seem to get my mind off everything that’s happened right on the hood of this car. 

God damn, I remember is so clearly. His fingers, his talented, long, pleasureable fingers. They could do wonders, and I can’t keep my eyes off them tightened around the stirring wheel. 

I feel my mouth begin to gape apart, and so I shock myself back into reality, trying to focus on anything but the talented things he could do with that body. 

I sit up straight, sighing out in frustration before leaning towards Jughead’s side of the seat. I move my hand and place it on his thigh. “Jug,” I groan, gradually moving my hand upwards. “Where are we going?” I rub my thumb in circples into his inner thigh, seeing his arms tighten around the wheel and his back shoot up straight. 

“Almost there, princess,” he answers sternly, turning the wheel to a complete left. My hand stays on his thigh, mindlessly caressing his cloth covered skin. 

The car comes to a halt on the side of an unfamiliar road. There doesn’t seem to be life anywhere around a five block radius from this place. 

The lack of houses tell me this place itsn’t familly friendly. I can also tell from the strip club in the corner of this area. 

I look at Jughead in confusion, waiting for an explanation. He nods his head to me and unlocks the car doors, stepping out as he looks both ways. 

I follow his lead, stepping outsid of the car and going to Jughead’s side. Immediately, he takes a hold of my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine tightly before he starts walking, pulling me with him. 

Walking around the unknown area, Jughead’s hand hasn’t decreased in tightness. His eyes wander around the place every seconds before he pulls me closer. I only hope he isn’t planning on feeding me some jungle animals or something like that. 

We reach a gate, a big black one at that. Jughead uses his free hand to pull it up, giving me lovely viev of his perfectly build biceps. He holds it up, nodding at me to cross under. I do as told, waiting for him to cross under with me. 

The loud bang of th gate’s latching to the ground floor startles me, making Jughead to pull me to his side, rubbing his thumb over our already laced hands. 

“I’ve got you,” he unsures, moving us to another door located in the corner of the area into the gate. 

This place give me the chills. I don’t like it. 

I move behind Jugead’s shoulder, leaning my head against him as he contemplates the lock of the door. 

Presently enogh, I hear an opening sound. 

“Jug, you’re kinda scaring me,” I admit hesitantly, moving my head from his shoulder. 

He doesn’t reply, but squeezes my hand. A gesture that makes me wanna melt into him once again. 

We walk into a hallway, showcasing one the other gate door right in the center. 
Jughead turns to look at me, giving me a smile before his hand moves to push open the door. 

My mouth almost falls open as my brain registers the place I’m in. A wide open stadium with a fighting rink located in the middle of it. The largeness of the room is wide enogh to create schoes. 

I see blood scattered around the dirt floors, making me flinch to think about Jughead. An old bar is set in the left corner, seats for audiences are placed all around the rink, fitting more that three hundred people just for sitting. 

“Welcome in Southside S.” Jughead’s free arm opens wide, a smirk forming onto his lips. His movements come to a stop making me stand alongside him, taking in the area. 

“Those two weeks ago, when you didn’t go to school at all,” I turn to him, my hand still in his. “This was where you were?” I raised my eyebrow in pure curiosity. 

“Yes,” he nods. 

“Everytime you left, you were here?” i furrow my eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly. “I don’t regret not telling you about this. I knew it’d kill you, and I knew you’d try to stop me,” he shrugs, pushing his body closer to mine. 

“What’s his name?” I asked  

He shook his head closing his beautiful eyes for a moment “Bryce.. I have to fight with him, for my mom sake, babygirl” 

I let go of his hand, taking both of mine and wrapping them around his waist. He takes no time to bring his arms around my neck, rocking me back and fourth gently. 

“It’s not worth it Jughead.” 

“Look at me,” he mumbles, pushing his body even closer to mine. I keep my eyes down, not trusting myself to look into his. “Look at me.” he demands, pulling my chin up with his fingers. 

I bring my head up, eyes to eye with an angel in disguise, “He did some bad things, baby. He hurt my mom really bad” he states gritting through his teeth. 
“I will do anything for my familly and you. And I have to do this, especially if it’s something to ensure your satety.” 

“How many fights do you have left?” I inquire, barely a whisper in his ear. 

“Its not important. You know what, I’ll make fucking sure he doesn’t breathe your way either.” 

“Can I come?” I ask, pulling away from his hold with a wide smile on my face. Oh the things I’d do to watch Bryce get beaten up. 

“No,” he says immediately. “No, absolutely not,” he shrugs. 

“Come on,” I roll my eyes. I drive my lips to the base of his neck, kissing my way softly up to his jaw. “I promise I’ll be good. I just wanna watch Walker have his ass handed to him” I chuckl. “And think of all the ways I can wish you luck.” I tease. 

“That’s not gonna work princess,” he chuckles, kissing my temple gently. “Let’s go back to the car,” he sighs, re-intertwining my fingers with his. 

I exhale our frustration, knowing well enogh Jughead wouldn’t change his mind for shit. 

We stroll out of the place easily. Jughead locking the gate behind us before we make our way to his car. 

I slide into my seatt, folding my arms and rubbing my thigs together. Thoughts about have been swarming my mind the moment we left the house and I can’t seem to get rid ot them now. 

The way his strong tanned arms hold onto the wheel, as tight as his hands wrap around my thigs. The way he licks his lips when he’s focused, oh fuck, the things he could do with those lips. 

I feel the heat between my legs begin to increase as my stomach knots in frustration. I need his so bad. I’m afraid I’ll moan if he does as much as look at me. 

I keep my silence, breathing out gently and keeping my thigs tightly pressed together. Jughead doesn’t seem to notice my squirming beside him, although I’m about to explode in a few seconds. 

Minutes pass by my mind and eyes haven’t left his flawlessly sculpted body since. We get closer to his house but he slows the car down, making me groan out in vexation. 

“What is it baby girl?” Jughead speaks, turning his head to look at me with a smirk plastered clearly on his face. 

“Hm?” I attempt to look in wonder, my hands crossed over the obvious wet patch now sinking from my panties into my shorts. 

Suddenly, the car comes to a stop. Jughead’s hands harshly move from the gear before he turns his position coming forward and leaning both his arms on either side of my seat, hovering over me. 

“Tell me,” he whispers demandigly, his eyes moving from mine to my lips. Jughead licks his lips, making my heart thump resoundingly against my chest almost loud enogh for him to hear. 

I look up into his dominant eyes staring deep into mine. He doens’t move his gaze, demanding an answer. 

Sighing. “I need you,” I mumble inaudubly, looking down to my lap. 

“Come again, baby?” he teases with a tilt of his head and smirk evident on his lips. 

“I need you, please,” I whimper, locking my eyes with his. 

Holding himself to my side with one hand, he uses the other to wrap around the side of my waist, rubbng the skin softly as he gradually moves his hand lower. 

“Tell me what you want,” he traces his fingers in a ticklish motion towards my lower waist, wrapping his hand around the material of my shorts. 

Anything, just please,” I breath out, throwing my head up at the lack of contact

His hands abruptly moves to the center of my shorts. Jughead starts to move my underwear to the side, very slowly at first showing off my wetness clear and dripping for him, watching slosely to see my reaction. 

I groan at the cold air hitting my area, wanting any sort of friction against my sensitive throbbing area. 

“Look at you,” he chuckles, sliding his middle finger up and down my slit, spreading my wetness painfully slow. “Such a mess for me,” his voice deepens, lust filling his intentions as he slides a finger into my etrance, making me shift in pleasure in my seat. 

His eyes don’t leave mie, demanding me to keep my stare on his. His thumb joins his workings, pressing and rubbing onto my vulnerable spot. “Does this feel good, baby?” he purrs, panting heatedly into my lips. 

I feel his hard on growin into the tightness of his jeans , making me bite my lips surprising a moann too emit from my mouth. I may or may not faint. 

“Mhmm,” I pant, starting to feel my climax build up. My stomach starts to form a knot of frustration, driving me on edge. 

Adding another finger, he fastens his pace, eyes still not leaving mine. His lips sloppily fall onto mine, the wetness and heat of his mouth parting my lips unknowingly. 

Uhh, I’m so close,” I whimper , feeling myself come to an edge. My high almost rides onto me when I feel his fingers pull out. He leans back into his seat and begins to drive, leaving me a complete and utter mess. 

Hot and bothered. I pant out loudly, bitting my lip in frustration. I rub my thigs harshly together once again. “Fuck you Jug,” I moan, shuffling in my seat. 

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he smirks, fastening his driving speed. 

I move my shorts and underwear onto my highly sensitive area, wanting to feel any sort of release or friction against it. 

Minutes pass by feeling like hours when he finally puls the car back to his house. I angirly push open the door, coliding it back again with it’s frame strongly before I march to the front door. 

I open the door with ease, taking off my shoes and throwing them beside the kitchen place. Fuck. I’m gonna kill him. 

I hear the car noise indicating he’s locket it, soon following by his footsteps entering the house and closing the door behind him. He throws the keys onto the counter, eyeing my bothered and panting self with a snigger plastered onto his face. “Something bothering you, baby?” he fake pouts. 

“You know what, fine!” I put my hands up, shrugging “I’ll do it myself!” I huff, turning arund to march ip the stairs. 

I walk into Jughead’s room, purposely leaving the door wide open. I slide my shorts down my legs, pushing them aside with my feet before I place myself onto his bed. 

The previously messy sheets give me a feel of Jughead’s presence, driving me crazier that I have been minutes ago. He’s gonna pay for this. 

I lean myself over again the headboard, shutting my eyes closed and throwing my head back. I feel my back arch when I let my hand reach contact with my white lace covered wetness. 

This is the only time I’ll thank Jughead’s dad for leaving him here alone. 

I rub myself, humming in satisfaction. I move my legs upwards, pulling off my panties and shoving them onto the floor. I keep my eyes closed, my hands in-between my thigs over my bundle of nerves. 

I hear Jughead’s footsteps come closer by the second, getting me excited. I moan loudly, wanting to grab his attention. And no doubt, seconds later, his body appears at the front of the door, his eyes plastered onto my pleasuring hand. 

He bites his lips, coming closer to the edge of the bed. Jughead leans forward, placing his face right in front of my knees, his eyes filling up with lust and passion. 

I spread my knees apart, openin up my legs and shoving myself to him completely. He groans at my dampness licking his lips. 

The cold room air touches my heat, and the shine of the moonlight made it glisten somewhat. I know he couldn’t resist the sight of me at such an angle. 

He brings his face closer to my opening. I feel his hot breath panting in lust as I moan in complecency. 

I trace a finger up and down my slit in front of him, smiling to myself when I see his eyes widen in their desire for me. I play around the patch of wetness moaning when I press into it. “Jughead,” I moan, knowing well enogh how to tease him. 

Jughead’s stare fixates right onto my area as my fingers playfully spread the folds apart. “I want you so bad, baby girl,” he groans, palming himself though the tightness of his clothing. 

I take his pleas, drawibg out a long groan when I play out myself for him. 
“I thought patience’s a virtue, baby?” I smirk 

He watches intensively as I roll the pad of my pointer fingers around my swollen sensitivity, giving me a sensible feeling of pleasure. I can’t lie how much I want him. So badly. 

My teeth tug my bottom lip hard, trying to repress a groan at the sight in front of me. Jughead lustfully and beautifully begging. What a beautiful sight. 

My body feels like it’s on fire and I could feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I close my legs tightly in exasperation, wanting nothing more that feel relase, to feel him. 

I feel the heat of his panting at the top of my thighs, making me throw my head back at the close proximity of our bodies, with no satisactory contact leading to pleasure for either of us from one another. 

“Open up for me, princess,” he demands, eyes darkly looking into mine, gently caressing his free hand over the sides of my thigh. 

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? Punish me?” I reply back sarcastically arching my back in order to tease him. 

“Oh no, baby,” he smirks, pushing himself up on the bed, hovering over my entire body as our faces come lining each other. His hands keep him up, makin his veins pop out artistically from his biceps down to his arms. 

“I don’t punish. In fact, I’d like to make it up to you, princess” he tilts his head, licking his lips painfully slow for me to watch. 

“And how are you gonna do that?” I murmur, letting my lips brush onto his. 

Let my hands move to his neck, holding it lightly as I let my fingers play with the ends of his hair. 

“I plan on apologizing. First with my fingers,” his raspy voice speaks promisingly,” he places a featherlike kiss onto my top lip. 

“And finally,” he grinds his hardness onto my spread legs, making me whimper. 

His lips move to my neck, kissing so distressingly slow down across my jaw, licking and nibbling at the skin. 

I pant heavily while he hums against the base of my throat. “I’m gonna make you come so many times, you’ll be begging me to stop,” he smirks. 

Jughead cocks his head up. His hand moves to my jaw, holding it lightly. I feel his thumb come in contact with my lower lip, brushing his thumb over the soft skin roughly from one side to the other. 

“— and you’re gonna love every second of it, right princess?” 


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June 19 (pt. 5)

A shot rings out.


The Egos awoke only to find themselves in the depths of Dark’s void of perpetual blackness. Fear struck like knives into them because they knew what it meant to be here. They knew it meant horror and not just for them.

“Guys, we’re alright. We can make it. We can find a way out,” Bim gasped, reaching for the others in the black. He could hear them shuffling and their panicked breathing. There was Amy, then the Doctor, there was the Googles all huddled together, Silver, Ed, and King. Yandere, Bing, and the Jims were even there. But no Wilford. And no Host.

“W-what do we do?” Yandere asked, tugging on the back of Bim’s jacket.

Bim swallowed his fear. “We wait and watch for an opportunity. If Host and Wilford are out there, they’ll help us somehow.”


Someone’s knees hit the floor, and there’s a gasp.


Bim knew it was his chance when the Host managed to release Bim from the void while Dark was angered. Bim didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to find out what Dark had planned. Anything Dark came up with had to be public though, so he found one of the Google’s computers. And sure enough, there was Dark, trapping the audience in a game they could never win.

Dark controlled the questions. Dark controlled the answers. Dark controlled the Host. He had everything on his side.

Except for Bim Trimmer.

He knew he wasn’t the strongest Ego, but Bim fought. He used what abilities he had to sap Dark of his powers. Wilford and Mark began answering for themselves, if only briefly, and Dark’s shell began to crack, worse and worse each time.

Then the Host sent him a message through the computer. “He’s coming for you. They know it’s not Amy.” Dark arrived soon after with a vengeance. But Bim could take the blows. He was used to it.

He left Bim bleeding, assuming that the Ego would stay down. But Bim couldn’t leave the audience to fend for themselves, not against an angered Dark.


Mark screams.


Bim was subtler the next time. He diverted Dark’s attention, kept him looking the other was as Host sent messages to the audience, hoping and praying that they would listen and heed them. When the votes came in, it was obvious who they wanted dead.

It was obvious they had seen what Bim had seen. Mark didn’t create Darkiplier. He created a jump scare, a scary video to amuse his fans. The fans themselves made the monster, created a personality. Mark only shaped him. The audience were the Creator, and they held the power to save everyone.


Dark doubles over, catching himself from falling as blood pours from the wound in his chest. Mark gives another pained shout as the room around them turns from the basement of Ego Inc. to Dark’s void where Amy and the others are trapped and are very… very silent. Not one of them moves, suspended in the air above the others.

Host jumps to his feet, bringing the keys and unlocking both cell doors. Mark emerges from the one on the left and Wilford from the one on the right, returned to his old self once more. They take one look at Dark and Mark grits his teeth.

Wilford walks over to the other Ego, the only one older than him, and he puts a hand on his shoulder. They’d been together since the beginning, and now they’d be together for the end. “Not the conclusion you expected, I suppose?”

Dark wheezes, coughing up blood with a sickly laugh. “I-I can honestly say… no, it isn’t…” Wilford swallows hard as Dark sinks onto the floor into a pool of his own blood.

“I never wanted it to end this way,” he whispers, kneeling down beside Dark. “I wanted you to be able to change.”

Dark snarls, eyes blazing with dying light. “You know me better than that, Will. I’m stubborn.” Another wheezing cough, a shaky breath, and Darkiplier is dead. His body fades slowly from existence, and Wilford is left kneeling alone.

Once Dark is gone, the void disappears. The others are released from their trance. Amy runs to Mark, and they’re together again, in each other’s arms, like stars that always find each other in the night.

Bim staggers in, watching the scene play out, and only the Host approaches him. Bim quickly undoes the latch at the back of Host’s head to take the muzzle off of him. “Proud of me, Hosty?” Bim asks with a wince of pain.

“You’re stronger than I ever thought possible,” Host whispers.

Bim almost shrugs off the compliment as always, but this time, he lets himself enjoy it… just a little. “Not as strong as Dark, though.”

“You have what Dark could never have had,” Host says, glancing at the space on the floor where Dark once lay, “a heart of gold.”


Stay gold, cutie pies.

THE 48 LAWS OF POWER

I can’t be bothered to write it all down on paper so I am sitting here, sharing it with you instead, while listening to the Russian Orthodox Requiem haha!

Feel free to like & share it to serve as your own reminder. It’s useful as hell.

It is all from the book “The 48 Laws of Power” by Robert Greene.

Read on, my friends. For this is going to teach you many valuable lessons!

LAW 1 - NEVER OUTSHINE THE MASTER

Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please and impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite—inspire fear and insecurity. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.

Note: Yes. This is so important. Especially when it comes to dealing with MEN. Never outshine the MASTER.. oh boy, but how we do ;)


Keep reading

Movie Night Pt. 5

Girls Night Edition

Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2226

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Smut, swearing, fingering, dirty talk, biting, marking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), fluff and yucky love stuff.

A/N: I had 2 requests in my inbox for a part 5! Movie Night is so much fun! You don’t have to read the first four parts to know what is going on, but it would help! Words in italics is a memory, bold is text messages.

One - Two - Three - Four

Masterlist



“Let’s talk about Bucky!”

You picked up your wineglass and peeked at Natasha above the rim as you took a sip. You shook your head with a smile.

“This is the third time tonight that you have tried prying information out of me,” you said to the group.

“Well, if you were a little more forthcoming with details, we wouldn’t have to pry,” Pepper said, tucking her legs underneath herself on the couch next to you.

“You and Bucky have been so secretive, it’s annoying,” Maria said, swirling the wine in her glass.

“What has it been now?” Sharon asked from her spot on the floor. “Three or four months?”

You took another sip of wine before answering, “Close to four.” A bowl of popcorn appeared in front of your face, suspended in the air by a red mist. Startled, you grabbed it before it fell, “Jesus Wanda… scare someone to death!”

She laughed before sitting in front of you on the floor, back against the couch. “I like the way Bucky grabs her butt when he thinks no one is looking,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you with a wink.

Keep reading

A Touch Of Love, 1.

Genre | Romance / Valentine’s Day drabbles.

Pairing | Kim Taehyung / Reader.

Prompt“No, like– It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

Words | 1,099 words.


Kim Taehyung knows better than to expect you to be on time.

It is but a mere concept created by humanity! You will always exclaim as a feeble excuse to defend your indisputable lack of management when it comes to the twenty-four hours of a day. There is no doubt about it that you leave important, need-to-be-attended-to matters to the final, clutching seconds before they are due, and that a decent handful of minutes are lost between the spaces of your fingers, squandered to distractions and procrastination.

It is a behaviour that Taehyung hates to adore, a terrible skill that you have refined to the marrow, yet he cannot deny how unbearably endearing it is. Most especially when you arrive just on time, blood flushing your cheeks, eyes shining with the sting of the wind where it cut into the delicate film while you ran, the air punched out of your lungs though you still kiss him as though you are not already lightheaded enough.

Today is no different. Except it is. It is! Because today defines the anniversary that the one and only Kim Taehyung took you out on the first date of a drive-in theatre soaked in the hues of twilight and learned that you could point out all of the constellations in the sky and discovered what buttered popcorn tastes like when stuck in the crevices of your lips and how delightfully warm his hand feels when it is carefully positioned beneath lace in the opening created by your unbuttoned, unzipped jeans. The two of you found love underneath placid starlight in the blanket-laden tray of his ancient truck, a devotion that has been strung in unraveling silk, tied to the towball of the vehicle parked before a screen bigger than imaginable, laced around the bedpost of the room you first made unforgettable love amongst freshly washed sheets, knotted and bound in the landmarks that the both of you claimed as your own along the way in your venture of redamancy until this very moment right here. The third anniversary. Marking the longest relationship that Taehyung has ever had the rapture of being enamoured by, the sole one that he truly believes will continue on until his final breath on this earth.

And you are late. As per usual.

The coffee that Taehyung nurses in the comfort of the outdoor cafe awning is lukewarm by the moment that he notices the escalating soundtrack of sneakers slapping sharp against the pavement, loose pebbles crunching beneath the soles in their trek. And, in that time, there is not a moment to spare to turn around and spectate your approach for you are already skidding into view by the side of the table, a grin splitting your flustered features into that of a crescent moon, arms goofily lifted in the air and Taehyung just about falls in love all over again.

“Happy–” You dive onto his shores, collapsing the entirety of your weight onto his seated, gratified self and kissing him absolutely silly amidst your words– “Third– Anniversary– Lover!”

Taehyung cups your blushing features between his palms, framing beauty and the one thing in this world that he adores like no other, holding your catastrophic entity so preciously. There is honey still pressed to your lips and he yearns for more, bringing your mouths together in gentle intimacy until the rubescent simmer of your cheeks is suitably attributed to the way he dips his tongue into the parted seam of your lips, rather than the urgent sprint you made from the apartment to meet him on the cusp of his ending lunch break.

“You’re hopeless,” Taehyung teases, kisses you once more for good measure, public displays of affection be wholly damned. “Did you just wake up?”

Cheekily, you grin wider and slink away from his hold to position yourself in the opposite seat, red hands on unadulterated display. “Technically, it’s still morning.”

“For only ten more minutes, silly girl.” Affection inflects his tone, and now that you are right here, living and existing before him, the desire to abandon the remaining five hours of his shift to spend the day with you tugs earnestly at his heart. “You still taste of… Breakfast…”

The remainder of Taehyung’s sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as he gets a good look at you, a really good look, beyond the staring at your face that his eyes have been trained on doing since the second you arrived. Practically swallowing your torso is, unmistakably, his own sweater of black and white stripes, the hem tucked into the front of your jeans while the arms are cloaked in the denim of, yet again, his own jacket. The sheer nonchalance that flows confidently in your movements as you flick through a menu has him completely unsure as to whether you realise that you are currently wearing his clothes, or if the sheer rush of getting here enforced you to throw on whatever you could find without noticing the size difference in the attire.

“Is there something on my face?” And Taehyung, in his bewildered state, comes to realise that you are blinking at him, eyebrow raised.

“Ah– No, it’s just that… My clothes–”

A small bubble of laughter escapes your lungs, lowering your lashes to observe your fingertips picking at a loose thread on the cuff of the denim jacket, the tiniest smile nestled in the corner of your mouth. “Oh! Yeah, they are truly so comfy and they smell like your cologne, so I sometimes wear them out while running errands or visiting the university. I never realised you didn’t know! I hope you weren’t wanting to wear these tonight–”

“No, no– I just– They look unacceptably fantastic on you,” Taehyung gradually smiles, adoration swelling in his chest at the affectionate statement you so effortlessly declared. “You suit them more than I do.”

“Why thank you, but you know what they suit better?” You muse, and it is a trap that Taehyung, without realising, steps himself directly into as the sound of acknowledgement he creates is suspended in the air between you, and you are answering the cursed question with a smirk made for sinners.

“The floor.”

And let us just say that Taehyung never thought that the third anniversary with the love of his life would result in him nearly losing his job because he never returned from lunch. Though sometimes, love makes everyone enact upon ludicrous decisions – most especially for him when they are encouraged by the cunning, though adoringly beguiling likes of you.

Drabbles | One: KTH • Two: MYGThree: JHSFour: KNJFive: KSJSix: JJKSeven: PJM (Finale)

Writing Tips: Building Tension

My hands hesitate before the keys. They tremble, suspended mid-air as I strive to spin together a thought. Writing tips. Writing tips - what do I know? The glaring screen captures my attention as blood pounds in my ears. Slowly, slowly, I start to type…

Hey guys! Building tension is one of the most important parts of any story, and it’s important to get it right, so I’ve strung together a few of my top tips on how to put the reader in the edge of their seat.

1. Vary the lengths of your sentences.

I stare down the barrel of the gun. Its owner sneers. The trigger clicks, and I run, my hair billowing in the night air as my feet fly and I try to drag air into my lungs. I can’t outrun him.

An underdeveloped example, maybe, but do you see how I used a few short sentences, then a long one, then a short one? Play about with your sentences like this, it’ll make your reader feel more in the moment, which can only be a good thing, right?

2. Use (more than) five sentences.

Obviously you tell the reader what the characters see, this we know, but what about everything else? Tell us the little noises - the click as they swallow, someone’s rasping breath, the trickling of water. Details that make this more realistic. But perhaps that’s obvious too. Go deeper - I want to smell the stench of flesh as they search the bad guy’s lair, the sweaty odour before the big fight, the gunpowder after the warning shot. And deeper still! The icy bite of metal handcuffs as they hero tries to escape, the taste of smoke on their tongue as they search the smouldering remains of a building for survivors…

Let’s see: sight, sound, taste, touch, smell… Is that it? No! There’s the air pressure, temperature, muscle tension, pain, time, thirst and subconscious ones, like feeling presences near you. Use these to your advantage to truly capture your audience.

3. Put your characters at a disadvantage.

Your hero is in the forest, knowing the beast is nearby. The reader knows he’s going to outrun the beast because duh, he’s really fast. But oh no, the hero tripped on a tree root, he breaks his leg, as he hears the beast’s snarl drawing closer.

Or maybe their hands are still tied together as they make their great escape. Or they have to navigate their way to safety in the pitch black, unable to see a thing! This challenges your reader’s belief that everything will OK, thus creating fear and tension.

4. Cut down your word count.

The trick is to be concise. All of your ‘because’s and ‘she felt’s and ‘if only there were’s, consider getting rid of them. And all of your redundant sentences, the ones that just draw things out, delete them all. Only leave the raw, intense action and emotion to leave your reader desperate for answers. 

~

And there you have it! Hope this was valuable to you guys and you enjoyed reading, let me know if this was helpful. See you next time!

- Hazel

KIAN LAWLEY X READER

Jealous

anon request:  can you do a Kian lawley imagine where you guys are dating and your a youtuber and you do the yoga challenge with someone like Trevor or some other youtuber and Kian, JC, and Ricky are watching you guys and you guys get really close and Kian gets jealous but then you tell him that he’s the only one that gets to kiss you and it’s really fluffy THANK YOU !!!

photo creds: sensualkisses.tumblr.com

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“Owowowow,” you strained as Trevor adjusted your leg on his shoulder.

“I CAN’T SEE PAST YOUR BOOBS,” Trevor yelled from above you.

“We can do it,” you assured him, turning to check your position in the viewfinder.

Ricky snorted from the couch, and pulled out his phone. “(Y/N), stretch your arm out further,” he said, recording you.

You did as Ricky said, pleased to see that you were successful in recreating the yoga pose, but not for long. You began to shake violently under Trevor’s weight.

“I swear, if you even think of dropping me-” Trevor began.

You shook beneath him, your leg slipping, causing you to roll sideways, with Trevor collapsing on top of you. His hands flew out, grasping your hips as you toppled downwards in a fit of laughter.

“Ha ha,” Kian said sarcastically, “You can let go of her now.”

“Okay man,” Trevor laughed, offering you a hand back up.

You hopped back in place, “Okay, last one,” you panted in exhaustion.

JC stared at the computer screen, a smirk spreading across his smug face, “This one.”

“JC!” you groaned, looking at the extremely complicated position he’d chosen out.

“We got this!” Trevor laughed, bouncing up happily on his heels.

Kian glared at the screen, his arms folded over his chest, “I can find you a better one,” he offered grimly.

You sighed and shook your head with a laugh, “We got this,” you said, giving Trevor a big high five.

The pose required one person to lie on their back with their legs in the air as someone else climbed up over their legs, suspended in the air as they would rest their head on the first person’t feet, and their legs held up by them, too.

“Bottom,” called Trevor.

“Thanks for giving me the complicated part,” you grumbled under your breath.

Trevor slid into place, raising his feet up, “Get on me,” he smirked.

You snorted and slapped his foot, “Shut up.”

You hoisted yourself onto Trevor’s feet, and his hands came to your sides as he helped you up. He squeezed your sides causing you to writhe in frustration, “I’m ticklish!” you snapped.

“I know,” he smiled and slid his hands down to help push you up.

Kian glared daggers at Trevor, “Hey pal, wanna get your hands off my girlfriend’s ass?”

“His hands aren’t-” you started. “Never mind,” you corrected yourself.

JC tilted his head to get a better angle, “We should do this challenge together, (Y/N),” he grinned.

Kian gave JC a shove with a roll of his eyes.

“Sorry,” Trevor yawned lazily, fixing you into the right spot over him.

“Bit more,” you said.

You arched your back, Trevor taking your feet in his hands, his eyes blinking up at you.

“Have we done it!?” you exclaimed.

“Wooo,” Ricky hollered, “You bet!”

“Really? I think we should stay like this a second longer to make sure we’re doing it right,” Trevor teased.

“Let me down now,” you giggled.

“Oookay,” Trevor said, letting you fall from the air suddenly.

You yelped out, crumpling onto Trevor’s chest in a heap.

His hands shot up, catching you at the last second and holding you to his front.

“Jerk” you laughed and nudged him with your foot.

Trevor rolled across the floor so that he had you pinned beneath him.

“Please like this video,” you gasped for air, “And subscribe if you want Trevor to GET OFF ME!” you writhed.

“Okay, video over, good job,” Kian said, shutting off the camera.

“Buzzkill,” Trevor raised his eyebrow’s at Kian.

“How bout’ you let me go?” you panted.

“But tickling you is more fun,” Trevor complained, his hands pinching your sides.

You burst out into uncontrollable giggles, your head turning this way and that as you begged Trevor to let you go.

Without warning the pressure on your belly was gone, and you sat bolt upright in confusion. Trevor lay sprawled on the floor, and Kian stood above you, his hand extended.

“My hero,” you smiled and accepted his hand.

Kian smiled weakly, pulling you up from the ground and into his chest. You knocked his front, your head sliding over his shoulder, his own two arms slinking around your waist.

“Mm,” you cooed into his chest, startled by the affection.

JC whispered something at Ricky, who laughed and nodded.

“What?” Kian snapped at them.

“Is someone a bit of a jealous boyfriend?” JC challenged him.

Kian grimaced, releasing you and spinning towards JC, his nostrils flared.

“Come at me,” JC laughed, standing.

Kian made a move to shove JC, but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Kian, calm down,” you hissed.

Kian brought his brown eyes back down to yours, his body relaxing a bit. He sighed and shook his head sadly, before simply walking right out the room.

You pouted at a pleased looking JC, “Thanks alot.”

You followed Kian into his bedroom, where he sat perched on the edge of his bed.

“Hey,” you tried.

Kian ran his long fingers through his dark hair, his smile forced, “Hey.”

You sighed and gently shut the door behind you, sinking onto the floor on your knees before Kian.

He kept his eyes glued to his lap, so you bent forward and pecked his rosy lips gingerly to get his attention.

“Talk to me,” you whispered softly, placing a hand in his lap.

Kian’s lips twitched as he entwined his fingers in yours, his gaze holding yours.

“Don’t think badly of me,” he spoke nervously.

“Never would think of it,” you smiled and squeezed Kian’s hand lightly.

“I’m..I don’t know,” he paused, “I don’t like seeing you so close to other guys.”

You raised an eyebrow with a small laugh, “Really?”

Kian blushed furiously, “I don’t want to be the jealous boyfriend.”

“Are you?” you asked.

Kian coughed nervously, shrugging, “Yeah, I am.”

“Kian,” you giggled, pulling him close to your face, “Look at me.”

His eyes sad, he opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“Babe,” you smiled, “it’s okay to be jealous. But you have to know that I will never think of anyone the way I think of you. You, Kian Lawley, are mine, and only mine.”

Kian’s cheeks warmed under your cold fingertips.

“These lips,” you said, tracing your fingers gently around his mouth, “Mine.”

“Those eyes,” you smiled warmly, “Mine.”

“Every little thing about you, the good, and the bad, are mine,” you breathed.

Kian’s familiar smile crept up on his lips, “I’m the luckiest guy in the whole wide world, so I guess I’m just scared someone else will see what I see in you.”

You shook your head with a laugh, “Doesn’t matter, that won’t change the fact that I only want to be with you.”

Kian chuckled, swinging his head down and back up, his eyes glowing again.

“Wanna show me I’m yours?” he smirked cheekily.

“There’s my boyfriend,” you grinned, bending into his lips. You lifted yourself from your crouched position, Kian’s arms coming around your waist and pulling you up gently into his lap. You wrapped your legs around Kian’s waist, perched in his lap as your lips collided. You slid your arm’s around his neck, smiling into the feeling of his lips on yours, your fingers weaving through Kian’s hair. Kian pressed himself into you, his lips curving happily as they brushed against yours.

You pulled back, your eyes closed, but smiling wide.

Before you could open your eyes, Kian’s hands came to the small of your back, forcing you to bend back into him. He dropped a kiss on your lips, nose, forehead, and any skin he could reach. Your skin grew bright from the warmth of his lips all over your face. You opened your eyes, meeting Kian’s round and unblinking one’s. 

“I liked that,” you said, your eyes flickering across Kian’s face.

Kian did his adorable little lip bite that melted your heart into a puddle. 

“Then why stop?” he murmured.