tucking rim

Jughead & Reader: From The Beginning Part 1

Part 2 II Part 3 II Part 4 

Summary: You and Jughead have a knack for getting into trouble but the two of you have managed to stay above water. However, things start taking a dark turn for you and the only one there to help you through everything is Jughead Jones, your best friend you’ve been in love with since you were kids.

Requested by: my-emotional-self


Listen to: The Last Day at The Beach - Will Ackerman


“Do you think you’ll stay in Riverdale after we graduate?” Jughead asked as the two of you sat at the edge of the river at midnight, enjoying one another’s company. 

You kicked your legs in the water and shrugged your shoulders, watching the ripples in the water that disrupted the reflection of the night sky. “I hope not,” you admitted.

Jughead looked at you. “Where do you want to go?” He asked. 

You leaned back and rested your head on the soft blanket you always brought to the river with Jughead. He joined you, staring at the sky just like you were. “Anywhere,” you whispered as you tried to make out constellations in the sky. “What about you?”

He sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever make it out of Riverdale, no matter how hard I try.”

You frowned and rolled onto your side to look at your best friend. “That’s not true,” you told him. “If you don’t want to stay here, you don’t have to. You’ll be eighteen and no one can stop you.”

“Where would I even go?” He turned so he was on his side facing you. 

You brushed a few stray hairs out of his emerald eyes and tucked them under the rim of his beanie. “Go with me.” You smiled.

He laughed and looked down at the pattern on the blanket shyly. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, go with me,” you said, getting excited about the idea of Jughead being by your side, even after graduation. “We can travel around the country together and when we get tired of it, we can find some place to stay and work. Then when we get restless again we’ll travel the world.”

He smiled at you. “You like to dream, don’t you?”

You adjusted yourself so you were on your back, staring at the stars again. “It’s the only thing that keeps me sane nowadays.”  

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2

A Galaxy Far, Far Away D’Qar

An Outer Rim planet tucked behind the protective asteroid belt of the Ileenium System, D’Qar has a thick forest canopy and plenty of fresh water – the perfect place for a Resistance base. Its location is classified, although was discovered by the First Order after tracking Snap Wexley’s reconnaissance flight. D’Qar is the site of Leia Organa’s last moments with Han Solo – but where Finn reunited with Poe Dameron after thinking him dead.

missshortattensionspand  asked:

I don't know if you got my last prompt or if it was too terrible to use lol. But anyway maybe a ficlet about Hasil's first shower and Sally-Ann having to show him how everything works. It doesn't have to be in NSFW but I guess you can take it there if you want.

“Hasil, you want me to wash this shirt for you?” she yelled into the kitchen.

Sally Ann already had two shirts of her own to wash, along with several pairs of underwear, but she had seen his black tank top on the floor and wondered if maybe she should add it to her pile. The moment she picked it up, though, she knew for sure: there was still dried blood all over the front of it, and it was clear he had been wearing it for some time, stained as it was with sweat and dirt and who knows what else. Normally she loved the way Hasil smelled – sweet and smoky, like a wood fire on a cold night – but his shirt was a different story, and she wrinkled her nose a little at its pungency as she stuffed it into the pile of clothes she held in her arms.

“Hmmm?” he asked, emerging into the living room, dressed only in his long underwear. Hasil didn’t seem to mind walking around the house with no clothes on – in fact, there were times he appeared to prefer it – but he also seemed to sense that she would like it if he at least wore something, and on this, as with so many other things, he was more than willing to make her happy.

“I’m gonna wash your shirt,” she said, grinning cheekily. “It’s filthy.”

“Fine by me,” he replied, and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank ya.”

As if suddenly reminded of something, Hasil stretched his arm up in the air and turned his head so he could quickly sniff beneath it.

“May not be th’ only thing ta wash…” he said, looking a little bashful as he turned back towards her. “There ain’t no creek nearby, huh?”

“No, no creek,” she replied, her mind now spinning with delightful images of Hasil wearing absolutely nothing as he splashed around in some backwoods watering hole. “But I think there’s a shower upstairs…”

“Shower? ’s rainin’?”

“No, it’s, uh…” She stopped, unable to contain the grin spreading across her face. “Here, c’mon…” And then she took his hand, tugging him across the living room and up the wooden staircase.

The upstairs bathroom was beautifully old-fashioned – all white tile and chrome fixtures, even if it was all in need of a thorough scrub-down – and along one side there was a large claw-footed bathtub. At some point, though, for the sake of modern convenience, someone had added a freestanding showerhead and a curtain on a looped rod.

She pulled the curtain back and turned the faucet on; it gurgled a little, probably out of disuse, but quickly enough began to pour out a steady stream of water.

“How hot d’you want it?” she asked, turning back towards him as she tested the water with her fingertips.

“Hot?” he repeated, his face a picture of confusion.

“Right,” she said, laughing a little to herself. If he hadn’t known what a shower was, she realized, he probably wouldn’t have known that you could turn it to whatever temperature you wanted. “So, um, I’ll make it mostly warm…” That seemed safe enough, she reasoned: there was no need to traumatize him with scalding hot water.

After adjusting the dials, she pulled the curtain back in place, making sure it was fully tucked inside the rim of the tub, and then she turned the handle and watched as water began to flow upwards and out of the showerhead.

She turned back towards Hasil again, his head now tilted in unabashed curiosity.

“It’s all yours,” she said. Glancing past him, she noticed an unused bar of soap sitting near the sink on top of the counter, and she leaned over to grab it, quickly handing it over to him. “Here… you might want this…” Soap in hand, he stepped towards the shower, momentarily peering behind the thin curtain.

The spray of water was spattering softly against the back of the curtain and she could feel the small room growing warmer as the steam billowed in the air. It got even warmer as he dropped his drawers, giving her a sight of his magnificent bare backside, and then stepped into the tub, tugging the curtain part-way closed behind him.

“Ah, swee’ mercy,” she heard him gasp and cry out. For a moment, she thought he was in pain, as the water came into contact with his fresh bruises, but then she caught the faint line of his shadow against the white curtain, his body turning in place as he sought to fully immerse himself under the spray.

Sally Ann stayed for a minute, simply enjoying the sound of him experiencing the pleasure of a warm shower for the first time, but then she decided it might be best to just leave him to it. Downstairs, she set herself to tidying a little, straightening up the living room and bringing used dishes into the kitchen. There was, of course, the pile of clothes she had been intending to wash, so she left them at the bottom of the stairs with the intention of bringing them up to the bathtub to wash once he was finished. There was no washing machine in the house, unfortunately; Naomi had always taken her clothes to the laundromat, which was where she and Sally Ann had spent most of their time together outside of church. Sally Ann had sometimes helped with the folding, the older woman’s hands being so frequently swollen with arthritis, and she recalled the smooth feel of her flat sateen sheets, the fluffy towels still warm from the spin of the dryer.

With a sudden realization, she headed back upstairs and opened up the linen closet in the hallway. All the towels were neatly folded and stacked on narrow shelves, leaving nothing, she now recalled, inside the bathroom except a tiny, worn hand towel near the sink. Knowing Hasil, he probably wouldn’t think twice before using it to dry himself off.

Luckily, the shower was still running, so she grabbed one of the larger towels and went back inside the bathroom, intending simply to leave it on top of the toilet and let him take his time.

“Sally Ann, that you?” he asked over the sound of the water.

“Yeah,” she said. “I was just leavin’ you a towel.”

“Alright,” he replied. “So…uh, how ya turn this thing off, exac’ly?”

“Oh, uh, here,” she said, as she reached in and turned the faucet off entirely. The remaining water spilled into the tub as he pulled the curtain back, revealing a very clean and very naked Hasil Farrell. His skin was pink and flushed with the warmth of the water, the bruises and tattoos arrayed across his chest standing out in stark relief. She was so used to seeing his hair flowing in loose waves across his shoulders that to see it now, wet and flat against his head and straight down his back, brought a peculiar feeling to the bottom of her stomach, and perhaps even somewhere a little lower down. His eyes were half-hooded, his gaze gentle and hard and full of hunger as he looked down at her. For a moment, she let her eyes drop down past his chest, and then she raised them back quickly, feeling her cheeks grow round and warm.

“So… how was it?” she asked, handing the towel over to him.

“‘s fine… very fine.” He smiled as he stepped out of the tub, taking a minute to dry himself off and squeeze out the ends of his hair. He was wrapping the towel around his waist as he looked over at her again. “Thought maybe I migh’ convince ya ta join me nex’ time.”

“Maybe,” she said, moving her hand up so she could trace her fingers against the damp skin above his heart.

“Hmmm,” he murmured, pressing his hand flat against hers and keeping it in place. He leaned down towards her, his lips a shadow across her cheek, her jaw, the quiet sanctuary of her neck. In her chest, she could feel her heart thrumming, fluttering in anticipation. “I’ma hold ya ta that,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes, breathing him in, as soft and clean and new as the morning light.

2

Supernatural Cookbook:

  • Title: Apple Pie

Information:

Recipe:

Ingredients: 

For Pie Dough:

  • 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (2 ½ cups, non-lattice)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 7 tablespoons all-vegetable shortening, chilled (8 tablespoons, non-lattice)
  • 10 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled, cut into ¼-inch pieces (12 tablespoons, non-lattice)
  • 10 tablespoons ice water (6 to 8 tablespoons, non-lattice)

For Filling:

  • 1 ½ pounds Granny Smith apples (about 3 medium)
  • 2 pounds McIntosh apples (about 4 large)
  • 1 tablespoon juice and 1 teaspoon zest from 1 lemon
  • ¾ cups (5.25 ounces) plus 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • ¼ teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ¼ teaspoon ground allspice
  • 1 egg white, beaten lightly

Directions:

For Pie Dough:

  • Pulse flour, salt and sugar in a food processor fitted with steel bald until combined. Add shortening and process until mixture has texture of coarse sand, about 10 seconds. Scatter butter pieces over flour mixture; cut butter into flour until mixture is pale yellow and resembles coarse crumbs, with butter bits no larger than small peas, about ten 1-second pulses. Turn mixture into medium bowl.
  • Sprinkle 8 tablespoons ice water over mixture. With blade of rubber spatula, use folding motion to mix. Press down on dough with broad side of spatula until dough sticks together, adding up to 2 tablespoons more ice water if it will not come together. Divide dough into two pieces, one slightly larger than the other. (If possible, weigh pieces. They should register 16 ounces and 14 ounces.) Flatten larger piece into a rough 5-inch square and smaller piece into a 4-inch disk; (If for a non-lattice, double crust pie, these pieces should be even in weight and both round) wrap separately in plastic and refrigerator at least 1 hour or up to 2 days before rolling.

Pie:

  • Adjust oven rack to lowest position and heat rimmed baking sheet and oven to 500°F. Remove one piece of dough from refrigerator (if refrigerated longer than 1 hour, let stand at room temperature until malleable).
  • Roll dough on lightly floured work surface or between two large sheets of plastic wrap to 12-inch disk. Transfer dough to pie plate by rolling dough around rolling pin and unrolling over 9 ½-inch pie plate or by folding dough in quarters, then placing dough point in center of pie plate and unfolding. Working around circumference of pie plate, ease dough into pan corners by gently lifting dough edges with one hand while pressing around pan bottom with other hand. Leave dough that overhangs lip of plate in place; refrigerate dough-lined pie plate.
  • Peel, core and cut apples in half, and in half again width-wise; cut quarters into ¼-inch slices and toss with lemon juice and zest. In a medium bowl, mix ¾ cup sugar, flour, salt and spices. Toss dry ingredients with apples. Turn fruit mixture, including juices, into chilled pie shell and mound slightly in center.
  • Roll out second piece of dough to 12-inch disk and place over filling. Trim top and bottom edges to ½-inch beyond pan lip. Tuck this rim of dough underneath itself so that folded edge is flush with pan lip. Flute edging or press with fork tines to seal. Cut four slits on dough top. If pie dough is very soft, place in freezer for 10 minutes. Brush egg white onto top of crust and sprinkle evenly with remaining 1 tablespoon sugar.
  • Place pie on baking sheet and lower oven temperature to 425°F. Bake until top crust is golden, about 25 minutes. Rotate pie and reduce oven temperature to 375°F; continue baking until juices bubble and crust is deep golden brown, 30-35 minutes longer.
  • Transfer pie to wire rack; cool to room temperature, at least 4 hours.

For Lattice Top:

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Anchor :: Chapter 1

It’s up because I have no self control. ENJOY. Special thanks to kuno-chan, which-witch-is-witch, spiritypowers and officialrampion for being especially supportive of this fic.

Rated: T for violence, some language and sexual tension

Chapter 1

The waves lapped against the hull of the ship as a breeze rolled over the water. A man stood with one leg on the wooden railing around the ship, leaning over slightly next to the pulley that hoisted the anchor; the great weight was in the water, leaving only a thick metal chain to show for it. He gazed out on the horizon, squinting to make out the tiny rowboat making its way to his ship. Far beyond that was the Mainland, Port Bosco, with low rolling hills and a bustling marketplace. It was a good thing it was busy: everyone would have been too busy with their errands to notice a particular one of theirs.

“Is the girl there, Captain Kai?” his first mate Yung asked, as the pudgy man joined his side.

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Bloodlines Part 2 | The Ifrit

 As promised, this is a continuation of The Ifrit. If you haven’t had the chance to read it you can get caught up right here:

The Ifrit: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 

Bloodlines: Part 1


Spirits born of their own intent and free will, unless enslaved by another, the Efreet can be either good or evil.

However, they are more frequently depicted as choosing the latter.


The Letter

It had been three months since Dean walked out of the hospital and he was no closer to finding Rim.

With the third trial approaching he had been almost entirely consumed with taking care of his brother. Sam was getting worse; Dean would never admit it but the fainting spell in Colorado scared the hell out of him. He had never seen Sam so sick in all his life and there was nothing he could do about it until this was all over.

With their failed attempt to trap Abbadon they were having a time tracking down another Demon to test the purification spell they had found in the bunker. Dean watched Sam shiver out of the corner of his eye from the adjacent desk in the library. He hadn’t eaten in days and rejected every offer of help.

Sam wasn’t invincible. Whatever they were going to do they had to do it soon or he might not make it to the third trial. Dean refocused his attention to the tabletop littered with information from the archives. He felt his heart lurch as his gaze drifted over a folded and worn letter.

Rim’s letter.

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Preference #13 - You're Set Up With Him (Requested)

A/N: This was supposed to be “your sister sets you up with him even though you hate him, but eventually you fall in love.” And that was just a little too specific for me to get five scenarios out of, so I played with it a little bit. It’s super long (like 1600+ words long), so enjoy your first preference in about a month!

Harry: Harry Styles doesn’t hate people. Most people weren’t even sure hate was in his vocabulary until you came along. For whatever reason, something about you just…ugh. He doesn’t even have words for the way you get under his skin and set him off. But you’ve got mutual friends who utterly resent the fact that they ever introduced you because all the two of you do is bicker and fight and maybe throw a bottle or two if there’s beer involved. You’re fire and ice, and the result is steam. You’ve been slacking in the dating game lately, and it’s with the hesitant resignation of someone who hasn’t been on a date in three months that you agree to get set-up by Louis. You spend a couple hours picking out the perfect dress and curling your hair. In fact, it takes you so long to get ready that you’re fifteen minutes late and bursting into the restaurant and getting directed to your table. You’ve stripped out of your jacket and slung your purse over chair and have spewed out an apology before you get a chance to check out your date. “There’s no way in hell,” you spit out between gritted teeth. Because sitting in front of you looking just as shocked as you feel is Harry Styles. “Louis,” he mutters under his breath with a shake of his curls. “Should’ve known he’d pull something like this.” “Well,” you say, standing up again, “I think I’m going to leave now.” A pair of long fingers wrap around your wrist, and even his touch sends uncomfortable electric jolts shooting up your arm. “Wait.” “For what, Harry?” He reaches into his wallet and pulls out a sleek, black square of plastic. “Lou gave me his card. We might as well use it.” “In that case, might have to order the caviar.” “You hate caviar.”  “For 50 quid an ounce, I’ll love it.” And Harry’s eyes light up green as he chuckles. You’ve never really noticed that light before, but it adds an enticing texture to his face. A dinner without shouting might not be that bad. 

Liam: Your last boyfriend turned out to be a cheating bastard. The boyfriend before that had been stealing from you, and your prom date… Well, turned out he was sleeping with your best friend. Your mess of a dating history spoke for itself, so it didn’t take much for you to agree to a blind date. Your friend has assured you that he’s nice and clever and decent and not like anybody else you’ve ever met. (And, hey, if nothing you’ve done in the past has worked out, why not try something new?) With knocking knees that may or may not be due to the five-inch heels you’ve been thrust into, you step into the tiny Italian restaurant you’d been given directions to. The hostess leads you to a tiny table tucked into a corner, and you’re surprised to find that you’re the first one there. For such an honest, decent, upstanding guy, you figured he’d be Golden-Retriever-on-time. A waiter hands you a menu, and just as you’re about to order the Italian soda you might have been craving all day, there’s a flurry of commotion as a bustling figure slides in with smoothly accented apologies. He unwraps a scarf from around his neck and shakes the snow out of his beanie. “Sorry, work ran late and traffic was a nightmare.” And then you get a good look at his face, and holy shit…that’s Liam Payne. His cheeks are a little red and his nose is painted pink. His hair’s fluffed and ruffled, and the collar of his button-up is slightly askew, but that’s definitely Liam Payne sitting across from you. He extends a hand across the table with a soft smile. “M’ names Liam, Liam Payne. Pleasure to meet you.” There’s a tingle of something slipping between your fingers as your skin makes contact. “Where do you want to start?”

Louis: Oh God, everybody knew about Louis Tomlinson. He’s clever in that mouthy, witty way that makes your head spin a bit with its genius. His presentations at the front of the class are not the most educational, but they are the drollest and they make you smile in the middle of a crappy day. And of course, the funny man doesn’t know the shy girl who’s too scared to open her mouth and say hello. So you watch from the back row with a soft smile when Louis launches into an amusing diatribe about the one time his sister tried to throw a surprise party but ended up scaring him so badly he wound up with a concussion. It just so happens that you’ve got an older sister who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who’s got some pull with Louis, and well, she’s tired of hearing you wax poems and whine about how clever he is and how handsome he is and how he’s such a great big brother. She’s worked a Christmas miracle, and you’re heading out to dinner and a movie on Saturday night. The unattainable funny man appears at your doorstep at seven pm sharp with a sunflower in one hand and smushy smile on his face. “Hullo. Got this for you.” He extends the flower in your direction, and you hide your blushing face behind the petals. “You didn’t have to…” “Nonsense.” Lou grabs your arm and drags you after him to his car. “A beautiful girl deserves an almost as beautiful flower.” He shakes his head a little and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Wow, that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said. Seem to lose my tongue a little when you’re turning pink like that. How ‘bout we just go to dinner where I’ve got time to form proper sentences.” His warm fingers squeeze yours as he opens the car door for you before running over to the other side with a subtle skip in his step.

Niall: You’ve known him for ages, the cliché of diaper buddies and playdate pals who survived primary school. Now you’re braving the wilds of uni together, and he’s the one always going out and meeting people and being the vibrant, center of life that seems to draw people to him. You, on the other hand, tend to hide up in your room in fuzzy socks with a book you’ve been meaning to catch up on and some TV murmuring in the background. You’re shy and nervous around people because, well, Niall really was your only connection to a social life. You’re not very good at making friends and you’re not very good at loud parties even though he’s dragged you out for a decibel-shattering birthday once or twice. The pair of you are mean charades partners and drinking buddies and clever confidants, but it’s no secret he’s always yearned for something more. Drunk, he gets a little handsy with grabby fingers digging into your hips and warm breath fluttering over your neck. But you’re always quick to push him off and remind the swaying blonde that you can’t do this, that you’ve talked about it before and you’re not ready for the whirlwind that’s Niall Horan. But that doesn’t stop your friends from being conniving shits who convince you they’ve got this perfect fellow lined up for you. Oh, he likes to read and he knows how to play Cranium and he’s fluent in Yiddish curse words. What’s not to like? You’ll be fine. Really, you will. So, you slip into your most flattering skinny jeans and a sweater that’s just slack enough to look casual while remaining in style. And just as you’re sliding on a pair of boots and running your fingers through your hair, the doorbell rings and you rush to answer it, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in the pit of your stomach. He’s standing there—hands shoved nervously in his pockets and one of those ridiculous snapbacks slung low over his face. His cheeks are a bit pink, and you know he’s been chewing on his lip. “Heya, Ni.” “Hiya.” “How long have you been planning this?” He smirks. “A while. You gonna let me take you out?” “Well, you’ve put so much effort into orchestrating this, it’d be a shame to let it all go to waste.” “That’s true. I’ve got good stuff planned.” “Lead the way, then.”

Zayn: His parents and your parents are business partners, and they’re looking to make a new merger. And it’s a bit old-fashioned and a little archaic, but your mother and father, well, they’d like you to go out with the lovely Malik boy. You’re expecting a snubby, thick-rimmed glasses, tucked-in polo of a boy who mutters and stutters when you answer the door. But instead, standing before you is something the Greeks would have revered as a god. There should have been statues of his face and the subtle curve of his eyebrows and the soft swoop of his dark hair. And God, he smelled like a man—of aftershave and leather and cigarettes. “I guess we’re doing this, then?” he asks, giving you a subtle look up and down. “It’ll make the parents happy. Might as well.” You were trying to remain casual, desperately attempting to keep forming words and putting one foot in front of the other as you walk down the front steps and into the street where a glittering motorcycle is waiting. “You drive one of these?” “Got a problem with it?” “No, I’ve just never been before.” He chuckles under his breath and hands you a silver helmet. “Put this on, and I’ll show you a good time.” Zayn revs the engine and nods his head to the empty seat behind him. You slip in behind the leather jacket and hesitantly wrap your arms around his waist. “Hold on,” he mutters, and then you’re off with the wind in your face and the traffic melting around you. This boy might be the death of you, but hell if you weren’t going to enjoy the ride.

ohnooo-niall  asked:

Niall blurb/one shot? Where you go to a football game with him? Or You visit his home back in Ireland for the weekend? ;)

Victoria! Thank you for this request! I’m going to change it up a little bit, and rather write about a football game, I’m going to write about him going to the US Tennis Open. Because I can totally see him being all cute and lovely at something like that! xxx

“You are going to absolutely love this, babe. It may look boring on the TV, but trust me, it’s really fun,” Niall smiled, his fingers laced with yours as you started making your way into the venue. Fans were squealing, laughing and pointing to where you and Niall were shuffling into the entrance area of the venue, almost being pulled apart as people began to push through to get to their seats. “Keep hold of my hand, okay? We’re going to meet Liam and Andy at the bar, and that’s where it tends to get more hectic,” Niall whispered, ducking his head down to your head and pressing his lips to your ear.

You gave him a soft nod, and squeezed his hand tightly. You followed in tail as he made his way through the crowds of males huddling together before the tennis games began. Plastic cups full of beer in their hands, laughter erupting from their throats and their heads thrown back as they bellowed out. You’d never been to a sports event before, so you hadn’t a clue how rowdy they’d get. You’d heard from Niall that there was a lot of chatter, and yelling when favourites were winning the matches, but you hadn’t a clue how loud it really was.

“What would you like to drink, babe? Coke? A pint? What about a blue WKD?” You heard his Irish accent come above the chatter, the bar coming into view with a smiling and waving Liam and Andy catching your eye. His hand dropped from your hold as he braced himself against the dark wooden counter top, beside Liam.

“I’ll just have a coke. Oh, and a bottle of water,” you smiled, the feeling of an arm across your shoulder making you look up to the taller man who had engulfed you into his side. Andy looked down with a smile on his face, sunglasses hiding his eyes and his facial hair trimmed neatly and his hair styled much better than when he left it alone. 

“Hello, darlin’. It’s great to see you again. How you feeling about your first tennis game?” He wondered, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he let you snuggle into Liam. He smelt like the cologne you and Sophia had picked out together, for his birthday, the smell captivating and musky smelling. A smell you wished Niall liked. 

“I’m feeling good. I’ve been told by Niall that they aren’t as boring as they seem, so… I’m hoping he’s not lieing,” you giggled at your blonde haired boyfriend as he looked over his shoulder, and raised an eyebrow. “He has a tendency to lie just to get me to come along with him,” you stated, and felt Liam’s chest vibrate as he laughed.

He did have a tendency to lie to you. You remembered when he wanted to take you to see a movie, a horror movie to be precise. He’d told you that Louis and Lottie had been to see it, and he explained that the movie wasn’t as scary as it looked. Believing him, you went along to the cinema with him, going full out as he brought the popcorn and the slushies and the chocolate; and now that you think about it, he was going full out because he felt guilty he was taking you to a horror. A horror you didn’t want to see in the first place.

“If it comes from me, I’m telling the truth. Honestly. It’s not as bad as it seems, I promise,” Liam reasoned, letting you go as Niall turned back around. People seemed to be pushing through, as more and more people entered the bar area to walk through to their seats. You felt yourself being pressed against Niall more as people swayed to let people past. Not that you minded. You loved being close to him.

You snaked an arm around his waist as you buried your face into his chest, your head tucking nicely underneath his chin. Your bottle of water was held in his hand as you held onto the plastic cup of coke in your own hand, the rim tucked underneath your upper lip. 

“Shall we head off into the arena to our seats? Otherwise it’s going to get hectic, and there’s a chance we’ll separate,” Andy suggested, as Liam hopped off the bar stool and followed Andy through the crowded area. Niall’s arm fell from your shoulders as he slipped the bottle of water into your bag and dropped his hand to yours, sliding his fingers through yours.

* *

You couldn’t help but sneak glances at Niall every once in a while, his arm snugly placed across your shoulders as you nestled into his side. His other hand held tightly onto the plastic cup of beer, as your free hand held onto your near empty cup of coke. The games had only just begun, and Eugenie Bouchard was up against Dominika Cibulkova in a challenging and tense match.

His facial expressions were your favourite as he furrowed his eyebrows when Eugenie lost the point. A smile lifted the corner of his lips when she won the point, the arena erupting into cheers as she thrust her fist into the air and screamed out - a muffled scream by the time it reached your ears.

“Niall, I’m going to pop to loo quickly. I didn’t go before we left and I never had chance to go before we sat down,” you giggled, watching as his face turned to look at you. You gave his thigh a pat as he kicked his other leg from his bent knee and dropped his foot to the floor. 

“Do you want me to come? I don’t like you wandering around in the bar area. I can miss the match for 5 minutes,” he suggested, standing up with you as you shuffled in front of him and stood on the steps, shaking your head. “Are you sure? You might get lost. Let me come with you, just in case,” he reasoned, as he began to take steps out of the seating areas. You giggled and shook your head, pushing his shoulder back.

“I am capable of going to the toilet on my own, babe. You don’t need to follow me just because I’ve never been to something like the before,” you smiled, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. 

“Horan! Sit down, mate! She doesn’t need her daddy looking after her,” Andy teased, causing your eyes to widen and a blush to form on your cheeks. You mentally cursed Niall for being so loud the previous night, with Andy’s hotel room beside yours and Niall’s. “Seriously, let your baby girl go.”

“Andy, shut the hell up,” Niall muttered, pressing his lips in a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay safe. If you’re not back in 5 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“Okay, baby. I promise, I’ll be fine,” you smiled, squeezing his hand, and bringing his knuckles to your lips. “I love you. See you in a bit. I’ll get you another beer while I’m at it,” you grinned, dropping his hand.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and watched you skip up the steps and disappear into the bar area. Once you’d gone from his view, he turned back to Andy and squinted his eyes. The corners crinkling. “You need to shut up. She’s already nervous being here, don’t make her feel embarrassed too,” he muttered.

“She didn’t seem embarrassed last night, Niall. I had to put some music on to drown you horndogs out,” he winked, as Liam chuckled and kept his eyes on the game in front of him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up,” Andy whispered, a smirk on his lips.

“Thank you.”

One day, one rhyme- Day 449

A man went rolling past today,
He didn’t make a sound.
He was a flash of white and grey,
His presence did astound.
He rolled inside a tractor wheel
Tucked tight inside the rim,
He raced along, head over heel
I wish I’d followed him.
And now I sit here pondering
The transport he obtained,
Why choose that mode of traveling?
It’s kept me entertained!

6

I’ll start with some of my favourite GX81 Chasers.

Mugimaru’s 81 (the one with the HippoSleek side step ) is super rad, 8.0 J F and 8.5 J R SSR with 165/55s all round. Thats a super cool tyre to run because it has allowed him maximum low down (about as much as me with my 195/45s ) yet he can tuck rim a bit more because of the extra profile. The other 81 is Takasaki’s. it’s a very similar setup, 1G-G (GX81-BTMQF) and similar wheel sizing. He is running slightly skinnier wheels which makes it look much less aggressive along with the lack of Side step. I do like the factory front lip on it though, part the reason I got one on my car. Next post I’ll continue on 81 Chasers and some more of my favourites before moving onto Cresta and MARK II.