#I mean it’s just Niagara Falls but STILL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elodieunderglass · 1 year

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the first chapter of Moby Dick rewritten in tiresome modern idiom

CHAPTER 1. Loomings.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - it's none of your business how many - being mostly broke, and bored with the land part of the world, I thought I would sail around a little and look at the watery part of the world. I'm probably the most mentally healthy person you know. Whenever I feel my face getting grim; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself accidentally reading the ads in the window of funeral homes, and following funeral processions through traffic; and especially when I'm hangry, and only my extremely strong moral principles stop me from deliberately going out in public and methodically slapping people's earbuds out - then I know it's high time to get to sea, ASAP. This is my substitute for getting in fights. I'm too mentally healthy to kill myself; I quietly and considerately put myself on a ship and sail myself away instead. There is nothing surprising in this. Everyone feels exactly the same way, and if they don't, they're lying.

You think I'm lying? Exhibit A: a city. Go to your local coastal city. Everyone is looking at the water. They drive over from other neighborhoods just to come to the water. They make a day of it. They're not doing anything, they're just staring at the ocean. Why? Is it because they all work office jobs? No! Here come more of them! They cram themselves up to the edge of the water and stare at it. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT. Perhaps the ships themselves all packed together, each one with several compasses on it, creates some kind of critical mass - all of the small compass-magnets on all the ships in the harbor combining into one really big magnetic field - and the people get sucked into the field and trapped there. That's science.

Exhibit 2: the countryside with lakes in it. Every path you follow in the countryside brings you to some water, such as a stream. There is magic in it. If you take your standard fool with ADHD dissociating in the middle of a supermarket and put them outside and give them a shove, they'll automatically lead you to water (if there is any nearby) (try it). Another good experiment to try is to get lost in the great American desert in a caravan supplied with a metaphysical professor! Try it in the great American desert at home!

Yes, as everyone knows, meditation and water are a match made in heaven. Married forever. That's science.

Here's an artist who wants to paint you the dreamiest, most enchanting landscape. What does he put in it? Trees, meadow, cows, a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, obviously. He will probably put a path in it and make lots of triangular mountains in rows and have them be different shades of blue (naturally.) But there's gotta be a stream in it. Go visit the prairies in June, and wade for forty miles through knee-deep through tiger lilies. What's missing from this picture? Water!

If Niagara Falls was made of sand instead of water, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why would a guy given a handful of cash have trouble deciding whether to buy a coat (which he needed) or go to the beach? Why are all the best, healthiest, sexiest and most mentally healthy people obsessed with the sea? (You get me.) When you were first on a boat, did you not succumb to VIBES? Consider ancient Persia. Consider ancient Greece. They understood about vibes, and also gods.

SURELY ALL OF THIS IS NOT WITHOUT MEANING.

And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all! You get me! You understand it now.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I get weird, don't you dare imply that I buy a ticket and get on a boat. I have never had money in my life. How dare you. Anyway I don't go as a passenger - that's bougie, and something boring people do. Passengers never have a good time. And although my C.V. is incredible - I go to sea SO MUCH, you guys, I have lots of experience - I don't go as a boss, or a cook. That sounds like far too much work. Hard work. Disgusting, respectable, bougie, and far too responsible. I can literally only look after myself. Do not ask me to look after ships or shit. In fact, I have only a vague idea of what a ship is. There's so many different kinds of ships - don't get me started and DO NOT GET INVOLVED. Also, I'm allergic to glory.

It's kind of attractive to go as a cook. I mean, I'm allergic to glory and there's some glory attached to the position of the ship's cook, but, like, you're not management-track and so it's still credible. But I don't really want to cook (say) roast chicken. I really fucking love to eat roast chicken. I'm one of the best at doing it actually. I really appreciate when people go out of their way to butter, season, baste and roast a chicken for me. Picture a roast chicken and I am Looking Respectfully at it. Maybe something more, maybe I'm worshipping it. Don't make this weird. If you want to get weird about my relationship with roasted chicken, why aren't you getting weird about the ancient Egyptians? They ate roasted hippos (look it up) and the pyramids were basically pizza ovens. So it's pretty hypocritical to think that I'm being weird about roasted chicken when I've never made mummies out of chickens or built a religious pizza oven dedicated to honoring them: check and mate, haters.

Anyway - I like to go to sea as a manual laborer. A simple sailor. Salt of the earth… er… sea. Yeah, true: as a job it sucks. They make you jump around, order you around, treat you like shit. They expect you to jump around the boat like a grasshopper. And yes, at first, this sucks. It's degrading, especially if you come from a middle-class family. Worse, it's awful if you've already had some kind of professional job before signing on to be the dirt on the boss's boots - like, if you went to college and worked as a teacher and actually got kids to pay attention to you, really feeling this connection to work/teaching/identity or some shit, and now you are just literally the scum on this captain's boots, in the lowest possible job in the world. It hurts! It hurts your dignity. But the hurt, and also the dignity, both wear off in time.

So what if some old bastard sea captain orders me - ME! - to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, compared to the shit in the Bible, compared to the shit in the news, compared to the shit everyone else has to take. Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. We're all just serfs under capitalism, right, so why not just be honest about it: I prefer the honesty. Anyway, however the old sea captains may order me about - slapping and punching of course - I have the satisfaction of knowing that it's the same experience everyone else on Earth has, but more honest. Everyone else in the world is being served the exact same way. Either in a physical or a metaphysical way - sometimes people get the shit beaten out of them in person, sometimes online, sometimes emotionally, it happens to you in EVERY JOB, you sign on to get pushed around and slapped in the teeth: so the point is that when you're a sailor, it's a clean and honest slap. All the workers of the world share the same universal slap to the face that gets passed round, one slap passed all 'round the chain, like paying it forward, but it's a slap; and we should all accept this Universal Slap as the price of living, and then offer each other healing back massages, brother to brother, and slap each other and then kissed the places we slapped, and be happy.

I could examine that but I'm not going to.

Anyway: I always go to sea as a sailor. I've said that already. You're welcome. BUT THE POINT IS, they pay you. If you're a passenger, they don't pay you, at least, not that I've ever heard of [citation needed] (do they pay passengers?? Is there a job I can get where I can be a passenger and get paid?? Look this up.) Yeah so passengers have to pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. (That's Adam and Eve. You get it.) But BEING PAID. GETTING PAID IS THE BEST. NOTHING COMPARES TO GETTING PAID. EVERYONE LOVES THAT SHIT. Which is surprising, since we also apparently believe that money is the root of all evil, and isn't there something in the bible about "no rich people can get into heaven," right? And yet it's universal, literally everyone loves payday. Ah! How cheerfully we send ourselves to hell.

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor (I've said this already) because it's FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE. Okay so think about ships. Normally, bosses stand on the "bridge" thing, and because we're sailing a boat, the nose is going into the wind and the butt part of the boat is at the back. That's how wind works. But if you think about it, winds usually go in one direction more than other directions (unless the men have been eating beans and farting: it's Pythagoras, look it up) SO if you're a boss standing on the boss-deck, the wind is blowing FROM the sailors TOWARDS you, and YOU ARE ACTUALLY BREATHING THE AIR THAT SAILORS ALREADY BREATHED. The boss THINKS he breathes it first, but he doesn't. He gets the air at the BACK of the boat and sailors get the air at the FRONT. So it's better to be at the front of the boat (sailor) for health reasons. This is a metaphor for life and work, etc.

But I have smelled the sea lots of times as a paid sailor and WHY I should decide to go on a whaling expedition - ok so you know how there's an invisible police officer of the Fates who has me under constant surveillance, who secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way? YOU get me. You know him. "The poor FBI agent tasked with reading my search engine history" YOU GET ME. Anyway, "Ishmael, why, after having a perfectly well-reasoned, and very smart of you, part-time job as a spontaneous random sailor, did you decide to escalate that to joining a WHALING EXPEDITION, which is worse in every way?" Well, ask my fucking secret FBI agent, he can answer better than anyone else. Including me. You get me. Also, obviously, this was predestined, part of the Universe's Grand Programme for its talent show, which was all scheduled way before our time. The concept of sending me on the whaling voyage comes in as a kind of interlude or solo between the main performances of the Universe's great talent show. I bet it was advertised llike,

"PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF THE UNITED STATES EMBROILED IN ONGOING LEGAL DISPUTE.

Whaling voyage by some guy called Ishmael.

BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN."

Like a commercial break in between the big acts. A filler episode. Lightens the load for everyone else. Though I can't explain why the stage managers - the Fates - chose such a shitty role for me, a WHALING VOYAGE of all things, when it feels like others were given magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - it seems a little unreasonable at first. Why doth Ishmael get shat upon, etc. But then I think about all the circumstances, the plot points and motivations that were cunningly presented to me under various disguises - FBI agents, bouts of random hanger, gay awakenings, you get me - and you can see that actually, I was set up. And worse, between them all, these Fates and Circumstances conspired to make me believe it was all my own choice and good judgment. Is Free Will an illusion? Are my decisions bad? We will NEVER know because I, Ishmael, am just a little guy that the Universe plays head games with.

One of the ways the Universe tricked me into starring in this performance and then mocking me for it was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself (whaling expeditions usually contain whales.) Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then of course, if you have a whale, you have the wild and distant seas where the whale rolls around with his body-the-size-of-an-island; the dangers and nameless perils of the whale; whales are also found in interesting places I haven't seen; this all tipped me over the edge. Maybe normal people could've resisted, but I am tormented with an everlasting itch for obscurity. I hate everyone else's oceans. I want the forbidden seas.

You know The Horrors? Of course you do. You might be surprised that I, the most mentally healthy person you've ever met, a person who is self-aware enough to go to sea when they're at their fucking limits, a guy who likes fresh air and manual labor and normal things, is familiar with The Horrors. Well, you'd be surprised. I know what's good, I'm an extrovert. But I'm still quick to perceive The Horrors. And how I deal with the horrors is a very extroverted thing: I'm social with them, if they'll let me. It's smart to be on good terms with The Horrors. You should always be on good terms with your permanent neighbors. That's how extroverts deal with The Horrors, and I recommend it.

I think that's enough explanation for why I welcomed the whaling voyage. The great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild figments of imagination that pushed me into doing it, the whales came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. They marched into my innermost soul in endless processions and occupied it, you see, I was quite helpless under this occupation - I consented to the haunting and the whales marched in to haunt me - and amidst them all was one grand shrouded white phantom, like a snowy mountain in the air.

You get it.

You know how it is, with whales.

(read the actual first chapter of Moby Dick here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm)

#mody bick

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huhniebowl · 1 year

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A Dare’s a Dare

Elliot x Reader

Warnings: Smutty smut smutt & also a try at some plot...pray he never sees this

a/n: whew...hey guys. long time no SEE! it’s been a hot minute & i’m so sorry about that. please accept this gift as an apology...i didn’t even mean to make this so long, & i definitely still need to make corrections, but alas, here we are. please enjoy & maybe leave a comment? i love reading your guys reactions/thoughts! :)

a/a/n: wait, also, can we talk about cochella? because i was SAT! mama’s boy is already my favoritee.

One of the lightbulbs in the bathroom flicker as you lean down to sniff a line of coke off the porcelain sink. Then it blows out. You told Elliot weeks ago that it needed to be replaced, but as usual, his “I’ll get to it.” gets lost in all the other bullshit he spews.

Throwing your head back, you scrunch your nose and sniff. Not yet used to the burn.

Unrolling the five-dollar bill, you shake it out and shove it in your pocket. He left it in the bathroom for you anyway. You do a quick sweep around to make sure there’s nothing that can show what’s been going on in there, swipe the powder off your tight long sleeve, and walk out.

The music that was once muffled behind the door is now clear as you sway to the beat on your way back into Elliot’s room, Jules and Rue sitting on his bed with a joint between Rue’s lips.

“Ooo, that the vanilla backwood–” You start, then stop when warm hands grab your face, and your lips are pressed against another pair. It happens so fast that you barely have time to process it before the warm body moves away. You stumble and look up.

Elliot.

“That wasn’t 10 seconds,” Jules calls out, leaning into Rue. They’re going straight to hell if you have any say in it. Though considering the life choices you’ve all made from the moment you crossed paths, you’ll be right there with them. Elliot too.

“You’ve never really kissed a girl before, huh, Elly?” Rue mocks, lighting the blunt.

Elliot leans over and whispers in your ear, “Let me keep my dignity, and I’ll let you keep my five in your pocket.” Damn. Touché.

You shrug and nod, reaching to grab his face and pull him forward. You’re too high for this shit.

“Start the clock.” Elliot points, looking at Rue before meeting your lips in a heavy kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist and pushes you against the nearest wall.

Your heart is going well over the average beat per minute, and for once, you can honestly say it wasn’t because of the line you just did. You’ve wanted Elliot since the day Rue introduced you to him. Charming, snarky, sarcastic. Qualities right out of your manifestation journal.

The both of you clicked immediately as if you’d been a past connection. Got even closer as the year went on.

You once considered confessing. Telling him you wanted the title of being his and him yours. But that long since died out the closer you became. You’d rather him a friend than nothing.

So every girl he's ever brought up, fucked, confided in you about, you sat there and took it. Shoving down what you felt and ranting it all out to Rue and Jules until you felt good enough to shove it down again. You thought you were doing pretty good, well, until now, since his hands are squeezing your hips and his mouth is hot on yours. You’re more than sure your pussy rivals Niagara Falls right now.

You know this is some fucked up dare on Jules's part nonetheless, and you really shouldn’t enable her, but fuck it.

It’s just a kiss.

So you melt into him, let your hands slide from his face, and rest one on the back of his neck and the other in his curls. You accidentally give them a harsh tug when Elliot pulls back a little to suck at your bottom lip while slipping a warm hand into your sweats to grope your ass.

At the same time you whimper, he huffs out a hoarse ‘fuck’ against your lips at the tug. You open your eyes and pull back just a bit to see he’s already looking at you. Desperation is evident on his face, and his chest heaving just as much as yours. His eyes dart back down to your lips, and you can tell he’s about to go in for another kiss. You just about meet him halfway until your drug-muddled brain processes that you both aren’t alone. The harsh shrill of Jules yelling out shatters the atmosphere.

“10!” You jump, and Elliot freezes, dropping his head onto your shoulder, as his shake with laughter. Unfortunately, the new position leaves you face to face with your friends looking at you with a smugness you want to punch. You throw up your middle finger.

“We literally yelled out 10 a good zillion times. You two were practically fucking in front of us.”

You roll your eyes and push Elliot off when you feel him start to leave soft kisses up your neck, afraid you might actually jump him in front of company if he keeps going. Besides, that wasn’t part of the dare.

“You’re so fucking horny.” You groan, sliding down on the carpet, still trying to catch your breath. Elliot grins and takes the joint from Rue.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t go out like that. A dare’s a dare.”

You grumble and try to ignore the ripple of hurt that rides through you. For a split second, you let yourself believe that maybe the kiss was of hidden motive. Despite it being a dare, you hoped there was at least some truth behind his touches.

Suddenly you hate your friends for the dare, but more so yourself for letting the strong wall you built fall the second he unknowingly dove into your hidden desire.

Your response was a bit delayed, a dry laugh as you reached out for the joint. Closing your eyes and letting your head thump against the wall after your pull.

Fuck.

Time goes by, and your high eventually fades. Rue and Jules left when Jules’s dad began calling about her whereabouts. You stayed behind with Elliot, you two in the middle of a movie when your friends decided to go.

When the credits roll, you glance at your phone. Two am.

“Can I stay the night?” You ask, looking up from your phone. Your stomach swirls when you notice he’s already looking in your direction. Stare intense, and you wonder how long he was staring in the first place.

“It’s pretty late, and I really don’t feel like going home.” You know he’ll say yes, so you quickly text your sister and toss your phone.

“Yeah, sure,” He rolls over and stretches, “You know where everything is to shower and shit.”

You nod and roam around his room for a shirt and a clean pair of boxers.

“You don’t already have a hookup planned for tonight, do you? Cause that would suck.” You laugh under your breath, turning on his orange lamp. Your back faces him while you move around, and you notice he’s silent. Too long for a joke. Not even a scoff. You turn around and see him on the edge of his bed, hands running down his face.

“I stopped those a while ago.” You raise your eyebrows and shuffle in your spot. The air goes tense, and you don’t like it. So you try to shift it.

“What? Ran out of girls in the area?” Your smile drops as soon as it starts when he looks up at you in annoyance. A look that’s never been directed to you.

“No, I got tired of fucking people who didn’t give a fuck about me.” You’re immediately swallowed by guilt. You cross your arms and stop shuffling.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Elliot. I didn't mean it like that.” He waves you off and gets up to grab a clean towel.

"Mhm." He walks out to his vacant cousins' ensuite bathroom and slams the door. You jump in your spot and groan. Muttering to yourself on your way toward his bathroom.

You brush your teeth once you’re showered and dressed. His boxers rolled down to fit your hips. His shirt smells like him, and you find yourself bringing it up to your nose any chance you get.

Spitting out the toothpaste, you rinse your mouth and stare at yourself in the mirror. Eyes trailing down to your neck and remembering how Elliot’s lips softly moved up that sensitive part of your skin hours ago. You wonder what would have happened if you didn’t push him away.

Would he have kept going despite having company? Bite down? You shudder, shaking your head and gripping the sink. You've stayed over at his place before, but this feels different. Something is looming over the two of you, and you don’t know if you like it.

You give yourself a dramatic thumbs up in the mirror and walk towards his room. The orange light from before is off, and a dim glow emits instead. He turned on his string lights.

The ones you got him for his birthday last year. You smile to yourself and see Elliot cross-legged on his bed, rolling another joint.

He doesn’t acknowledge you, rightfully so. But it still doesn't make you feel good. You lean on his door frame and watch his fingers skillfully pearl the backwood. You know he knows you’re staring at him, but he doesn’t make a move to say anything.

Your eyes move up to his mouth, fixating on how he uses his tongue to lick the seam of the rolling paper. His eyes flick up while doing so and lock with yours. Your breath hitches, and you watch as he trails down your body before making eye contact again. You divert your attention elsewhere, clicking your acrylics against each other.

Elliot sighs, and you hear him place his rolling tray on his desk.

“You just gonna stand there or help me smoke this?” A silent peace offering.

You stay by the doorway, still a little unsure, watching Elliot place the blunt between his lips and lie on his back, holding his lighter out to you.

“Light me.”

You huff and push off the frame, crawling on his bed and taking a seat on his window seal. The square cut out big enough for you to comfortably sit in. You grab the lighter from his hands and spark it, leaning forward to light his spliff.

“Elliot, I’m—” Once again, his eyes meet yours, and your words die in your throat. You’re closer to him than before. His curls are still damp and loose, framing his face. Skin soft and dewy from skincare, and the amber glow from the flame.

He’s so fucking beautiful. Being this close, your thumbs itch to rub over his apple tattoo; then over his eyebrows, then gently use the pad to pull down his plump bottom lip to watch it bounce back into place.

They’re loosely holding on to the vanilla backwood, pink and soft. You want to kiss him again. Taste the flavored remnant that undoubtedly coats his lips the longer the joint sits there.

Elliot shuffles, and you snap out of your revere, clearing your throat. You quickly light his joint as you feel the lighter wheel heat up under your thumb. Then continue your apology.

“I'm really sorry for earlier. What I said was fucked up.”

“Yeah, you think?” He’s being sarcastic, but once again, deserved.

“At least the sex you’ve had meant something. They don’t just fuck off after.” Elliot takes a long pull and hands it over to you.

“Who would’ve thought me, of all people, craved intimacy during and after a fuck.” He gives a dry laugh and blows out.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that.” Elliot looks over at you. “The guys I fucked were only interested in me for that reason. A fuck.” After a pull, you let your head rest against the wall, “Led me to believe it would be something more, then left with a half-assed sentiment once I gave them what they really wanted. Never even cummed for a guy.”

You shrug, then blow out the smoke before continuing. “So I guess we’re on the same boat then, huh?”

You look over at Elliot, his face unreadable. Silence falls over you both like a thick blanket as you pass the joint between each other. You let him get the last hit, holding it out for him lean up and take a pull.

He crosses his legs and puts his hands behind his head, eyes lidded and red as he watches you snuff out the blunt and toss it out the window. You suppose your eyes don’t look too far off from that too.

His voice, although soft, jumps you out of the silence.

“You’re more than just a fuck.” You suddenly find it hard to breathe.

“You too, Elliot.” You whisper, scared to break the atmosphere you two have made. He’s quiet for a moment before continuing.

“I wouldn’t treat you that way. At least with me, you’d cum.”

Your heart damn near stops, and you inhale at his words. He reaches a hand out to your ankle; the pads of his fingertips cool as they rub at the warm skin over the bone. Mindlessly playing with your anklet, you shiver as his hand moves to caress your calf.

He shuffles closer to you, and your thighs quiver at the new tension. You can’t process what’s happening anymore. What’s real, and what’s fake.

Being high blinds the practicalness you usually have when it comes to Elliot, making everything regarding him, sugar-coated. Elliot’s processing through your brain like he’s a wad of sugary cotton candy, and you’re feigning for it bad.

It’s why you feel your body mindlessly moving on its own as you climb down from his window and over to him. You straddle his hips, and his hands slide under your shirt like clockwork.

He’s close enough to where his breath fans over your lips, he’s focused on them until he catches your gaze. “I know I can give you what you need.”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath when your clothed clit barely rubs at his dick, poking under his sweats. His body reacts to prove his words right.

“So, please, can I make you cum?” He doesn’t need to ask twice.

“God, yes, Elliot.” And just like earlier, his lips are on yours. It has your pussy puddled in seconds. It’s slow, wet, and sounds lewd even in your ears.

Just as you guessed, there’s a faint taste of vanilla, and it has you whimpering. Your moans filter in soon after when he grabs your hips and pulls them down, pussy rubbing against his hard-on.

He’s harder than earlier, and it feels too good; it has you jolting up. His groan is guttural, sending spikes of pleasure through you like no other. You swallow the sound and let him flip you both over.

“Wanted this for so fucking long.” He breathes, leaving kisses down your neck. You don’t know what to say. Still not comprehending this is happening, let alone someone you’ve been yearning for admitting that he has been too.

He moves back to yank off his shirt, and you’re whining out to him before you can stop yourself. Needing him back against you. Elliot chuckles at your neediness, returning for a kiss that barely leaves you in touch with reality.

“Take this off for me?” He whispers, tugging on your shirt. You pull it off and bring him back down, his hands running over your newly exposed skin. Fingers brushing over your tits.

“Can I?” His voice is strained, composure just short of being lost.

“Yeah.” You breathe, feeling him kiss down your chest until his warm mouth suctions onto your nipple.

You curse out and arch off the bed, running a hand through his hair and gripping it hard. He groans against you, his dick pressing harder against your thigh as he ruts himself into your soft skin. Desperate for friction.

You don’t realize how much he’s getting off to this until you bring yourself to look down and see his eyes closed. His lips suctioned around your right nipple, his fingers rolling the bud of the left one. He’s in a state of bliss, so lost in himself. He pops off and moves to the other, tongue flicking over your nipple in a way you wish was on your clit.

“Elliot, please.” You whine, pussy gushing yet again when you feel him grind harder at you saying his name.

“Please, what?” He moves off your nipple and lays his head on your stomach. Looking up at you while his fingers replace where his mouth once was.

“Need you.” You can’t say it; you won’t. You’re more than sure he knows where you want him. You can tell when you hear him huff a laugh.

“You’re going to have to tell me where.” You quiver when you feel his fingers rub over the drenched spot on your boxers. His boxers.

“It’s here? You need me here, right? You really drenched my boxers, didn’t you?”

“Yes, right there. Please, please.” You whine, unable to feel embarrassed. Not when he has you this worked up.

“See. Not so hard.” He muses, sliding them off and slowly pushing your legs apart.

“Fuck, look at you.” He whispers. “So pretty and so wet. Just for fucking me.” He looks up at you, “Anyone ever made you this wet?”

You shake your head. “No, just you. Only you.” Elliot’s in awe, someone like you all glistening and needy for him. It's like he’s on a power trip. “Can I record eating your pussy?”

Your mind is too sugar-coated for you to think straight, your trust and reliability around Elliot allowing it to be as such. A question like that from anyone else would have had you shriveling up in disgust. But with Elliot? You find yourself pliant. Ready to let him do anything he wanted to you.

“Your words.” He murmurs, his fingers pressing down on your clit to watch your juices spread.

You squeal at the pressure, “Yes, yes!”

“Good girl.” He feels around for his phone. You hear the start of the video and through lidded eyes, see him shining the camera flash on your soaked folds.

“Looks even prettier in the light.” You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the camera, but your pussy visibly clenches at his words, and he chuckles.

“Can you spread yourself for me?”

He was going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

Obediently, you slide your pretty fingers to your cunt, and slowly open yourself up to him with your pointer and middle finger. You hear the sticky sound your pussy makes as you reveal your clit to him, the jewels on your acrylics glinting under the flash.

“Fuck.” He breathes out your name, zooming in. “Keep it there.” He says, reaching his thumb to rub slow circles on your clit.

“Elly!” You whine, thighs trembling. He hands you his phone without a word, eyes not tearing away from your pussy. With a shaky hand, you take it and position it so he’s in frame.

“Hold still.”

“Oka–Shit, Elliot!” You cry, his tongue flicking your clit before you can finish. His eyes are closed, lapping you up like he's starved. You want to close your eyes, too lost in the overwhelming feeling of everything, Elliot. But he told you to hold still.

So you look down in the camera to make sure he’s still within frame and almost cum right there. He’s looking up into the camera, right at you. It has your stomach clenching and pussy throbbing under his tongue.

“Feels so good, Elly, don’t stop.” You cry out. He keeps a hand firmly on your thigh to keep them open and brings the other to rub circles on your clit. He moves down and shoves his tongue inside. Tongue fucking you and eliciting the only sound he wants to hear from you.

You let out a moan so pretty it has Elliot’s dick harder than ever, and he falters in his movements for a second. Pulling back to leave quick, and messy kisses to your pretty fingers for holding yourself open for him.

“M’ gonna cum!” You squeal, dropping the phone to grip his sheets. You could feel it; you were about to snap. And you’re so desperate for it. Desperate to cum for him.

He pulls back for a quick second, “Come on, baby, you can do it. All over my face, come on.” Then he quickly flicks the tip of his tongue back on your clit.

You reach both hands down to grip his hair, “Yes, like that; stay there, stay there!” You cry, toes curling when Elliot does as you say.

That’s all you need. The white-hot coil snaps, and you scream Elliot’s name, cumming harder than you believed possible. Head thrown back as one of your hands squeeze the pillow under your head, the other still holding a tight grip on Elliot’s hair. Knuckles white.

Your legs tremble, and your chest stutters. Elliot watches it all in a daze. He didn’t know someone could look so fucking beautiful while cumming. You look dewy, a thin sheet of sweat coating your body. The woman right out of his wet dreams.

He did that to you, it was all him, and it has him moaning into your sensitive cunt. Causing your body to quiver.

“Fuck Elliot.” You breathe, pawing his greedy mouth off you and back to your lips. You taste yourself on him and sigh.

“So good. So so good.” He mumbles, moving to bite at your collerbones. You wrap a arm around his shoulders, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Thank you, Elly, thank you, thank you.” You whimper, feeling so raw. So bared with him. You’re holding his face in your hand, overwhelmed with how he’s staring at you. Like you hung the stars and the planets. Like you’re wholeheartedly the only reason for his existence, and you almost can’t take it.

“Wanna make you feel good.” You whisper, reaching down between your bodies and wrapping your hand around his cock. He breathes through his nose and drops his head into your neck.

“Yes, please.” His voice is thick and coarse. You don’t respond, lining yourself up with him and squeezing his arm, letting him know to slip in.

“Fuck fuck.” Elliot grits out, as he slowly pushes, his hands on either side of your head. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs around his waist.

Once he bottoms out, you clamp down on him. He stays still, trying to pull himself together not to cum yet.

He feels helpless, losing himself in the heat of your pussy like this. Never has he been reduced to a mess like this before.

“Gonna need you to relax, baby, or I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you properly.” He rasps. You pepper kisses over his shoulder and run your fingers through his hair. Willing yourself to calm down. You feel so full, the pleasure tingling up your spine and throughout your body.

“Elly, please move.” You whimper, desperate to feel him. He keeps himself buried in your neck, his grip on the blankets tightening.

You’re just about to beg again when Elliot decides to snap his hips. You choke on your words and lock your ankles tighter over each other. His pace is quick but deep, the tip of his dick abusing that spongy spot you can never reach.

Your walls flutter around him, so warm and soft, and he needs more.

He’s pussy drunk, panting into your skin at how you’re squeezing him in so perfectly, greedy to milk him for all he has.

“S’pussy was made for me, just for me.” He mutters.

You can’t find your voice. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and mouth open as Elliot fucks you into the mattress with all he has. Your nails dig into his back, and he hisses at the sting.

You find yourself gasping for air when he pulls up from your neck, his face flushed and his baby hair curling at his forehead.

“Kiss me, plea—.” You whimper, and he’s already moving to your lips before you finish. It’s sloppy, more a meeting of spit and tongue than a kiss, but you’re high off it.

You’re going to cum again, and Elliot can tell, by the way your pussy is tightening around him.

He can feel your cunt drooling, his precum mixing with your arousal, causing a creamy ring around the base of his dick, and the mere sight of it has him higher than he thought possible.

“M’ gonna cum. You gonna come w’me?” He mumbles against your lips, his eyes far away.

You nod, “S’close, Elly.” You grow impatient, moving your hips to match his sloppy pace.

“That’s right, fuck me back, baby.” His voice is hoarse. Completely lost in his lust and need for you. You feel it again, that familiar heat pooling; you’re right there.

It takes one more snap of his hips, and you’re cumming around him hard, eyes shut and mouth open in a silent scream as you cream all over his dick. There’s a ringing in your ears; Elliot sounds far away as he works you through your orgasm while chasing his.

“Cumming, fuck m’gonna cum.” He sounds like a broken record, but he can’t help it.

He’s so lost in the way you’re squeezing around him. So perfect and tight. You hold him as close as possible in your weakened state, making eye contact and fulfilling your thoughts from earlier by pulling down his bottom lip with your thumb.

“Cum inside, Elly. Wanna feel you cum.” And he’s cumming. A resounding whimper works its way up his throat as he paints the inside of your sopping cunt. He goes limp on top of you, kissing you up the valley of your chest, until he softly catches your lips in a slow and lazy kiss. So good, and thank you’s tumbling out his lips.

You feel hot, & sticky but can’t bring yourself to push him off. So you bask in the silence, your nails raking through his scalp as you gather your bearings. You feel yourself spinning, wondering where this leaves you two. If this is the end of your friendship. If he—

“So,” Elliot draws, looking up at you and unknowingly snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Wanna be my girlfriend?” You look down at him and can’t help the laugh that erupts from your throat. Light swatting his head.

Because, of course, this is how Elliot would ask. He smiles, content with how he can feel your chest rumbling under his head, and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend, Elly.”

#elliot #elliot smut #elliot fanfic #elliot imagines #elliot imagine #euphoria #euphoria smut #elliot euphoria #elliot euphoria imagine #elliot smut euphoria #dominic fike imagine #dominic fike imagines #dominic fike smut #dominic fike fan fiction #dominic fike fic #elliot fan fiction euphoria #elliot fan fiction #smut

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chiquititaosita · 10 months

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Maki Zenin x Latina fem reader 🫶🏼🌶️👹

¡! ❞ synopsis: maki x latina reader varying headcanons, with slight mentions of nsfw descriptions, and suggestive writing

osita note: yall im making more soon asap, writing is back in the groove more gay shit coming soon! hope y’all love it @kenruu @sanjisblackasswife @yourrfavzxri @chrollohearttags @chocolatetheoristcloud @sanjis-all-blue @euphofic @roronoaswifey @cookiepie111 @sierae @hqkalon

maki being the girlfriend to write you notes on a sticky note in places you’ll be looking for stuff. “have a good day at work! fuck that bitch (coworkers name).”

Maki who spoils you by buying you food, and even cooking sometimes. She comes to terms with accepting the use of vicks vaporub and newspaper cones.

Maki Zenin being the girlfriend that literally checks you out unintentionally, and her sister calls her out.

“You’re checking her out aren’t you?”

“So she’s not your type.” “but that’s my girlfriend.”

“Hey she’s mine back off!” she gets jealous so fucking easily, and is kinda tóxica but we stan it.

You yelling at Maki and slapping her hand with a wooden spoon with a small hit. Then itadori with a PAM! because they attempted to eat your cooking that’s still raw and needs to be cooked thoroughly.

“Wash y’all’s damn hands!!” You’ll be yelling that in Spanish and putting your hands on your hips.

I mean if you you yell at Maki or anyone in español She’s gonna get her pushy wet, call it Niagara Falls up in this bitch.

“AYO THOSE ARE MY TITTIES!!” she’s gonna cover you up if you have a nip slip or a fashion mishap. Or get nobara to help you. She don’t mess with taken women, nobara goes after married men PURR

here y/n is just being fussy; and crying if she gets hurt, “who did this to you!?…” at first in her head she’ll be like oh shit.

“What happened…?” bitch will fight the whole jujitsu society and even risk her life as a sorcerer for you. BECAUSE SHE LOVES YOU SO DEARLY INTO HER HEART.

ms girl loves your cooking and your body with stretch marks and freckles. “And I thought you were my breakfast.”

FaceTimes you when you’re on break, ALWAYS COMES HOME TO YOUR COOKING AND CLEANING. Because she’s never been taken care off because her dads a bitch. she starts showing affection to you slowly.

“i know you’re homesick, so i brought you pan dulce from the panadería.”

“you want me to help you with anything?” she really doesn’t know how to ask you for help, but instead she takes over the whole task on doing it.

“you need to be careful, okay?” overprotective 11/10

cuddles are necessary with her always

she’s always gotta be touching you on your thighs your ass or your titties, even the small of your back

“My girlfriends coming! And she’s gonna kick your ass!” The minute she feels somethings not right! 🏎️ nyooom!! She’s gonna use her cursed objects to find you AND KILL THEM MFS

Maki to the rescue. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She’s gonna kill these bitches with no mercy. Maki has already lost her mother and she can’t risk the chances of losing you.

She calls you mama, princess, baby, y/n love, love, love bug, sunshine.

Actually is learning Spanish for you. Even though it’s easy to understand by how you’re yelling at someone she’s just encouraging you with her hands up having a smirk on her face. “that’s my girl.”

especially for her voice being low and sounding like honey, when she calls you baby. she’s obsessed at how y’all dance together. Mai approves of you 9/10! only because maki didn’t tell her about you sooner.

if your cousins ask maki why her hair looks like mocos, she’ll just just not care. and whisper something super sinister in your cousins ears that’ll leave them terrified, and go back to eating.

kisses with maki are sweet and slow, even passionate at times, of course when it comes to pda she’ll show you off, but when y’all are alone and in private she’s mostly affectionate, and at her most vulnerable state

when you teach her how to flip a tortilla she instantly burns her finger, because the comal was hot. “fuck!” that leaves you to helping her with it. but you or maki wouldn’t change a thing

#˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ jjk #˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ osita’s maki zenin #maki zenin x latina! reader #maki zenin fluff #x latina! reader #˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚jjk headcanons #༊*·˚ ositas master list #mai zenin #maki zenin #zenin twins #jjk x reader #maki x reader fluff #˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ositas jjk masterlist #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen

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total-drama-brainrot · 20 days

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This Alenoaheather AU is bringing me an unholy amount of serotonin and I love it- I’m still just now discovering it and I wish I knew about it sooner😭😭 But question if I may!

So, by the time Noah gets eliminated, where would you say his relationship lies with Alejandro and Heather? Like, does he leave the competition like, “You both tried to play each other, but I ended up playing the both of you, L” Like does he just think that Alejandro and Heather only romantically like each other, and he was just their attempt at emotionally manipulating one another, or does he at least have an idea that they potentially may feel romantically towards him? Honestly I’m just curious about how his elimination would play out between the three of them-

I'm glad other people are enjoying this AU as much as I am. Me and Perp are slowly spreading our Alenoaheather propaganda and it's working.

It's been established that Noah's elimination in this AU will take place at some point in the early post-merge game, probably either China or the Serengeti (though Niagara Falls might work too. We haven't exactly touched on how each challenge can/will play out since this whole concept has been put on the backburner), which gives his dynamic with Heather and Alejandro time to blossom from the initial double fake dating ploy into something more genuine.

Well before his elimination, Noah's been caught in his double-crossing ways; or to be more accurate triple-crossing, since Noah initially decided to play along with both Heather and Alejandro's schemes with the intention of throwing them both under the bus (or at least reaping all of the benefits for himself). But, by the time his ploy is figured out, the three of them have developed genuine feelings for each other.

As such, Heather and Alejandro are hesitant to have him eliminated; sure Noah somehow managing to pull the wool over their eyes for as long as he did was infuriating, but it was also impressive. Like recognises like, and the two biggest schemers in the game can appreciate when they've been outplayed, aggravating as it is, especially when the person who bested them essentially used their own trickery against them. Also, though the two of them would never admit it, both Heather and Alejandro know that they'd honestly miss Noah's caustic company.

Of course, at this point in the competition Heather and Alejandro are still deep in their "rivalry" phase, so it takes the two of them a very convoluted and overcomplicated conversation to figure out that they both share the same sentiment concerning a certain cynic- since every encounter they have with each other is practically a game of backhanded compliments and dancing around the true meaning of their words. It takes even longer for them to come to an agreement, given how stubborn the both of them can be, but eventually they manage to co-operate.

Which is what leads to The Confrontation, the point in the story where the two fake dating plots merge into Heather and Alejandro putting aside their differences to rule the game together, utilizing Noah as their shared right hand man since he's shown a knack for strategy and subterfuge. After all, why would they want to get rid of the one person on the jet who's able to go toe-to-toe with them in terms of scheming, when they can instead keep him around as an accomplice?

At least, that's the excuse they both use. But the two of them internally can't deny that, even if it was all pretend, Noah wasn't a bad "boyfriend" by any means, and they genuinely enjoy his company. In turn, Noah's accepted that neither Heather nor Alejandro are as insufferable as he initially assumed, and that playing along with their grand plots is actually really fun. (And maybe he also likes the two of them, but Noah would never admit that.)

But there's a a whole cast's worth of people on the jet who the trio also have to consider in their plans; it would be super suspicious of all three of them if the flirting and Aleheather's animosity suddenly ceased. No matter how oblivious the rest of the competitors are, a sudden public change in their dynamic would be the equivalent of waving a huge red flag and screaming "hey, we're in an alliance, vote us out!" Very counterintuitive to their goal of winning the competition.

So the three of them resolve to act as they have been during challenges, and sneak off to the confessional when it's most convenient/feasible to do so, where they can plot and scheme away from the rest of the cast.

This means that, at least to everyone else in the game, Noah's still in this weird grey area where he's actively flirting with both Heather and Alejandro. Or, well, "flirting", since I imagine most of the advances would be initiated by the other party and Noah would play the part of the blushing damsel- or more accurately the begrudging but highly amused recipient, since I just can't conceptualise snarky, stoic Noah being the type to get flustered easily.

I imagine The Confrontation would happen somewhere around London timeline wise (it just feels like the most appropriate place to have a major shift in the plot happen, for obvious reasons), which would give the initial fake dating aspect of the AU time to run it's course without getting stale, and allow the three of them to establish their dynamic as a trio before the merge hits. It'd give Alenoaheather around five or six episodes worth of time to grow closer as a trio (from Greece's Pieces to Niagara Brawls, at least) and have their feelings grow and develop at a natural pace, to the point where they acknowledge that, perhaps, not all of the romantic tension between them is fake.

And then, of course, the Fake Cheating Arc happens. Noah's elimination is the catalyst for this section of the plot, which Perp and myself touched on pretty heavily in one of our reblog chains, and at this point in the story Alenoaheather are in a sort of vague kind-of-dating situation; the three of them know there's feelings there, but they're all more invested in the competition (and their manipulation of such) than trying to figure out what exactly is going on between them. Plus, World Tour takes place in 2010- concepts like polyamory weren't exactly common knowledge back then, so the three of them wouldn't have any basis of comparison for what their dynamic is/would be.

That, and the three of them are all fairly emotionally closed off, so getting them to admit genuine feelings for each other and show vulnerableness to anyone would be like pulling teeth. As it stands, they're fairly content to continue acting as a Trickster Trio, contented to leave whatever's going on between them unlabelled for the time being in favour of focusing their time and energy on winning the million. There's an unspoken understanding between the three of them; what they have is special, inconceptual and indescribable by mere words... which is mostly just an excuse for the three of them not to breach the subject, since they have the collective emotional intelligence of a spork.

That doesn't mean they don't love each other. Because they do, even if some of them (Heather and Alejandro) aren't exactly familiar with concepts like "unconditional love" and "loyalty/compassion for someone besides yourself" and "lowering your emotional walls and being the most genuine version of yourself in front of the people who care about you". It's a steep learning curve, but they're doing their best.

But that's besides the point; at this point in the plot, the trio are essentially a throuple in all but name at the point of Noah's elimination.

That's why his suggestion of playing off of his "cheating" is initially met with hesitance on Aleheather's part- they don't want the one person on the jet (besides each other) they actually care about to risk his reputation, but they also know that it's a strategically sound idea. There's a conflict of interest between their desire to win the competition by any means necessary, and the budding sense of empathy they've both began to develop as a result of their situationship.

Of course, they eventually agree to his plan, and then the whole Cheating Arc plays out as it's been explored previously.

Which means Noah's actual elimination ceremony is a very tense affair.

He's intentionally playing himself up as kind of a scumbag during it, since he wants both Heather and Alejandro to appear as sympathetic as possible to the remaining competitors, so the three of them stage an altercation during that day's challenge where Noah's caught out in his "cheating", and consequently "admits" that he's been playing the two of them and it's all ingenuine on his part, to direct the majority vote against him. It'd kill two birds with one stone that way; Noah gets himself eliminated without having to do much out of the ordinary, since he's already kind of an asshole so all he really has to do is play up that aspect of himself a little and lie about manipulating his partners, meanwhile Heather and Alejandro can reap the benefits of whatever brownie points they gain from being his "victims" by using their own manipulative prowess to adopt the role of the ex-villains, redeemed by their shared heartbreak. Or something equally melodramatic.

Noah doesn't really care about the specifics of it, he'll be long gone before his partners can start playing up their "betrayal and heartbreak", and then soon enough one of them will win the competition. And spoil him rotten with their money.

So, during the actual ceremony, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to sit anywhere near him on the benches, and the remaining cast members form a protective wall between him and a distraught Heather, who sniffles back quiet tears every time her eyes wander too close to the cynic's slouching, impassive frame, and Alejandro who's sat eerily still and taut with disgraced fury, who's fiery green eyes haven't strayed from the burning glare he's shooting towards the bookworm.

Not that Noah's a stranger to receiving glares; the rest of the cast are also shooting him some downright murderous looks. Though he is impressed by his partners' acting abilities. He's also physically biting back pearls of laughter- the gritting of his teeth only serves to make him look unapologetically indignant, and thus more irredeemable in the eyes of their company- because every time Alejandro knows that no one's focus is on him, he sends his cerebral partner a cheeky wink and a smirk. The smug bastard.

Unsurprisingly, the vote is fairly unanimous. Chris doesn't even bother trying to raise suspense or tension by counting the votes, since the result is inevitable. That, and the atmosphere is already so tense and dramatic, the host is revelling in it. Chris even goes so far as complimenting Noah for outshining Duncan's cheating fiasco, showing the audience "what real relationship drama looks like", and maybe even congratulating Noah on almost being as heartless as he is.

He's escorted to the Drop of Shame, parachute backpack in tow, but before he can take the plunge he glances back at his audience. A raging sea of hostility greets him, but within the depths of animosity two shining beacons of light greet him. Alejandro and Heather shoot him a fleeting wave, the ghosts of smiles flickering across their features before they continue their flawless acts, but it's enough to reassure Noah that everything will be fine.

(Spoiler alert, things don't end up being fine for Noah.)

Of course this is all just an idea I'm spewing out. Nothing in this AU is set in concrete and it's always open to peer review or change. That's the beauty of public AUs; you can do whatever you want with them!

#is this anything? i just got home from work and sort of typed this out in an exhausted haze #me when i see the word “alenoaheather”: 🏃‍♂️💨#to be fair i did take a break in the middle of writing this to read kijo's newest fic (it's also alenoaheather and it's INCREDIBLE)#uhhhhh #honestly now i kind of want to make an off-shoot of this au where noah really IS that much of a dick--#and IS playing with their feelings and hits the fortnite Take The L dance during his elimination #“L + Ratio + RIP Bozo + I never loved either of you. Peace ✌”#but for this au. yeah. they love each other so much. it's disgusting #i think me and perp touched on it a little but they do have a situationship going on pre-elimination #it's untitled because the 2000s were awful for any relationship that wasn't straight and monogamous #these three are rediscovering polyamory like a group of cavemen reinventing the wheel. it'll take them a while to fully figure out--#but what they've got going on works for the time being!#need to gather The Council and make us all have a brainrot session over this AU at some point #total drama #td alejandro #td heather #td noah #alenoaheather #fake dating au #silly ideas #long post #replies

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cherienymphe · 2 months

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Did it hurt the first time you used a dildo? I’m still a virgin and never fingered myself I just do clit stimulation and I got fingered by a guy and it hurt so bad even when he was just doing 1 finger since the vagina is a muscle I guess if you never use it it stays really tight and kinda shrinks up? 😭 I put one finger up myself and it was uncomfortable but I tried doing 2 and it hurt and I feel like I could barely get them up I want to order a dildo or a dilator so I can start stretching myself out because if I can’t even take 2 fingers without pain I won’t be able to take a real ass dick but even when I get a dildo or dilator I know it’s gonna hurt too I’m scared 😩

You have to make sure you're really turned on though. I don't mean moist I mean for you to be comfortable it has to be Niagara Falls down there. And go slow 😭 for the love of God take your time. You don't have to rush or even have to succeed in one go. It's okay to try a little and then come back to it

#asks

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juneknight · 2 years

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//An Island No More\\

“Never knew we had so much bloody stuff,” Steven mutters. He sits like an island in the sea of junk, a head of haphazard curls bobbing above piles of eclectically sorted items that the two of you have dredged up from various surfaces around the flat. Steven and the others aren’t hoarders, but they do have a habit of refusing to throw anything away lest it belong to another alter. You served as a middleman, the only one present consistently enough to know what is whose and what's worth keeping. “Look at this—a flyer from last year! I don’t even think this restaurant is open anymore. Rubbish.”

He crumples it and takes aim at the rubbish bin, sinking the shot with a practiced flick of his wrist. Littered around the bin on the floor are your own failed attempts.

Picking up a fresh stack of papers and books to comb through, Steven continues: “Real convenient how Marc and Jake are missing in action. They always seem to skive off on cleaning days and leave it all to us, don’t they?”

“We’ll save the bathroom for them,” you suggest, sitting heavily into the chair at Steven’s desk and wondering where to begin making sense of the mess. “Wouldn’t be right for us to have all the fun.”

Steven grins. “It’s the civil thing to do, isn’t it? Look at this—a calendar for three years from now? What’s the bloody use in that? We don’t even own a calendar for this year.”

“I think we do,” you say, plucking highlighters of various colors from beneath papers and inside pencil cups. “Over under Sole’s book about the Rosetta Stone. I think Marc brought home the one you're holding though. Is it empty?”

The pages rustle as he flips through them. “Yeah. Wait—no. Something’s here: Falls. Did you write that?”

You blink, wracking your brain. “Oh. No. That must have been Marc. He told me ages ago when we were chatting about bucket lists, things we’d like to do, places we’d like to visit and such. Mostly, he just listened, but he did say he’d always wanted to see Niagara Falls, so I suggested we go on your next birthday milestone. I said we could look into—what is it? Steven, what is it?”

Steven has grown still. For a moment, you think that he has switched, that Jake or Marc has come to the front. But when he glances up at the sound of you calling his name, you know it’s him. You can always tell your lovers apart by their eyes. Steven’s eyes are soft, open, and currently filled with tears.

“What is it?” you ask, heart in your throat.A highlighter slips from your fingers and clatters to the wooden floor, rolling somewhere beneath the desk. “What’s wrong, love?”

Steven laughs wetly, rubbing his knuckles against the rims of his eyes to head off any falling tears. “Nothing. I just—well, you don’t understand, do you?”

“Is it the Falls? Does it mean something to you? Marc said he’d never been—“

“We haven’t, no. But Marc…this isn’t like him, you know.”

You don’t know, not yet. But something in Steven’s tone has you dropping the rest of the highlighters and high-stepping your way through all the junk, past the sea and up onto the sand with him til he is alone no more. An island no more.

Steven leans against you. His thumb brushes over Marc’s neat, cramped script. “I don’t think he’s ever really been the sort to make plans or think too far ahead. Maybe he couldn’t imagine a future for himself. Maybe he didn’t want to. But something’s changed now, hasn’t it? It’s right here, isn’t it? He’s going to Niagara Falls.”

It’s your turn for your eyes to grow misty. Unable to speak around the knot in your throat, you wrap your arms around Steven and nod into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, squeezing tighter when you feel the desperate way he clings back.

All at once, he reaches to cup your jaw and move you away so that he can cast his anxious eyes—Marc, Marc’s eyes, always so searching and uncertain, with the line between the brows—over your wet cheeks. Now he wipes at your tears.

“Hey,” Marc soothes. “What is it? Did something happen? Steven slipped away so fast.”

“Nothing happened,” you promise. “Just—come here. Let me hold you.”

“Never gonna say no to that,” Marc murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. You rest your head against his shoulder, close enough to feel the distant thrum of his steady pulse. He’s alive. More than that, he wants to live. Steven was right. You hadn’t understood at all.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader

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floating-in-the-blue · 2 days

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@thinkmanythingsofit and @galentir, since you apparently had a moment of brain alignment roughly 12 hours ago, I'll answer to both of you in one post ;D But thank you so much for sending in questions!! <3

4. What flower would you like to be given?

I'm allergic to a lot of flowers so this is always tricky and I routinely pass on my birthday flowers from work to some coworker (it used to be we could wish for a plant instead of a bouquet of flowers but alas, no longer).

But sunflowers are pretty safe :D

23. Favourite piece of clothing.

Clothes and I have a difficult relationship but you guys might have picked up that I'm slightly obsessed with funny socks so definitely: SOCKS!!

If specific piece of individual clothing, I'm gonna go with a bright blue fleece jacket that my dad got on a press tour from Nokia where they visited the Niagara Falls and that I appropriated shortly after his trip as mine. As a kid, I could wrap myself up twice in it. Those days are long gone but it still fits and though not fashionable at all, it's very beloved. It's my Käpt'n Blaubär jacket :D

30. What reminds you of home (doesn't have to mean house... just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

When I studied in Wales for three semesters, my Dad and I drove over so I could take more things with me and we could have a little vacation together. The moment I put my own bedding on the bed, added my teddy bear and put my slippers down in front of the bed, I had arrived and the student accommodation room had become home.

Soft Asks

#personal #yeoyou

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hansolmates · 2 years

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test drive | 01

summary; hansol vernon chwe is crying at his doorstep like a taylor swift music video, and you’re for some reason there to help pairing; hvc / reader (f) genre/warnings; neighbors to friends, friends to lovers!au, slice of life, fluff, angst, tw—cheating, mentions of pregnancy related to cheating, profanity w/c; 1k a/n; im still so oh so very sad over be the sun tour ending. i had such a great time and i miss vern so much, so i decided to write some sad!vern. would love to thank @theluttleprince for making this gorgeous banner with these scans. *this will be a very noncommittal drabble series, i know this isn’t the return many were expecting but pls be gentle with me—unedited unplanned and all around chaotic impulses, you know the drill! take care drink water and have a wonderful week! [masterpost]

Vernon was (and is) always touted as a good guy. Way out of your league, if you remember college correctly. (To your chagrin, you were sober through most of it.) He was a talented producer in the music program, part of a drama-free fraternity that raised money as fast as they donated, and all-around Good Guy with professors and students alike.

So when you see him sobbing like he’s the peak of Niagara Falls at the front of his apartment five years later, you can’t imagine what Good Guy Vernon could be going through to feel this way.

It just so happened that the elevator is under repair tonight, otherwise you would’ve missed him and been in bed with your bowl of black bean noodles.

The stairs are echoing on his floor, the telltale cries almost making you drop your take-out. You peek out the stairwell and Vernon’s forehead is pressed against the front door, unwilling to move his hand which clutched his keys. Poor guy, he couldn’t make it inside before he could cry in peace.

He still is way out of your league, and therefore you really don’t feel like you’re equipped enough to approach him. The only reason that you’re living in the same complex is that he posted in your university Facebook group about a great apartment in a quiet part of the city. You never replied to the post, however you probably should’ve thanked him at least. This place was absolutely perfect, both within your budget and a short commute to your job.

You wave hello to each other on occasion, very slight occasion. Without speaking.

Palms sweaty, you decide to walk up to him. You really can’t leave him like this, not when he sounds so sad.

“Vernon,” you say softly. No response. He’s shaking. “Vern,” you’re finally an arm’s length away from him when you say his name one more time. “Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

You don't mean to exclaim, but you regret it as soon as he flinches. Your heart aches for him, you can see his face is patchy and while his eyes are still brown and beautiful, they're glassy with a never-ending stream of tears.

He rubs his eyes with his oversized arm sleeve, "Shit, m'sorry. Do we know each other?"

That question didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. "We went to college together. I attended a few of your mixes, which were always great.” And under your breath you mutter, “I may or may not have pushed Soonyoung in the gym pool sophomore year."

A mixture of a huff and chuckle escape his lips, "I remember now. His phone was in his pocket."

You smile. Even if you never did have a conversation in university, it feels good to have left a memory, however minute, in his student career. “So, do you wanna tell me what happened?”

He sighs, “It’s Yoojung.”

You blink back, tilting your head. Yoojung was the cute freshman that plopped on the scene the first week of September. It was no surprise that Vernon would be into her all those years ago. She was sassy, sexy, and packed a powerful personality in that petite body. In fact, you couldn’t imagine what could’ve been wrong, because last time you checked social media, they were doing peachy.

But obviously there is something wrong. With two fingers, you tug apprehensively at his sleeve. It’s the one holding his house keys. “Do you wanna go inside?”

“Eventually.”

With a frown, you stare at the seemingly harmless off-white door. If it is girl trouble, you’d imagine that Vernon would be coming home to a lot of painful memories if that were the case. Maybe Yoojung left her clothes or something and he’d start wailing again.

“How about you come chill in my apartment?” you blurt out, holding out your bag of take-out in hopes he’d be enticed by food. “I have jajangmyeon. We can share.” At the mention of food, his stomach growls in reply. A resounding yes. You bite your lip in an attempt to hide your smile, but it was no use. With a jerk of your head and a light pat on his shoulder, you lead him two more floors up to your room.

You grimace at how evident it is that your apartment is not ready for guests. The door is only open two centimeters in and you can see your nude bra (not even the sexy kind) hanging from your ironing board.

Vernon trails behind you, shutting the door.

“God, what a bad first impression huh?” you chime, stalking up to snatch your bra and throw it in the laundry basket. “Sorry about that, do you want something to drink—”

“Yoojung might be pregnant.”

You drop your take out, plastic clanging on your coffee table. Vernon is unmoving, shoes on. You take a tentative step towards him, offering him another unseen smile. “Oh? Well, did you guys get tested—”

“I wouldn’t be the father.” Vernon mutters bitterly, bangs falling on his eyes. “We’ve never had sex.”

Oh. You’re quiet as Vernon finally shucks off his shoes, taking the time to push them neatly against the steps. He even hangs his denim jacket up, along with his bag. If he notices you staring at him, he ignores it. Breaking out of your reverie, you force yourself into your tiny kitchen, making as much noise as possible when taking out the kitchenware.

“Do you want wine or tea?” you ask.

“Tea, please. Do you have honey and milk?”

You smile, picking out a Winnie the Pooh mug from your display case. “You got it.”

With your water heater on, you busy yourself up. You notice for such a lanky guy, it’s easy for Vernon to appear so small. He’s curled up on your couch, poking at one of your stuffed animals as he settles for turning on your TV. The soft fluffy blanket matches his oversized sweatsuit, one big gray blob stretching over your couch.

Grabbing the bear-shaped honey bottle, you squeeze as much of the syrupy confection as you can into his mug. It looks like he needs it.

#svt fic #vernon fanfic #vernon x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #vernon fic #hansol vernon chwe #vernon angst #vernon fluff #vernon scenario #vernon scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #seventeen fic

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magickastiel · 2 years

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for the final day of @deancaskiss' drabble event!

day 14 - roadtrip

🛣️

Dean takes two roadtrips.

One to the Empty, the other to Canada.

Cas wants to see all three waterfalls that make up the Niagara Falls, starting with the Horseshoe Falls in Ontario.

Dean isn’t about to say no. In fact, as soon as Cas mentions it, Dean’s booking tickets and plotting a route. They leave the next morning, Sam’s half delighted for them and half sulking that he’s not coming too.

‘Just me and Cas.’ He’d said firmly. When Sam tried to argue, Dean added, ‘it’s a romantic trip.’

Sam had blinked, and opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he just nodded.

Dean didn’t tell Cas it was a romantic trip. Just said ‘pack up, buddy. I’m takin’ you to the Falls.’

They stop off outside of Chicago for the night after a cool nine hour drive. It’s been quiet but not awkward.

Dean doesn’t want to crowd Cas, wants to let him ease himself back into life in his own time. So he hums along to the radio, and makes easy conversation. The angel replies quietly, eyes fixed on the view when Dean’s looking at him, and eyes fixed on Dean when Dean’s looking at the road.

He doesn’t mind.

He doesn’t mind when Cas books them one motel room, doesn’t mind when the angel slips into bed next to him even though he doesn’t need to sleep. Doesn’t mind that Cas’ arms find their way around Dean’s waist as they settle down. Doesn't mind the squeeze Cas gives him when Dean, face buried against Cas’ neck, whispers,

"I'm glad you're here with me."

Then it’s another easy drive to the Falls. Cas smiles more, laughs at Dean singing along to the radio, even puts his own music on and taps along to Britney Spears on his lap.

They both go quiet when they get there. Dean’s seen a lot in his life - some good, mostly bad. But this…the scale of the waterfall is mind-boggling. It almost takes his breath away.

“It’s stunning.” Cas says, eyes tracing the horseshoe drop.

“Wanna fly next to it?”

Cas turns to him, a mournful crinkle around his eyes. “Dean. You know I can’t.”

“Actually, we can. Kinda.” Dean fumbles for his phone, to show Cas the tickets he’s already bought. “See? Zipline to the Falls. Flight without feathers, they call it.”

Dean looks back at him and immediately regrets it. The open, raw happiness on Cas’ face makes tears prick at his eyes. He sniffs, and shoves his phone back in his pocket for something to do with his hands. “We don’t have to. If you don’t wanna - ”

“It’s part of the A Day of Romance package.” Cas says, and shit Dean had forgotten that was on the tickets too.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Dean tries to focus on the waterfall instead. “I mean, it just made sense to buy it like that with some other stuff that I thought you’d wanna do.”

“Other stuff?” Cas repeats with awe, like Dean’s quoting romantic verse or something.

“Yeah.” He fidgets, still avoiding Cas’ eyes. “They’ve got a, uh, Floral Showhouse a ways down the road. And a Butterfly Conservatory. Or whatever. Doesn’t matter, we don’t have to do any of it.”

Cas steps forward and gently curls his fingers around Dean’s. He can’t resist anymore; he drops his gaze back to Cas’ eyes, bluer than the goddamn falls. The angel’s beaming at him. “We’re doing all of it.”

Dean nods, now unable to look away. “Right.”

“And I’m going to kiss you now.”

Dean nods again. “Ok.”

And when Cas' lips finally brush against his, Dean feels like he’s falling over the drop.

#i know i went MAJORLY over the word count for this one but i couldn't resist!!#this might be sappiest thing i've ever written and i kinda love it #also you just know dean's going to be sick on the zipline hahaha #dreamydrabble #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #destiel

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hiswordsarekisses · 3 months

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“Imagine standing before a tightrope that stretches across Niagara Falls.

You’ve been given a guarantee by God himself that you’ll make it across safely.

The life he intends for you is on the other side, so remaining where you are is not an option. You have to go.

Still, even with his rock-solid promise, you’re shaking. A nervous wreck. Every step of the way, every downward glance, you’re both exhilarated and terrified.

Finally on the other side, you collapse in joy and nervous exhaustion. You made it. Just as he said.

That’s a taste of what scripture means when it says to work out your salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12).

It has nothing to do with earning it, and everything to do with being aware of how unfathomable it is — how utterly scary your situation was without its promise.

You don’t question the outcome of your journey; like tight-roping across the falls, you walk it out with acute awareness of the magnitude.

You live your salvation with awe.

Aim to live with that sense of sacredness, that exhilaration of the treachery of the journey, on one hand, and the certainty of the promise on the other.

Without God’s guarantee, fear and trembling are only terrifying.

With it, they are a cause for worship and gratitude every moment of the day.”

~ Chris Tiegreen

The phrase “pass the test” is translated from a word that also means “reprobate” “unapproved” “counterfeit” “disqualified” “rejected”

(“Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Can’t you see for yourselves that Jesus Christ is in you—unless you actually fail the test?” 2ndCorinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭5‬)

So, we are told to examine ourselves “to see that we are in the faith,” and to see that none of those “pass the test” things apply to us!

How can we tell? How do we know if we “pass the test?”

We can definitely know - and will be able to tell, with certainty, if we are consistently reading and studying in the Word of God because He has made these things clear in His Word so that we can have assurance to Know beyond a doubt that we are right with God and headed for heaven. God wants us to have assurance - that’s part of the reason He left us His written Word.

Salvation requires only faith in what Jesus did on the cross - that He died and shed Hos blood as our substitute - in our place - so that we can be forgiven and set free from a life of sin. Yet - Even this we are not required to have on our own, but God will give us this faith if we ask Him. We are required to have it - but not required to produce it. God’s Love always supplies whatever His Love demands.

The following 6 things are just ways that we can know for sure - by symptom - that we have truly passed from death to life - and that we do indeed believe and have this faith that God requires.

These are not ways to “BE saved” - these are ways we can see that we truly do belong to God.

These things will all be happening in our lives as a “result” of this faith.

If we do not find these things in our life, then we can still pray that God will produce faith in us, and with it the “fruit in keeping with repentance.” (Matthew 3:8)

We have assurance of eternal life if we believe "in the name of the Son of God" (I John 5:13; 4:15; 5.1)

We have assurance of eternal life if we love the Father and the Son rather than the world, and if we depend on God's guidance and power to overcome the world's influence - by resting in HIS ability and not our own - as He writes His Word on our hearts, it literally becomes a part of us, and a part of who we are.

We are brand new creations. The old has gone and the new has come. (2ndCorinthians 5:17)

We are sincerely trying to live by his principles and obey his commands.

“And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says 'I know him' but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, but whoever keeps his word, in him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may know that we are in him" (1 John 2:3-5; 3:24; 5:2; John 8:31, 51; 14:21-24; 15:9-14; Heb. 5:9).

This “keeping of His commandments” is a FRUIT - and not by a legalistic effort.

It’s a natural fruit - or symptom - of being right with God - if there is change, and we are progressively becoming more like Him and less like our old self, and this is happening sincerely and genuinely BECAUSE of being His.

We consistently and persistently try to do what is right by God's standard.

“If you know that he is righteous, you may be sure that everyone who “practices” righteousness has been born of him" (1stJohn 2:29

…Whoever “makes a practice” of sinning is of the devil"

1st John 3:7-10

…We have assurance of eternal life if we show true love for others. We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brothers. By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him" (1 John 3:14, 19; 2:9-11; 3:23; 4:8, 11-12, 16, 20; 5:1; John 13:34-35).

“Beloved, we are now children of God, and what we will be has not yet been revealed. We know that when Christ appears, we will be like Him, for we will see Him as He is. And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as Christ is pure.” (1stJohn‬ ‭3‬:‭2‬-‭3‬)

“whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked" (1 John 2:6; John 8:12).

We have assurance of eternal life if we believe, accept and remain in a right relation to the "word of life - We base our lives on His original message.

“As for you, let what you have heard from the beginning remain in you. If it does, you will also remain in the Son and in the Father.” (1stJohn‬ ‭2‬:‭24)

Part 2 - A Note:

It’s still shocking to me in many ways to read all of these words that I never even knew were there the first years that I was saved. I used to rely on preachers and teachers in books, in churches, and on tv in order to learn.

I assumed they knew more than I did, so I never realized the importance of knowing the Word on my own. Many more of them than I ever could have imagined are in error and deception.

As a result I was deceived so many times, and eventually became so confused about Grace and sin and forgiveness and righteousness, and all of it.

I Thank God for putting a deep love for the truth and for His Word in my heart that keeps me digging when things don’t make sense. I want to understand - even if it shakes up everything I think I know.

One thing I have come to know by understanding and revelation of the truth of His Word - is that I am saved. And it’s all His doing, and none of mine.

And when this body I am in dies, I will merely change my mode of transportation into spiritual mode, and I can say with complete God-given faith, with Job, “As for me, I will behold Your face in righteousness; when I awake, I will be satisfied in Your presence.” (Psalms‬ ‭17‬:‭15‬)

Part 3 - A Reminder when the devil tries telling you that you do not belong to God…

First of all, we should absolutely use that as an opportunity to examine ourselves.

2nd of all, read the 6th chapter of The Gospel of John. You will find in there plenty ammunition to fight back with.

You will find there the truth that we cannot even want to be God’s unless He draws us to Himself. So if we want you to be saved it’s only because He deposited that desire into our heart. It says in there, that no one can come to Jesus unless God draws them, it that no one can snatch you out of His hand either. Check it out. ⚔️📖⚔️ The truth will set you free!! Bury His Word down in your heart, it’s your sword because it is the sure weapon against the enemy!!!

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vinetae · 1 year

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Can we get a part two of my love? 😭❤️

A/n: Yes you can! Had to decide whether I wanted JK to care for Y/n or them both be sick together. Hope you like it! Thanks for the feedback <33

Warnings: Light makeouts, fluff, reflections on the confession, and more fluff. Y/n tasting like Jungkook's mother's chicken noodle soup lmao. Gross metions of sick symptoms (nasty coughs and detailed sneezes).

Part 1

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"Son of a bi-"

sneeze

Your eyes were itchy and swollen, nose running faster than Niagara Falls, and body all achy and stiff. Thanks to Jungkook, you'd gotten sick two days after he had. Now here you lay, tangled up in his Matte black big comforter, with snot just oozing out both of your nostrils.

Your nose felt fuller than when you go to an all-you can-eat buffet. Nose felt more stuffed full than all the things the girls from high school whispered about you behind your back.

Nose feeling fuller than-

"You look so hot right now." Jungkook giggles, erupting into a nasty fit of phlegm filled coughs. His chest sounded more wet than he makes you.

and that's hard to beat.

Your head slowly swivels to the side, eyeing his delusional self in retort. "I am extremely hot. Your duvet is too fucking big."

His lips curve into a smirk as he reaches across to your side of the bed, blowing his nose into a once, pure white tissue. "That's what she sai-" More coughs to come.

It was like an episode of the Three Stooges. Dumb and Dumber. Super Troopers, and all of those stupidly comedic shows we all loved as a kid.

His black locks fall into view, as his hand runs along Bam's curved back. The small -big- puppy -dog- had hotdog-ed himself right in between the middle of you two, making it impossible to cuddle anymore. Who cared anyways? The last thing you wanted to do was-

"Jungkook.." Your eyes take to the right side, eyeing the small little tent caught between his legs. Your eyes roll. "Are you seriously hard right now?"

A small blush flushes his cheeks, lifting his knee up to make the errection a bit more concealed. His voice, tiny and guilt-traced. "Noooo.."

A chuckle erupts from your chest, finding this whole ironic situation one of the dumbest things you've ever done. You're probably wondering what happened after your little makeout-confess-sesh that you two had shared a few nights ago. well, it went a little something like-

"Fuck, you're so hot, baby-"

Your head lulls back, as his lips press open, heated kisses along the side of your neck. Hands traveling to the innards of your loose fitting Tee, while your hips bared down onto his. Bam had gone out of the room, to give you two some space. -He couldn't handle the bed shaking so much, poor little puppy-

Your fingertips trace along the roots of your scalp, nails lightly grazing as you press your forehead to his. Lips crashing into one another's like a crazy, unannounced storm in the middle of the ocean. All had been going well, until-

"aH CHOO-"

And that's how Jungkook ended up sneezing into your mouth. Pretty crazy -mostly nasty- huh? Yeah, you weren't so pleased either. I mean you've heard of rainbow kisses but not phlegm kisses. That's a new one, for sure.

Jungkook's fingertips extend out, tracing along the heated skin of your exposed thigh which had been using the cooling air as a sort of way to lower your body temperature. You groan, twisting over to the other side, not wanting to deal with his horny ass right now.

Right now, you just wanted to sleep.

But noooo.

This fucker had to go and get hard by you coughing.

"Babeee" He whines, chest still clogged from the infection you two are sharing. He's quick to shoo Bam to his own bed at the entrance of Jungkook's bedroom. The dog lazily rises, mouth hanging low from sleep still halfway controlling his movements. However, once he's gone, Jungkook's quick to take his place. Wrapping you up in his arms like a Christmas present.

You groan out, arms extending to try and pry yourself from his arms, as he's trailing light kisses along the straights of your neck. Moans eliciting from his chest, as his mouth moves downwards. He's quick to crawl on top, towering your body with his own, largely defined and built one.

Your hands push at his chest lazily. "I thought being sick lowers people's sex drive."

A tugs his lips, as his mouth collides onto yours, not giving a damn about your bad breath. Kissing you, had been like reward for him.

And he wanted first place.

Your conscious looses control, hands coiling around his neck to bring him in deeper. Tongues sharing a sloppy but romantic exchange in the midst of this sick fest.

Once you two pull away -both having a heaping cough exit- his head gently presses to your chest, as his body drapes over yours. The blanket you didn't know you always wanted.

"I'm sorry for getting you sick, baby." The tip of his index finger draws lazy figure-eights to your arm, using one of his many talents to create a piece only he could see. Spoiler Alert: It was of you.

Your arm slings around to catch his body in a loose hug before responding. The air-conditioner clunking in the background, as you two lay there, listening to the sounds of one another's heartbeats.

"You know.. if we hadn't gotten sick, would we have even gotten together in the first place?" His head raises at the question, thinking for a second.

"No, most definitely not." Your eyebrow quirks at his answer, body moving to prop up just a bit as you look down at him with a certain expression. One that had been a mix between hurt and confusion.

"Why.. not?"

A smile tugs the corners of his lips, before scooting on up to cover your entire body once more. Supporting his weight onto the faith he held in his greatly defined biceps. "Because you would've turned me down."

"What? No I would not."

He hums. "Mhm, you would've. You clam up when you get out on the spot."

"Psh, everyone does that." You push his body to the side, kicking the comforter away as a wave of sickly heat runs it's coarse through your body.

He twists to lay on his side, one arm supporting his head as he continues. "Yeah, but I saw you doing that little thing you do with the ring your mother got you."

"The spinning one?"

He nods.

"Hah, it's just a fidget." He scoots closer, lips, grazing across yours before backing you into an imaginary corner.

"Mhm, a nervous one."

Rolling your eyes, you push at his chest once more. A little nudge towards the way you wanted him to go. Changing the subject quickly. Today wasn't a -'let's get into past traumas' kinda day. Maybe another time.

"Yeah yeah, go brush your teeth. You taste like chicken soup." He chuckles, walking over to your side before scooping you up bridal style. His head nuzzles close to you, as he walks towards the bathroom, setting your bum to the counter.

Hands trapping you on both sides, as he leans in close, pressing a light peck to your nose tip, before exhaling a relieved breath.

"I'm so glad I got sick."

#jungkook #bangtan #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x female reader #bts jungkook #jjk #jk #jungkook fluff #bts jk #my love part 2 #jeon jungkook #bts #bts masterlist #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader

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ya-pucking-nerd · 1 year

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it’s always the boy next door - t.jost

A/N: Hi!! It's me! I'm @ilyasorokinn mystery fic writer as a part of @antoineroussel winter fic exchange! I do apologize for posting this so close to the deadline, but I hope you enjoy!!

Warning: alcohol consumption, some minor swearing

Buffalo, New York. Stereotypically one of the coldest cities in the United States. Typically, people visit in the summer, but more so for Niagara Falls. Or they visit in the winter because of the skiing. People don’t generally move to Buffalo, especially after 7 feet of snow had just fallen. Nevertheless, you watched through the peephole in your apartment door as movers entered the apartment across the hall with boxes of belongings.

You texted all your friends and received responses similar to the ones you were thinking of yourself.

“Who moves to Buffalo in the middle of November?” “Do you think they know about the snow?” “Why now? People don’t usually get job transfers until after the new year.”

Dismissing all your friends, you thought it might be nice to make a meal for your new neighbor. Moving is hard work; the last thing people feel like doing after moving into a new apartment is making dinner. So, you decided on a safe lasagna. When it cooled down, you grabbed your keys and brought it over.

After knocking, you heard a crash and a “Shit!” You had to bite on your bottom lip to hush yourself. The laughter soon died in your throat as the front door opened, revealing your new neighbor.

“Tyson?!” you exclaimed, probably annoying your neighbors. “Oh my god! Why are you here?”

“Y/N.” Tyson looked shocked. He looked nearly the same as the day he left you.

**Flashback**

You and Tyson were both 18, just graduated from high school. Tyson was ready to begin training and playing for North Dakota. His dream of becoming an NHL hockey player was so close to coming true. On the other hand, you had your sights set on the University of Toronto. Their business program was one of the top programs in Canada. It broke your heart to leave Tyson.

In the two weeks you had left with Tyson, you spent just about every minute with him. You took his parent’s boat out on the lake. You slipped a case of beer past your parents and drank with all your friends. And he kissed you on the last day, at the “goodbye forever Tyson” bonfire. He was your first kiss. That kind of stuff made an impression.

And then, he left. The texts were constant, detailing his day and how much he missed you and home. And then, they became less frequent. And then they stopped. Except for the odd “happy birthday” text, you and Tyson never communicated. You blamed yourself for becoming so attached. After all, you were half drunk, feeling a range of emotions because Tyson was leaving. It probably didn’t mean anything to him, even though it meant the world to you.

**End Flashback**

Tyson was still standing in front of you, mouth open.

“Are you going to invite me in? The lasagna’s getting hot.” you joked. He nodded his head, still in disbelief.

Tyson’s apartment was beautiful. Your apartment view was a nice pretty brick wall, but his view was the skyline of Buffalo. He had all modern appliances, a huge living area, and what you assumed was a giant bedroom. You were so busy admiring the view that you didn’t notice Tyson staring at you.

“Tys. This place is amazing!”

He scratched the back of his head, finally looking around, saying, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? Tyson, my view is a brick wall.” You hoped Tyson got the hint that you wanted to spend some time in his apartment. With him.

He laughed, then opened the lasagna. “Y/N, this is a lot of lasagna for one person. How much do you think I eat?”

“Tys, you can just save some for leftovers.” You said quickly, forgetting that he had moved in that day. “Y/N, I don’t have a fridge yet!” He laughed. He pointed to the fridge-sized space between the cabinets. You hadn’t had the chance to look at his kitchen. “It’s not getting delivered until Tuesday.”

“Wait, Tyson. Why are you here? Did you get traded?”

“Minnesota put me on waivers. Crazy thing is they didn’t even tell me until it happened. I’m just glad I was picked up. Would’ve been embarrassing, eh?” He shrugged his shoulders. Instantly, you knew it was a sore subject for him, understandably so.

“Well, it’s getting kind of late, Tys. But I’m glad I came over. I missed you. Maybe whenever you’re free next, I can show you around?” You picked at the ends of your shirt, nervous that Tyson caught the way your voice strained when you said, “I missed you.”

“I’m free on Thursday night.” He was smiling. “My first home game is Friday, too. Do you think you could come? You can even bring some friends. I’ll get you seats. I just…” he trailed off.

“Tys, of course I want to come. I have two friends. Would you mind if I invited them? I’d love for you to meet them.” You replied, filling in the space. You assumed he wanted to say he wanted someone familiar cheering him on in his first game for his new team.

Blushing, Tyson nodded his head. He pulled out his phone and handed it to you. “I got a new number when I moved here. I’ll text you the tickets for you and two friends. And, then, after the game, you guys can meet me in the tunnel.” You typed in your number and gave it back before engulfing Tyson in a hug. “Thanks, Tys. I have work in the morning, but I’ll give you a tour of the city Thursday night.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Tyson Jost was your new neighbor. The Tyson Jost that you kissed when you were 18. You must have had the worst luck, running into the guy who broke your heart even though it was never technically his to break. Or maybe it was the best luck.

~~ Thursday evening came. You did have a meeting but slid it to a remote Friday morning meeting. While you worried that you were turning back into your 18-year-old self with a massive schoolgirl crush on your best friend, you swallowed your feelings. All you wanted was a nice night out. You haven’t seen some of the attractions you planned to show Tyson tonight. You only knew of them.

It was cold in Buffalo, a whole 8°F. You were bundled in all your warmest winter clothes waiting in the lobby of your apartment complex for Tyson. He met you on time, and you left the complex chatting about your week since you last saw each other.

You found your car in the lot, and you half-expected Tyson to laugh at your silly old car. The buttons stopped working to unlock your car, so you had to use the key to open it. It smelled a little musty from the old man you bought it from. The maximum speed on the darn thing was about 50 miles per hour. But you loved it more than anything because it was your first adult purchase without your parents’ help.

But Tyson didn’t laugh. He smiled when you told him stories about your car. And he tapped the dashboard and said, “Good job” when you parked in a parking lot of your first tourist destination—Canalside in downtown Buffalo.

You told Tyson that before you became so busy with work, you used to take your daily jogs here. It was beautiful in summer but even prettier in the fall as the leaves turned orange and red.

Next up, you walked to the Liberty Building. The statues on top of the building were lit up, which made them sparkle if you looked at them just right.

As you walked through the streets of Buffalo, you started shivering. Tyson grabbed your hands. “Y/N! Your hands are freezing.” And with that, he took both hands and cupped them with his larger ones, blowing his warm breath on your hands. He closed his hands around yours for a few seconds while gazing into your eyes. At that point, you were so close to just smashing your lips together, but you knew you couldn’t.

He didn’t deserve that. His ex-best friend comes onto him two days after he moves to a brand new city with brand new teammates and brand-new expectations. No. You couldn’t do that to Tyson.

You walked and talked for about an hour. You were beyond freezing, even with Tyson holding your hand in his. You unlocked your car. The drive back to your apartment complex was pretty quiet. Tyson was fidgeting with his hands.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “I have a question, and you can totally say no. I would understand.”

“What’s up?”

“The Sabres are having a holiday party next Saturday. Would you come with me? I just want to make a good impression. I know we haven’t really been close, but I could use a friend. And I can introduce you to the guys tomorrow night at the game. Then, it won’t be so awkward.”

You nodded your head, thinking about the offer. “I can. Don’t you think it’ll be weird, though? Did you tell the team you’re bringing someone?”

“I didn’t tell them. I was hoping I could tell them you’re my girlfriend. I know it’ll be weird, but I really want to make a good impression. Investors will be there and love seeing guys have good girlfriends.”

You tossed the thought around and found yourself thinking back to that summer he kissed you. If you pretended to be his girlfriend, you would, at minimum, receive a forehead kiss. The deal sounded good to your 18-year-old still-had-a-crush-on-Tyson self. You couldn’t turn this down, even if it was fake.

You nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ll go with you and be your fake girlfriend, Tyson.”

“Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot, and if you ever have an event and need a date, I’ll be there. Pinky swear.” He held up his pinky, and you took your hand off the wheel to lock your pinky fingers together.

Friday night was here. Lexi and Marco, the two friends you invited with you, met right after work so you could all drive together to KeyBank Center. They spent the whole trip teasing you about your new neighbor. You understood, but at the same time, you knew that the chances Tyson liked you were slim to none.

In his first game as a Sabre, Tyson got in a scrum. It was nearly a fight if the refs hadn’t interfered. He kept smirking on the bench and chewing on that damn mouthguard. He picked up the habit in high school, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Your emotions were out of control. You were proud of Tyson for showing his loyalty to his new team, but you hated when he got in fights. You always wished that hockey would be a no-contact sport.

You, Lexi, and Marco flashed your shiny passes to the security guard, and he let you down towards the waiting area for friends and family. You paced around, seeing a few women and children, most likely the wives of the Buffalo Sabres. They seemed to all be in a little bubble like you were peering into something you would never quite get to be a part of.

Tyson had to do media. Of course, he did. He got in a scrum in his first game. The media was going to eat him up. The newest darling of the Buffalo Sabres. This meant that it took a little longer for him to find you. Most of the men had come out of the locker room, met with their significant others, and left.

When he finally came out, he was sweaty but had the largest smile. He beelined straight for you and gave you the biggest hug you’ve ever been given. Tyson dropped his bag, wrapped his arms around your waist, and lifted you up. He breathed deeply and simply wouldn’t let go. Lexi and Marco were sharing knowing looks, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

“Wanna go home?” Tyson mumbled into your shoulder. You nodded but looked back at Lexi and Marco. They mouthed, “Go!” You mouthed back, “Thank you,” before going with Tyson when he suddenly grabbed your hand. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you suddenly felt a blush across your cheeks. Using your other hand, you untucked some of your hair from your ear in an effort to conceal the blush. “In case someone’s in the parking lot,” Tyson explained after he cleared his throat.

He dropped your hand once you got to his car. You felt sad but then had to remind yourself that this whole thing was fake. Everything was fake. The drive home was silent, but neither you nor Tyson filled the silence. You were falling back into that comfort of two best friends. You knew you had a crush on Tyson, but this fake dating thing was going to mess with your head. Here you were, blurring the line between friend and boyfriend, but Tyson didn’t even seem fazed.

That night, you went to sleep so incredibly confused.

The rest of the week went by quickly. Tyson had a quick trip to Boston and down to the Rangers but then came back up Thursday night. Friday was an odd day off. The guys had gone to TopGolf in the morning. You were at work and then had to go pick up your dress. It was a long navy blue dress with rhinestones lining the small slit against your right knee. You were planning on wearing some silver jewelry.

Tyson knocked on your door right as you put your left heel on. You hobbled to the door. It would be a painful night in these shoes, but you would do anything for Tyson.

When you answered the door, Tyson was left speechless, running his eyes over you.

“You look good – I mean incredible. You look incredible, Y/N. Sorry, just forgot what words were.” He looked great in a light grey suit with a navy blue dress shirt to match your dress.

“You look great, too, Tyson.” You gave him a hug, grabbed your clutch, and walked out with him. He grabbed your hand on the way out.

The event went well. You mostly talked with the women of the Buffalo Sabres, or as they called themselves, the Lady Buffs.

Tyson was as sweet as could be. He was always around, asking if you needed a refill or just keeping his arm around your waist. You got pictures together with people that asked, and he told everyone you were his girlfriend. He was the perfect fake boyfriend.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end. You left the event as the donors and important executives of the Buffalo Sabres began leaving. You wanted to make an impression and not leave early like a few younger players did. You knew Tyson wanted to show how serious he was about Buffalo, and you wanted to play the role of Tyson’s girlfriend perfectly. Maybe psychologically, it would make him want to keep dating.

You and Tyson held hands the whole way to your apartments. He noticed you didn’t have a jacket to keep you warm, so he draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. He really was the best fake boyfriend. Tyson stopped you before you could keep going back to your apartment.

“Y/N, do you want to come to mine? I just wanna wind down, and it’s easier with a friend. I can get you a glass of wine if you want.”

You smiled and nodded your head. He opened the door for you. The apartment was slightly more disheveled than when you had seen it last. He had been busy decorating and purchasing furniture.

You shook off your shoes and Tyson’s suit jacket, then followed Tyson further inside. You were lost in thought. You were trying so hard to push off the thoughts that this felt so natural it could have been real. But it was all fake. Tyson made it explicitly clear. He wanted to wind down with a friend.

He led you to his bedroom and sifted through his drawers. He gave you a pair of old Avalanche sweatpants and a North Dakota sweatshirt.

“You can take the bathroom,” he said softly. You missed the way he watched your form walk into the ensuite bathroom.

When you walked back out of the bathroom, Tyson was gone. You found him, shirtless, in the kitchen holding two bottles. You were still reeling from all the feelings you’d felt throughout the night.

“Red or white?” His voice interrupted your thoughts. “Red,” you answered back. He nodded his head and poured you a glass. You grabbed the glass while he kept the bottle in his hand and grabbed a beer with his other. He nodded towards the couch. He grabbed the remote, opened Netflix, and put on a random show that neither of you was particularly interested in.

You fell asleep on his couch that night but woke up in Tyson’s guest bedroom with a blanket and a hangover. But there was a water bottle and a bottle of Advil on the nightstand next to your fully charged phone. He was so thoughtful. But the gig was up. Why was he still performing boyfriend duties?

You slipped out of the guest room and met the smell of bacon. Tyson’s head popped around the corner. He was smiling and listening to music through headphones.

“I didn’t want to wake you with my loud music. How do you like your eggs?” His head bobbed to the beat of whatever song he had going on.

“Sunny side up, please, Tys. Thanks. You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“Y/N, you had at least three glasses at the party and one when we got home. Don’t even tell me your head isn’t pounding so hard you’re leaning forward at a 45-degree angle.” he laughed.

After breakfast, you went home. You were still wearing Tyson’s clothes, and he didn’t stop you from walking out the door. Everything just felt so confusing. You decided taking a nap would temporarily ease all of your worries.

It was pretty easy to avoid Tyson after the Sabres’ party. He had an 11-day road trip that wouldn’t bring him back to Buffalo until December 23rd. It was easy to text him, “Busy with work stuff!” because you didn’t have to look at his face. You were an absolute sucker for him.

Tyson texted you on Christmas Eve.

Tyson: You’re ignoring me :( Come hang out with me.

Y/N: Am not. Was busy. You come here. Your place doesn’t have any Christmas decorations :p

Tyson: On my way!

You turned on Christmas music and waited for Tyson to burst through in Tyson fashion. Sure enough, he opened your door two minutes after you sent the text.

“Y/N, it’s really not safe to leave your door unlocked. Someone could steal you.” It’s a shame he didn’t know he had already stolen your heart.

You handed him a mug of hot chocolate to shut him up for now.

“Why didn’t you go home for Christmas, Tyson?”

“Didn’t work out. And no one really wants to visit me here in Buffalo. Besides, who would you spend Christmas with, then? Who would you watch all your movies with you? And how would you get any presents?” He knew those were your favorite parts. And gosh darn it, it felt right to spend a Christmas with Tyson even though your fake dating façade was done with.

You huffed and grabbed the remote and turned on your favorite Christmas movie. Tyson grabbed your legs, swinging them into his lap. He began to rub small circles on your ankle, leaving you unable to focus on the movie.

The night carried on, several more mugs of hot chocolate drank, and a few shots of peppermint schnapps snuck in, too, but you always ended up with your legs on Tyson’s lap.

You ended up falling asleep again. This time, you woke up cuddled with Tyson. You were both positioned in a sitting-upright position, but your head was on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and your legs were tangled together. Your head was spinning once again. How did you end up like this?

You didn’t want to wake Tyson up. It was Christmas, after all. You let him sleep for about thirty more minutes before gently lifting his arm off your body.

His half-asleep subconscious felt this and pulled you closer to him. “Not yet,” he grumbled. He nuzzled his face into your hair and sighed deeply. “Let me just pretend this is real for a little longer.”

His words shocked you. You bolted straight up. He realized what he had said and took a deep breath.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N. Also, I’minlovewithyouandIwasjusttooafraidtotellyou.” Your eyes got even wider if that was even possible. “I’ve probably been in love with you for a while. I don’t know. You make me feel happy and safe. And that’s like girlfriend feelings. And I like it. And I like you a lot more than being my friend. I know I’ve only been around for a few weeks, so there’s no obligation for you to return my feelings. Would you wanna give it a shot, though?”

Your answer? Smashing your lips to his. It was just like the movies—fireworks in your belly and warmth spreading over your skin. Tyson grabbed your head and pulled you closer, only allowing you to separate when you were begging for air.

“That’s my answer then, eh?” You playfully whacked him with a throw pillow.

“Shut up,” you grumbled before leaning in again.

“Wait, hold on! I gotta get something!” He left the apartment and returned with a wrapped box and a card.

“Tys! I didn’t think we were getting each other something! I feel so awful!”

“Just read it, Y/N.” He looked absolutely giddy at the thought.

The card read: Dear Y/N, I’m so glad that I found you here in Buffalo. I thought that I would never see you again after that summer before I left. You’re truly a blessing to have in my life. You keep me sane, and I don’t think I would’ve handled the move to Buffalo without you. I appreciate you beyond words can explain. Thanks for spending Christmas with me. Love, Tyson.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Before you could even speak, Tyson handed you a tissue. And then the box. You carefully opened it. It was a little robot?

“There’s two robots. And you can draw on their bellies. And what I draw, you’ll see on your screen until you decide to draw, and then I’ll see it on my screen. No matter where we are. Like if I’m on a road trip. I thought it would be nice.”

It was the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever received. You hugged him tightly, so glad you were allowed to do it for as long as you pleased. You kissed his nose in appreciation before tackling him into your couch for some Christmas morning cuddles.

~~ The end <3

I really do hope you enjoyed!!

Tagging some extra moots who might enjoy: @jostystyles @2manytabsopen @fallinallincurls @slapshot-to-the-heart @typical-simplelove

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #nhl fic #hockey fic #winter fic exchange 2k23 #buffalo sabres #buffalo sabres fic #emma writes

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sushisocks · 6 months

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so sorry for this weird ask, i have no idea what else i can try to find this out but you seem like a sean expert. im trying to figure out the year he left ireland, and for that i need his age in 1899.

so, how old do you think sean is?

GOD, this is such a good question, not a weird ask at all, and one I could go on FOREVER about. The question as to Sean's age is one which HAUNTS me, given the ambiguity of it. However we DO have some hints to go off.

First off, we can assume Sean is younger than Arthur, going off his line about Sean being like 'an annoying younger brother' to him. We also can assume he's younger than John, as John refers to him as 'kid' in the game. Javier, who seems to be around John's age as well, also refers to Sean as his 'little friend', most likely referencing the other's age. In that same vein, we can assume Sean is older than Lenny, who he calls kid - and who is the ONLY one Sean calls kid, besides Jack of course.

That all leaves us in an age range of the early to mid 20s - 20-25 is where I usually have him. I also usually veer towards the lower end of that spectrum tbh, and that is in large part because of how he is characterized and clearly supposed to be read. There's not only just a need to prove oneself, but also a youthful exuberance & arrogance to Sean we only really see mirrored in Lenny, though it shows differently between the two it is all CLEARLY there for both of them. And the way Sean treats Lenny as a peer, while still calling him 'kid' at almost every opportunity, very much reads as 'heheh, I am (barely) older than you and finally get to call someone kid instead of being called it' you know?

There's also the matter of his friendship with Mary-Beth, who is presumably about 21-22 like Arthur asked her. The fact that Sean asks her to go with him robbing that one stagecoach is in my opinion a hint of him seeing her as peer as well.

So, like, narratively, characteristically, he SHOULD for all intents and purposes probably be around 21-23. That's what makes sense to me, at least.

WHAT THEN GETS ME is, as you say, when did he leave Ireland?? Because, okay, let's talk about daddy dearest Darragh for a second!!

Note of his death is published in 1889! A full decade before the events of the game!! Which is SUPER surprising considering how Sean talks about him, but also makes it clearer why it's easier for him to speak about him so lightly - that loss has been well-mourned by now, though it makes the fact that Sean speaks so much of him even more tragic imho. They were CLOSE, Darragh was probably Sean's BEST friend growing up, and losing him at that age would've SUCKED so so much!! 10-13 is a very rough age bracket to lose your only guardian and to deal with the amount of upheaval Sean does in the time after.

The timeline given us by the newspaper scrap we can find at Clemens Point is somewhat incongruent with what I found when it came to the history of Fenian activity in Ireland in the 1800s. While there was a Fenian Rising, it was very much in 1867, and I could not find Galway having any significant role to play during it, compared to Dublin, for example. This means we can assume this Fenian Uprising spoken of in the scrap to be a fabrication on R*'s behalf. The Fenian Raids into Canada were VERY much a thing, and in 1866 there even was one in Ridgeway, right by Niagara Falls, as mentioned in the news scrap - though I found a higher death count for the incident on Wikipedia lol

So that gives us a little bit of a timeline! Darragh sets Galway on fire in 1860, fucks off to the US to join a Fenian Raid into Canada, presumably intended to be R*'s version of the Battle of Ridgeway, before eventually RETURNING to Ireland and getting involved in politics as an Irish Republican. What a complicated ass backstory for a character who doesn't even show up in the game beyond his name lmfao

ANYWAY furthermore, the newspaper scrap says the law has been hunting him for years. I mean, that makes sense, given how much back and forth he does over the decades. Let's for arguments' sake say Darragh stayed in the US for a little while before returning to Ireland and getting involved in the political landscape, and that Sean was born ca 1878. Maybe Darragh starts seeing the need to hide some years later; as his past starts closing in on him. They hide out for a while in different locations around Ireland, before the law finds them in Clifden, and THAT'S presumably what makes Darragh flee to the US. We don't know how long the manhunt lasted, but since they'd not gotten past Boston, and specifically quoting Sean's 'we never got that new start' line when talking about his past, I think it's fair to say that they weren't in the US for very long before Darragh died. THOUGH I'd argue they were there long enough for Darragh to lower his shoulders and sleep soundly enough to not hear someone sneak into his bedroom. Also, long enough for him to have found a residence for him and Sean to stay in. So, I'd say they might've had a year or so in the US together?

Now, taking into account the time frame it might've taken for news to get back to the UK, and for it to then be printed, I think it's not unreasonable to believe Darragh died in late 1888, or early 1889. Which means he and Sean probably arrived in the US in the latter half of 1887, while Sean was 9-10.

Anyway, if you're wondering if this changes my thoughts in regard of how long I think Sean was in reform school, I think yeah maybe!! But I still don't think he was there more than 2-3 years max lol. Idk why I thought Sean was older when Darragh died, but the math & research I've now done contradicts that assumption for sure!!

Thank you for the ask!! I definitely went OFF, and if you find my timeline doesn't work for you, that's completely fine!! I had a lot of fun looking into this anywho, and if any one part of it helps you out, that's more than good enough for me!!!!

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