#man I should really walk more but Idk where—LAKE. SHORE. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simsandfiction · 4 years

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Camping Confessions Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Grayson Dolan x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After setting up camp, you and Grayson decide to go for a walk. You stumble upon a secluded lake. OooOh wonder what happens next!!!??

You were nervous about being the one to help Grayson put the tent up. You’d been there, hidden behind a camera, to witness the brothers try to figure out the instructions. It always ended in a big quarrel, and you didn’t do well with conflict.

“Whatever you do, don’t let this corner go.” He proceeded to fold the metal rod together, and slide it through the hoops, just like the directions had read. The fact that he read directions before diving in was a quality you admired in Grayson; it reminded you of yourself. “Okay, now slowly let it go.”

“Is this a trick question?”

His hair flopped as he looked up at you from his squatting position. His facial expression read -- are you joking? -- before his eyes lightened and a smile spread across his face. “No. This half should be able to stand on its own.”

And it did.

“Yes!” Grayson was quick to jump up and meet your raised hands for an ‘epic high-five.’ Both your hands stung a bit, but neither of you felt the need to mention it. You still had another half of the tent to build, after all.

You lingered for a second, admiring his bare shoulders exposed by the white muscle top he sported. Now that the boys weren’t uploading weekly, Grayson had been spending more time in the gym. You knew that. But it wasn’t until today, with the sun glistening down on his tan complexion as his arms stretched to fold the next rod together, that you realized just how much of his free time had been dedicated to his newfound pass-time.

Holding down the tent just like you had before, you let your mind wander. You debated on whether he would be strong enough to lift you -- to hold you -- against a wall as his mouth worked over your neck. You imagined you’d either have your hands on his shoulders, or tugging at his lengthy locks, or even running down his bare back as-

“And for the big reveal!” Grayson stepped away from the tent, motioning at you to do the same. He laughed like a kid as your hand released the nylon string and the tent didn’t topple over.

“We pitched a tent!” His embrace was sudden and forceful, almost knocking you off your feet. His strong grip was quick to wrap around the other side of you, keeping you from falling. Even with a thin layer of sweat and outdoors, he still smelled like fresh linens.

It took you a moment, but soon your arms were wrapped around his neck. Laughter and cheers surrounded the two of you as you jumped up and down, moving together as one. “We did it!”

The two of you had settled down and resumed your places in folding chairs. You sat with the cooler in front of you, digging down to the bottom as Grayson watched with an intent stare.

“We don’t want to fly through our P-N-J’s just yet!”

You handed him a sandwich and grabbed one for yourself as well before shutting the cooler. Without a word, you opened the reusable container and sunk your teeth into its soft bread. Your mouth was sticky with peanut butter as you mumbled, “I packed extra.”

His eyes danced down to your closed mouth smile, and his face softened. Something between awe and amazement plucked at his heart strings as he opened the container, taking a bite of his own.

“I’m back!” Ethan was marked up and down with scratches and splotches of dirt. He flopped down backwards into the last fold out chair, across from you and Grayson. “I got lost.”

“What do you mean you got lost? How did you get lost going to pee?”

With the flip of a switch, every ounce of anger or annoyance you’d spent the last hour trying to shake out of Grayson had built back up. His eyes bled with disdain toward his brother as he ripped out chunks from his sandwich.

You stood from your chair, grabbing the bottle of water from the cup holder. “E, Grayson and I are going to go check out the area. We’ll be back in a little bit.”

Watching you two stroll off, arms brushing and sharing small smiles, Ethan couldn’t help but to feel upset. He was happy for his brother, he could tell there was something going on between the two of you, but he just wanted to engage in a conversation without feeling like he wasn’t meant to be there.

“So I’m thinking we should look for firewood?”

“Didn’t know we had an expert survivalist on our hands.” Grayson’s shoulder bumped against yours as you squeezed down a narrow path. He smiled down at you, watching you watch your feet for any sticks or pebbles that might cause you to trip.

“Learned from the best.”

It was his turn to look at his feet.

“You’re cute when you blush.” You felt like you were walking on air, waiting for his reply. You were sure that the wind was going to trip you and your nervous limbs, sending you face-first into humiliation.

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

The two of you walked with quiet smiles on your faces, until you came across a lake. The body of water was surrounded by trees on each side, with the falling evening sun reflecting off of the still water.

“Last one in the water has to build the fire!”

Grayson knew he’d be the one stuck with the task, but he enjoyed the way your face lit up at the challenge. So, he matched your pace down the hill and raced to strip down to his underwear. Just as he had jumped off the rock, your squeal was muffled by a splash.

You pushed the water from your eyes just in time to see him resurface and do the same. Paddling over to him, you smirk. “Guess we can’t all be winners. It’s a shame, too. Your fire won’t last fifteen minutes.”

“Are you questioning my survival skills?”

“I might be.”

“You’re going under.”

A yelp escaped your mouth as you tore through the water, desperate to get back to shore before you got pulled underwater by the man stalking right behind you. When you could touch, you used your feet to try and tread through the water faster, but Grayson was able to reach your ankle and pull you down into the cold.

He let you catch your breath and wipe your eyes before slowly stalking toward you. With every step he took forward, you took one back. The dance, a mixture of heavy breathing and intense stares, continued until your back was against a rock. “Now, what was that about being a winner?”

With his hands resting on either side of your head and the mischievous glint in his eyes, you were unable to find words. You tried, you really did, but when his head tilted down and his hot breath fanned over your neck, you gave up.

His hand rested at your chin, turning your head to meet his eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Stop me if you don’t want this.”

Alarm bells were going off in your mind, reminding you that this was your best friend. Somehow, as his eyes fell down to your lips, you found them quieting down and being overtaken with thoughts. Do it do it do it do it do it do it.

So you did.

You inched your head forward, connecting your lips. They were wet and soft and needy against yours. Your lips battled for dominance, which he easily won as your head came to rest back against the rock.

A soft moan escaped his mouth as your fingers tugged at his wet locks, and his hips involuntarily jutted against your stomach. The hand that had been on your chin was now cupping your jaw, pushing your head to the side as he left open mouth kisses along your neck.

Chills ran though your body and your own sounds began to escape your mouth. You found your leg trying to wrap around his waist, trying to — needing to — get closer.

“Jump.”

It was a simple command, one that caused you to open your eyes for the first time. You were met with his eyes, which held no trace of a joking matter.

So you jumped.

As soon as he pressed you back against the rock, you were reminded of how little you actually had on. You were sure the rock behind you was leaving scratches all along your back as he began to rock into you, making quick work of leaving hickies along your neck. You could feel him right between your legs, right where you needed him most, which only made the fire burning within you grow stronger.

Everything came to a halt so fast.

You felt like you were falling from cloud nine as all friction between you two stopped, and his forehead came to rest at the crook of your neck.

“Not here.” His words were muffled, but audible enough for you to understand that maybe you should get off him. Once you were on stable footing, he took a step back from you. His face was flushed as he pushed hair from his eyes. “We should start us off right.”

His words were simple, but they spoke measures.

“C’mon,” he offered out a hand, which you took, “let’s go back.”

Tag List: @dear-raspberry @msjackiealyson @mmmmmgd @graysavant @killmonger-dolan @wtf-no-idk @goblinwithnocore @writeblrforyourmom

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davidjjohnston3 · 3 years

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/ first love / things of first love / looking on my parents as my first love / who looked on me as her first love / (but) "My Greatest Love' / commitment to truth about love / minjung theology / "total christology" - / returning love to the first love and greatest love (john 3:16) / "The Roommate" - Westfield (NJ) Snow - the Kim brothers - Trader Joe's - Zegna shirtmaker(?) - Tracy Espiritu - "The Faces on the Heights" (2008) - from social media, my governor's school friends, Mona (Monna?) Yao I never met, who made Chingwen stop hating Shanghainese, ECE girl from RU GSE (Graduate School of Education not Governor's School of Environment) - very black eyes - She wanted to buy the Minnie Mouse dress from the Disney Store - Jessie Lee, he drinks a diet coke then goes running - "California" is a frisbee play I thought only I know - Jessie wanted to be my friend or so b/c my brother is excellent - "That play is called California [dumb----] - Always California is a Law School Discussion person whose essay I told her what she meant / where she was going with her past-future but nowadays Millennials etc. can actually form a face-intent without finding themselves first and go forward forever instead of "whatever shrapnel in my back pocket could afford" or people who try to base their plans on available resources instead of aiming then looking for resources / materials. Jessie told Lydia Han "Take care of yourself" - She was playing DDR at Fusion Ti and not talking to me - I don't remember her last words to me - They were making noodles in Edison - / what did i ever do that was not writing about my friends / alden's vanilla bean ice cream (maria / change mind), 2 everything bagels davidovich, earlier a few ginger coconut candies from h-mart but made in china, coconut oil for brain, MiO energy thing Acai Berry and Ginseng, earlier 8th continent soy milk thing, almond silk, spanish mixed nuts, 7 almonds (obama?) - i had more - avocado butter - drinking canola oil - californian olive oil burns - i have a cold sore - i can't have canned tomatoes anymore - 183 pounds AHC "All His Children" / my password used to be for tassadaromega... canisexmachina... then I changed to impluveam impluveam11 impluveam11et - jaeyoung's son "fullness" - a glass of white wine at centraal the full measure of god's spirit (sauvignon) - mushroom soup i didn't touch - Why did I not follow through on what was demanded not to talk a word with him - the beginning of "Stepfather" - It is clean at the Food Court at Mayfair Mall - I feel powerless and pure - I will read the paper with you and explain why you should not take "Parasite" as a Gospel message about what has to happen, or... but it is easy for me to promise 'strong benevolence' is better than immediate economic justice or - In my first dream of "Searching For Towards the Eastern Empire" "lily Sarah" moved with her baby wrapped swaddled in light dove gray right to left through the woods to the field / meadow, in a cool spring or so, now past a frozen lake through the colors of "Elizabeth's Nightgown" or the summer colors of 2012 2021 left to right, the whole procession, carrying lanterns too, a bit like Caspar David Friedrich colors and a bit like that frozen lake out in the suburbs of Madison where Nikki called me and the phone vibrated on my heart to tell me Chi Hye tried to call me on Valentine's Day night - I called her - I forget - someone's phone ran out of batteries - the next day we got (?) at (?) Japanese "I really want to eat rice" - and a bit like "Fantasia Night on Bald Mountain" - the procession of the Saints with the lanterns, "we all of us." The rainy cliff, the Korean refugees(?). The image from "The Admiral" where the civilians flag Yi Sunshin from the cliffside shore. In my 645 rendition they are walking, the notes are like babies on their heads. But the image of the peasants signalling to YSS in another vision are chained together and being gatling gunned which is why I say some people want to kill all Koreans. Maybe it is because of that short from Apocalypse Now or maybe it is because of and why I named Segalchik "Danilov" from "Enemy at the Gates" the Commissar who wants to build a new world and man and whose dying words are "There will always be rich in love and poor in love," then allowed Koenig to shoot him in the head to draw him out for his "teacher only friend" because I guess enemies are enemies and friends are friends and Russians are loyal, even in failure, like how Nabokov synaesthete said "loyal is like a gold fork," and Putin doesn't forgive traitors. Putin reminds me of Houellebecq's voice from the end of Particulaires "This book is dedicated to the human race who saw beyond themselves" - as and with the poem from the beginning, "Now that we dwell in the eternal afternoon we can revisit the end of the old world order" - and in the end "the medieval grace and sin" - "ontology of states not space" - I still remember the bruised skin on the cover, which would come from limited beatings or a certain kind of holding sex - My favorite Houellecq poem is "Liquid Birth" from "Art of Struggle" - "This world has never been written of" - It makes me cry like thinking about Kendi's beauty - "It's there, at least possible." - What's Macron up to - He married his teacher(?) - "My thoughts are too complicated" - Putin's too - Russian elementary piano teachers hold the student's hand and split the fingers for toward cantabile - I learned the Goldbergs and the only book I'll touch anymore is Kempff's organ transcriptions with his precise description of pedaling like a certain kind of chapel organ - "Kempff played better than he could (Liszt's Saint Francis preaching to the birds) - and when he played "Berceuse" in 1946 it's like saying to Germany "Dream for a while" defeated in WW2 - He lived to be 95 - father-like. Wilhelm Kempff is "saenggi(?)" - "Oh [Dave]." He doesn't try to give, or make. He just "says." Like "the wave said what the sea broken once laboriously spoken." That's why I say he's the best; he's one of the best pianists ever. "Sospiro" final fioritura - I wrote "sospira" where the piano-teacher is mandatorily retired and euthanised after his best student - Arrau said relax use your soul - I drove through Indiana corn fields listening to his "Emperor Concerto" 1st movement - "Beethoven America power" - but Kempff does'nt rely on his own soul, he "waits for the Spirit of God" or "waits on the Lord' - "asks the sky." This is why I like Stritch University Francis statue with the birds as well and Francis PP. St Francis of Assisi from whom Michelangeli claimed to be descended and I bought Michelangeli's op 111 DVD at Seoul Arts Center at the Liszt Society concert actually married his secretary in secret or something and "loaded" pieces whereas Kempff loaded nothing, ABM offered to teach Martha Argerich who is my favorite Andante Spianato like Josephine Park but I don't think she took him up on it, he smoked, he practiced at night, his head exploded(?), he died in Lugano. A pianist is a pianist (not a brand, franchise, go into teaching). Jenny / Jaein said I want to be a pianist. My first "Lullaby" was Idil Biret, IDK if the clock motif left hand is 1 2 3 4 5 6 or 1 2 3 4 5 (). A steady lake lapping, not a clock. In "Being Kim Poor" Krystal Jung fell asleep in the rowboat on the lake in Switzerland after the wedding in the chateau and trying to eat / hang out with the caterers. KP is an ex-soldier, her bodyguard, his friend is a Southerner like those Blackwater / Academi types who got rich quitting SF gov't to do contracting but Paul / Poor won't really. I thought about Sunny something something cyber stalkers in Whitefish Bay walking up the hill where I also listened to Fifth Season SSWFL later and in the neighborhood of the Obergefell blackout. "Free firewood" a chopped-up desk - am I an "afterburner" for having a desk and "free."

The original love-truth-faith-promise. The Minjung Theology book is "whiteness-words," holiness.

I feel like I almost arrived all in one piece for a while. I put on my white shirt. I weighed 160(?). The caseworker said she couldn't imagine me another weight. Pop was writing letters to the caseworker. I recommended "Whisper of the Heart" to for her son.

Now I feel like Hananim / God will let 300 saints die young so one sinner can be saved. "I was born in 1970" - I thought she meant "I became an angel in 1970" maybe.

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ivars-snowflake · 6 years

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Who are you?

So, I do have this bad habit of showing up and just start writing…I do not know if anyone would want to read it or if anyone would even like it…but honestly, sometimes I just have to get it out of the system. Now, here’s my tiny little Ivar piece…and if anyone shows any interest in my lousy writing, there will be no stoping me. So, you have been warned.

Warnings: none other then the upper one, really, just one little slap across the face. I’m an angel, honestly.

Ivar & Reader (as for the timeline, I put it in the times before Ivar accompanied Ragnar to England, so he’s still fucked up…not that he isn’t now, but it’s different kind of fucked up. Aaand now I’m rambling…)

As for the wordcount, idk, I’ve read longer 😀

And one last thing, english isn’t my first language, so I hope you’ll excuse any grammar mistakes.

And another last thing, it’s my first here, but feel free to be harsh 😀

****

It seemed like a day like any other. While you were enjoying the crystal blue waters of the lake, his bright blue eyes pierced you from the shore.

He would come and sit there every day, just existing, not moving his gaze from you. At first you felt uncomfortable, and you did try to talk to him, without any success, though, and with time you learned to ignore him and just mind your own business.

He never talked to you, so you never talked either.

You were friends once, you and Ivar. Growing up together, you always held his side, until he started to push you away. He got angry, and it was getting worse, leading to the point where not even you could find any reason to stick around. You felt unwanted, so you left him to handle his anger all by himself, his disability eventually becoming the thing that defines him. Sometimes you felt bad, you felt as if you should have tried harder, but then again, why would you?

He was different today, and it made you worried. Instead of fixing his gaze on you, most of the time he starred at the floor, where his nervous hands were picking at the grass. Apparently, something was wrong, and you couldn’t quite help yourself but feeling the need to make it better.

As you walked out of the water, the drops glittering on your skin, you noticed him lifting his gaze for a brief moment, just to fix it onto the ground once more.

Oh, well, what the hell. You must go talk to him now, you have to at least try.

You pulled your clothes on in a couple of quick moves, took a deep sigh, and headed his way.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second there before you spoke, your voice clearly revealing your nervousness.

-Ivar?

He didn’t answer. He never answered.

You wondered what so horrible could you have done to him, to deserve the treatment he’s giving you, but then again, you were aware it’s the kind of treatment everyone gets from him. It still hurt, though.

At the silence, you couldn’t help but take in on the sight.

He was no longer a kid who was once upon a time your friend. Right there in front of you sat a man, and a quite an impressive one.

Too bad he allowed his handicap to define and shape his character. He was angry, mad even, cruel and harsh, but impressive nonetheless.

He’d gone ways from the boy you once knew, and he was a sight for sore eyes.

-Ivar, don’t ignore me. Are you…are you okay? You asked, silently, waiting for any kind of reaction from him, but none came.

-Ivar?

For another minute which seemed like an eternity of rotten silence, you waited. Then your temper kicked in, never being the most patient one, you turned your back on him, forgetting for a moment who you’re talking to, and saying:

-Fine, you brat! Just enjoy your miserable existence then.

You started walking, ready to leave him to rot, but he suddenly spoke, and you stopped in your tracks.

-What do you want? He asked, his tone as provoking as ever.

Your eyes narrowed, looking at him with a tiny dose of disbelief. He actually spoke, and that itself was a huge improvement regarding your usual interaction. But you weren’t quite ready to calm your annoyed head down

-Well, I actually wanted to see if you’re fine. But I don’t care anymore.

- Of course you don’t. He answered. As if you ever did.

His words came like a bucket of iced cold water dropped on your skin. It froze and burned. Of course you cared, you always did, but the idiot never let you come near! How dares he to even think that you didn’t care?! You clenched your fists, bit your lip, and took a few deep breaths, because before you could speak, you had to calm down.

-What are you talking about, Ivar? You didn’t want me around, so I left. You never talked to me, so I didn’t talk to you. You never…ahh, screw this, Ivar. Are you okay?

Avoiding eye contact, he just shook his head as in a negative.

-Do you want to talk about it? You asked, but once again, he didn’t answer.

-Ivar! You called his name sounding almost desperate.

It ached you to see him like this.

You weren’t ready to admit defeat, so you sat next to him and waited. It was a done thing, you would wait for as long as it was necessary. It was either until he speaks, or until he leaves.

Time passed slowly, and after a long period of silence, he finally broke it.

-Why are you still here, Y/N? He asked you.

-I don’t know, you tell me. What’s wrong?

-Why would I talk about it with you?

-And why wouldn’t you?

-Because. I. Do. Not. Want. To.

-Good. You don’t have to. He finally moved his gaze from the floor, and the blue of his eyes pierced right through you. But I’m not leaving.

You watched anger and despair fill his eyes, the blue of them becoming dark and stormy, and showing their traces in his voice as well, as he growled his torment.

-I’m a cripple. That’s what’s wrong with me, yes? I’m a pathetic cripple and everyone either fears me, or just find me repulsive. Now, there you have it. Go.

But you wouldn’t leave. You always knew that Ivar’s soul was tortured by his state, and no matter the fact you haven’t talked in ages, you still knew him good enough to know that you can’t handle this with nice words or hugs or anything of that kind. You should know, you tried numerous times. But one thing you never tried, and it was to be tried now.

You lifted you skirt up to your knees, and shifted to Ivar’s lap, straddling him. Your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him unable to avoid meeting your gaze.

-Who are you? You asked him, your voice loud and harsh, looking for a reaction.

He stared back at you, confusion written all over his face. You growled at him once more.

-Who are you?

-I’m Ivar the Boneless, the cripple son of Ragnar. The one who should have died. Yes?

His voice revealed the pain hiding behind the rage his eyes were showing. This was not the answer you were aiming for. As he tried to free himself from your grip, you tightened it, making him unable to move.

-Who are you, Ivar son of Ragnar? Not what, but who?

He starred at you, boiling with anger, but giving no answer. One of your hands flew up, just to land on his cheek with a thud. You slapped Ivar the Boneless, and you didn’t regret it one bit. He was furious, and you saw it. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, growling in your face like a wounded animal.

-Who are you? You repeated once more, your voice hissing at him, your faces barely inches apart, before he finally answered with a loud growl.

-I am Ivar, the son of Ragnar. I am your prince, what you have apparently forgotten. Lift your hand up at me once more, and I’ll cut it off myself.

You smiled at him, releasing your grip, and getting back to your feet. With your voice now calm and gentle, you answered his threat with a grin.

-Good. Yes, you are my prince. Don’t forget who you are ever again, Ivar the Boneless. You can do anything in this world. Now start acting like that, so I don’t have to slap you again. I do not want my hand to be cut off.

#ivar fanfic #vikngs #ivar the boneless #vikings fanf #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader

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