#one time i spilled ghost pepper sauce into my eyes and it was in my eyes and i was in the middle of nowhere so i just had ghost pepper sauce | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mlmxreader · 6 months

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Not My Simon | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ i need “you’re not coming home, are you?” “i doubt it.” with ghost. gn, male, nb reader, literally any I JUST NEED THE ANGST - @mockerycrow ❞

: ̗̀➛ it's not your Simon. It's not how you remember him. Whatever it is, that's not your Simon.

: ̗̀➛ body horror, major character death, swearing, smoking, graphic depictions of fatal injuries

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The last conversation kept playing in your head as you stared at the photograph in your trembling hands; you knew that you had to make the call, that you had to pick up the phone and talk to Price.

He was sorry about what had happened, he had done his best to protect Simon. He asked you to call. You couldn't.

Every time you looked at your phone, you could only ever hear that last conversation. You weren't going to take it from the drawer. You couldn't.

The glass on the frame was stained and streaked, smudged with wet fingerprints. You licked your lips as you swallowed thickly and took in a shaky breath. The last picture.

You and your Simon, at a heavy metal concert, seeing a band that you adored who did songs based on historical individuals and events. He had bought you a zip up hoodie. You never wore it after that last conversation. It was collecting dust in the wardrobe.

Along with the bin bags full of his clothes, packed up by Johnny and Kyle.

You could hear his voice so clearly as you replayed the conversation.

"You're not coming home, are you?"

"I doubt it." His voice had shaken slightly. "It doesn't look good…"

"At least make sure there's something they can bring back," your voice had broken, squeaking. "I don't want to bury an empty box."

"I'll give Johnny my discs," he had told you. "He'll make sure that you get them. Keep them with you."

The line had cut off abruptly after that, you could still hear the monotone beep of the phone ringing in your ears. You put the photograph aside on the bed, shaking your head as you stood up.

It had gotten cold suddenly, you weren't sure why; you figured it was just the winter air creeping in, and grabbed a hoodie. It was red, stained with curry sauce.

You could still remember when Simon had spilled it, how profusely he had apologised. How you laughed and told him not to worry - it was just curry sauce. It didn't matter much.

Your vision was blurry, something hot and wet trickling down your cheeks. Something blocking your throat and your nose as you trudged to the kitchen.

The kitchen was even colder, and the smell of pineapple and pepper clung to the air. You didn't think much of it. The window was open, and it wouldn't surprise you if one of your neighbours had had a barbeque earlier.

But then an unease washed over you, the hairs at the back of your neck standing up and your heart banging against your ribs; you were being watched. In the darkness, something was lurking in a corner. You could see a shadow moving from the corner of your eyes.

You figured you were just tired as you stood with your back against the counter and lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag. Your hands didn't stop shaking. You could feel the chill getting worse. The patio light flickered, drawing your attention.

You could have sworn you saw something move from the corner of your eye. You tensed up, clenching your jaw. You were just tired, that was all. Just tired.

A shadow stood, motionless and towering over the vase of dead and wilted daffodils. Simon's last gift.

You pressed your back against the counter a little more. Shaking your head. You were just tired. Seeing things. That was it. You were just tired. Slowly, the shadow moved, and the lights flickered slightly.

Exposing an all black SAS uniform, but it didn't look right.

Something was… off about it.

The shadow got closer, and the lights flickered again, settling on staying on, although dulled. A pale grey light filled the kitchen as you glared at the exposed shadow.

It wore a broken skull mask, the tactical vest was ripped and torn and exposing what was beneath it. The trousers were frayed and falling apart at the calf and knee. The helmet was broken, exposing dull grey flesh beneath it that throbbed.

Then you got a really good look, and you nearly dropped your cigarette.

The jaw of the shadow was broken, shattered and hanging on by sheer spite. Something black and gooey oozed from the open mouth. The movements were jerky, bones crunching and grinding where they had been broken. The elbow stuck out from the flesh, poking against long and thin sleeves.

You froze, meeting lifeless white eyes. But you knew him. It was Simon, but it wasn't your Simon; it wasn't how you remembered him.

Soft and short, neat, brown hair. Deep and wide facial scars. Those deep brown eyes you could get lost in, so dark that they could look black in the right lighting. A towering frame, chub that hung over the edge of his trousers.

What you were looking at wasn't your Simon.

It might have looked like him, but it wasn't him. No. That wasn't your Simon. That wasn't how you remembered him. You shook your head, sinking down and covering your face with your hands, screaming.

That wasn't your Simon.

You screamed and screamed, sobbing and weeping. That wasn't your Simon. It was not your Simon. It wasn't how you remembered him.

But it moved forward, and with a grinding and crunching thud, sat down opposite you. It reached its charred and burned, blistered and leaking, hand out and rested it on your calf gently. Grunting and gargling on its own blood. Choking on it.

It garbled and growled softly, spitting ooze on the floor. Desperate to speak as the flesh in its open skull pushed up and down against the jagged cracks of the broken helmet. It nudged your leg. You screamed again.

So it withdrew its hand, and turned its white gaze to the floor. Ashamed.

He never meant to scare you. He never meant to hurt you. He just wanted to see you one last time before he had to go again. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he was sorry. That he never meant to hurt you, and he would always watch over you. He would always be there.

He shied away, standing up and taking one last hesitant look at you. A grunting garble sounded from his mouth as he choked on the ooze, desperate to speak. To apologise for not being your Simon. To apologise for his appearance and tell you that he was sorry.

He knew that that wasn't how you remembered him.

One last look, and he was gone.

The lights flickered, and returned to being off. The smell died away and the air seemed to warm up slightly. But you stayed there, screaming and sobbing.

That wasn't your Simon.

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gripefroot · 6 months

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Jim Hopper romancing the waitress at his favourite diner; Jim Hopper and a cozy, romantic Christmas setting; Jim Hopper finally following his true dreams and opening a food truck; Jim Hopper doing anything. ANYTHING.

(Anything? Deeply considered an 1800s!Whaler AU, so thank you for that.)

It was difficult to pick out the worst part of her evening.

Her soaking-wet apron and skirt from a spilled milkshake; docked tips for a burned cheeseburger that she hadn’t even cooked; only delivered; or her ex-fiancé that had shown up at the back door of the diner. He’d hollered for her for hours, apparently, until a cook hollered at her to get rid of him or he’d call the police. After spending twenty minutes physically shoving that menace away from the door, the manager had chewed her out for taking too long of a break. An extra ten minutes to sob in the bathroom had been necessary after that, mopping her tears with her stained apron until her cheeks were sticky from sugar. Then she’d straightened her hair and the jaunty hat of the diner uniform and gone back to work.

Wear that cap like a crown, Grandpa had coached her long ago. He’d thought, as she had, that a year or two of working at the diner between beauty pageants would earn her enough to splurge on the prettiest gowns. And then he’d died and she’d stopped competing and it had been a good ten years since she walked through the diner door bright-eyed and full of dreams.

Only three hours until closing. She could do anything for three hours.

Why was it so packed? It was a Monday night, usually one of the slower shifts, but after seeing elbow-to-elbow customers at the bar and shrieks from families in the booths, she nearly started to cry again.

You’re a princess, don’t forget that, bunny. Whatever you wear, make it your gown and crown.

Gown and crown. A dirty uniform and an itchy hat.

A deep, trembling breath rattled her lungs. Pad and pencil in her pocket, and she marched to a table of new customers.

Two hours left.

Ninety minutes left.

One hour left.

Not that she had much to look forward to at home. Home had lost its hominess after Grandpa died. Now it was four walls and a roof, paid for and inherited, with blankets crocheted by a grandmother she hadn’t met and a photograph of her long-dead mother covering the only unfaded section of wallpaper in the kitchen. It was the ghosts she hadn’t known or hadn’t had the chance to love that haunted her the most.

Time slowed.

Fifty-five minutes left.

Fifty minutes.

Forty-five.

Nearing closing time didn’t slow down the work. There were still tables to be bussed; dirty dishes to be stacked and cups to be dumped and more spills and stains waiting to make her dress and apron more worthy of a rag pile. She straightened napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers and shook ketchup bottles.

With a heave, she got a towering stack of dishes to the sink behind the counter. All of her customers had left; the ones remaining were Janie’s. They’d argue, after everyone had gone, whose job was worse: convincing lingering customers to get, or accidentally plunging one’s hand into lukewarm steak sauce.

She yanked on the faucet for a stream of water, plunging her hand in to wash off said steak sauce bit by bit.

“Have a nice night!” Janie, at least, would get tips. Tips that rattled right into her apron pocket as she whisked away more dishes to add to the tower. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ll split with you.”

She smiled, and said nothing.

“Speaking of,” Janie went on, emptying a few glasses of ice and watered-down Coke into the sink. “That fellow over there has been looking at you like you’re on the menu.”

“Yeah, right. I bet it’s my skirt that did him in.” Ruefully she showed Janie her stained apron. Janie’s eyes went wide.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I have an extra apron in the back…”

“It got my skirt, too.”

“A clean apron would have covered it!”

And then she would have had to wash and iron a second apron to return Janie’s to her. More work, more work, more work.

“Well,” Janie said. “At least tell him whether you’re on the menu or not, then he can leave.”

The he in question sat near the middle of the counter, a pie crust left on his plate. Her eyes went from his dishes to his elbows on the counter (rude) to massive paws of hands covering the lower half of his face. Up and up: he was watching her, just as Janie had warned. Good heavens.

She dried her hands on the damp towel hanging by the sink, put on her well-practiced false smile, and approached him. These things were best dealt with swiftly and confidently.

“I’ll take that for you,” she chirped, taking away his plate.

He lowered his hands, exposing the remainder of his face. He needed a shave and a trim, but not bad looking, overall. And he looked familiar. The glint of the suddenly-visible badge on his chest confirmed it—the police officer from a few towns over. Unusual for him to come this way, but not unheard of. “Thank you,” he said.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Uh…yeah.” The man smiled. Not, not a smile: a grin. There was a difference, when you’d worked in a diner this long. This was a bonafide, ear-to-ear grin like a teenage boy that had just successfully hotwired his first Mustang. “I was wondering…what’s a guy gotta do to get you to go on a date with him?”

Brazen, wasn’t he? Her smile was frozen in place. It was a thin line between chasing away customers and not opening oneself for business. She took a few steps back to the sink, running the plate beneath the faucet.

“Ask, probably.” Not a no, not a giggle and battered lashes. Thin line.

The man watched her a moment more. “You busy?”

Startled, she dropped the plate in the sink. And left it there. “Am I busy?” She took another plate from the stack, scraping soggy fries into the trash bin beneath the sink. He said nothing, and she didn’t, either. Anything bound to come out of her mouth at that point would be unkind. So she took another plate, and another, and another, casting him a pointed look that missed the mark completely.

“Yeah!” he said. “It’s a valid question!”

Speak for yourself, was her bitter, unspoken response. Rinsing off the dishes meant droplets sticking to her bare arms, usually tainted with sticky sauce that would have her running to the bath first thing when she got home. No matter how tired she was, she was never so tired that she would crawl into bed dirty.

“Yes,” she said at last, refreshing her smile to meet the man’s gaze square and sure. “I am busy.”

His lips stuck out, in a purse or in thought. She didn’t know, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. A glance at the clock: ten minutes until closing.

“I see,” the man said. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

That was new. She stopped, staring as he got out his wallet to tug out a few bills. He only looked at her once more, with an apologetic smile, before tossing money onto the counter and climbing off the stool.

“Have a good night,” he said.

Well! How about that!

Shaking her head, she went back to the dishes. The rinsed stack grew, the trash bin filled, and her arms got wetter and wetter. The bell above the door chimed for a final time, Janie locking the door and pulling down the blinds.

The tub was empty. With a sigh she turned off the faucet, fingers soft from the water, and started stacking the dishes back inside.

“I’ll be back for the rest,” she said to Janie, who was closing the blinds behind the booths. Hoisting the tub up, she went to the door to the kitchen and went through elbow-first, the stink of fry oil making her tongue feel gross.

“Sorry about that burger,” said the man at the griddle. Faithfully he dragged his spatula over the burned bits, scraping them into a trash can.

“It’s okay, Paul,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Paul got a full paycheck without tips. She didn’t. It wasn’t worth pointing that out.

Louis and Mike chatted by the refrigerator. Around the corner to where Mary would be washing the dishes, and—

She stopped in her tracks.

The police officer man was elbow-deep in suds, Marry sitting on an upturned bucket as she fanned herself with an outdated menu.

“Just put them in,” Mary said. “He won’t mind.”

The man turned. He smiled for a split second before turning back.

She stared at Mary. Maryjust shrugged. The dishes were getting heavy.

“Don’t ask me,” Mary said. “He volunteered.”

But why?

Feet still planted where she stood, she could do no more than gawk as the man turned on his heel and took the tub of dishes from her. “No need to make a ceremony of it,” he said. This time he didn’t grin, but he smiled. It was a much more comforting expression. She surrendered the dishes weakly, hands falling to her sides.

Well, it wasn’t any of her business, anyway. Customers sometimes stuck around to help with one chore or another, out of boredom or kindness or a million other things. This man’s angle—for he surely had one—could be any one of them. And it had nothing to do with her.

“I was just telling Jim here about that crazy fellow of yours making a racket earlier,” Mary said cheerily. A break made her chatty. “He said next time he’ll remove the fellow for you.”

“We get the deputy from Pint Nevre, when we need one,” she said.

“I’m out here regularly, anyway,” the man said over his shoulder. “No skin off my teeth.”

Unsure of why he was helping, or wanting to help again, or why he’d stayed or why she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his thick shoulders moving with his scrubbing each plate to put on the drying rack—she wrung her apron in her hands. Dry, but stiff, and it would make her hands smell like chocolate.

The man looked back again. He was smiling again. “Just ask for Jim,” he said. “Jim Hopper.”

#jim hopper x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #hopper drabble #drabble requests

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thief-anon · 3 years

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#markiplier #thief gif time #its been a while since i made a gif #one time i spilled ghost pepper sauce into my eyes and it was in my eyes and i was in the middle of nowhere so i just had ghost pepper sauce #in my eyes for several hours #it was an experience

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daydreamingleclerc · 3 years

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spill your guts or fill your guts - mason mount

standing in as a talk show host and having to interview your footballer boyfriend means only one thing — you have to play the most infamous game and answer questions that get far too personal for the TV, until mason asks you the most personal question of all.

TRIGGER WARNING: j*mes c*rden is mentioned. read at your own risk and don’t say i didn’t warn you </3 (there’s also a mention of gagging, wretching and some sexual references, but that’s pretty much it) x

pairing: mason mount x actress!reader

when you’d signed on originally, it was as a normal guest. you’d been on the show twice beforehand and people seemed to really take a shining to you, and when james took some time off for personal reasons a few months back, you’d been co-host for an entire week, standing beside some of the UK’s most prestigious celebrities, and interviewing famous people from all walks of life. tonight though, you were the third host in a line up of six — one for every night of the week, in the run up to your new movie’s release.

mason mount had been scheduled for a while, to talk about his charity work and his new, upcoming clothing range. originally, he was scheduled in for two weeks time, but when you’d agreed to host a show in the week prior to the release of missing pieces, the schedule suddenly changed. you would be interviewing him about all things charity, football and clothes, which would’ve been completely fine if he wasn’t your boyfriend of three years.

“hello and welcome back to the late, late show with me, y/n y/l/n.”

you waved at the cameras as you sat at the circular table ready for the next segment, nerves racing through your veins.

“if you’ve just joined us then you’ll notice i am in fact, not, james corden — i’m better because i don’t have a penis,” you joked, earning a laugh - and a few cheers — from the live crowd, and saw mason chuckling from the opposite side of the table. “now if you caught the show before the break, then you’ll know i was interviewing my boyfriend, mason mount, and now we’re gonna be doing our own form of relationship therapy in the form of spill your guts or fill your guts.”

you spun the table around, the strong scent of unappealing food filling your senses, and you watched with a smirk as mason coughed at one particular smell. “alright, so mason do you wanna tell the people what we have?” you rubbed your hands together in faux excitement, and mason shifted in his seat.

“we, uh, this is cows tongue, then we have witchety grub — which are still alive, by the way — thousand year old egg,” mason gagged at the smell of the living insects mingling in the bowl, and held his hand up to the camera to apologise, “ghost pepper hot sauce, a mushroom and pineapple smoothie-”

“-that’s the one that i’m most intrigued about,” you interrupted, pointing down at the thick substance with a little cocktail stick umbrella poking out, “because it’s like dinner and dessert in one.”

“what the hell is wrong with you?” mason stared at you blankly, a confused expression on his face, and you shrugged your shoulders as the audience laughed, “anyway, we have bird saliva, hot dog water, bull penis — or testicles, i can’t quite tell because the card doesn’t even know — and fish sperm.”

the two of you gave one another a look that said you regretted the choices made to sign onto the show, both as guest and host, and you laughed, turning to face the camera once more. “for those who haven’t seen the show, basically mason and i have some cards that we’re going to read questions from and the other person has to answer said question, and if they don’t answer the question they have to eat the delicious treat placed in front of them,” mason nodded as the camera panned around to him clapping his hands together, “now, considering i’m asking first, my love, i’m going to give you the ghost pepper hot sauce.”

mason rolled his eyes and watched as you spun the table round until the hot sauce wafted under his nose, and he gripped at the bucket between his feet already, you lined up your question cards and read the first one out, a laugh trickling from your lips. “mason, rank these teammates — who you claim are all your best friend — from best to worst,” he let out a chuckle and buried his head in his hands, “ben chilwell, trevoh chalobah, kai havertz, declan rice and reece james.”

the crowd made a noise as you placed the card on the table in front of you, a smirk on your lips. the question was definitely answerable, but equally you knew mason wouldn’t want to suffer getting rinsed by his teammates if he gave the linear order. “bloody hell, what did i do to deserve this?” he looked at the producers behind the camera, and then back at you. “i can answer it, i can definitely answer it.”

“hm, there’ll be an awful lot of tension in the training room on monday morning, if you’re not careful,” you cooed, sitting back and tutting.

“right, okay, uh, well dec’s always gonna be my number one, and then i’d probably say b — or would i say that?” he questioned himself, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought of what to say, and you just continued to watch him with a laugh, “okay, uh — bloody hell i’m gonna have to take the shot, aren’t i?”

he sniffed it as the crowd made a noise, but as quick as he said he would take it, he pulled away. “declan, ben, kai, trevoh and reece,” he spat out the names in quick succession in the hopes that you didn’t ask him to repeat them, and you gasped in shock, not believing he would actually answer it. mason’s cheeks were rosy as the audience calmed, and you shifted in your seat, still in shock that he actually gave an answer.

“i can’t believe you answered that,” you laughed, shaking your head as you looked at the array of food items on the table, your stomach doing backflips. “right, what’re you gonna give me?”

“wouldn’t you like to know,” mason muttered, shooting a wink towards you. the audience cooed, some whooped and cheered and you felt your cheeks get hot. it seemed mason forgot this was on live television. “i think i’m going to give you the cod sperm.”

you let out a noise of disapproval as mason spun the table until the bowl of thick, white spirals was placed in front of you. he was itching to ask how they got it, but he figured he’d pass up on the opportunity just in case it was worse than he imagined. “okay, y/n,” he pulled out his card, and as he read the question prior to announcing it, he laughed, “you’ve been in a lot of movies where you have steamy make out sessions with your co-stars, but, out of tom holland, florence pugh, chris hemsworth, or me; who’s the best kisser?”

mason sat opposite you with a little, evil smirk on his face as he fanned the card between his fingers, and the crowd made hissing noises and funny gasps that left your cheeks red. you knew that saying mason would be the expected — and truthful — answer, and he knew it too, but there was no harm in a little fun. “i mean, they’re all great kissers — like, i mean, great-”

“-they’re not gonna shag you, y/n,” mason shot back, a schoolboy grin on his face. you kicked him under the table, you heel digging into his shin as he flinched.

“thank you for that,” you shifted, and sniffed at the cod sperm underneath your nose, “florence is great, very attentive, tom is great — he’s got very soft lips — and chris is also great, but i didn’t like the beard.”

“what about me?”

“you’re my boyfriend, it’s different with you.”

“so who’re you saying?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. you sniffed the sperm and poked your tongue out at it, the salt sticking to it like shit to a blanket. you made a face and turned to the producers, muttering something about it being far too salty for its own good. “what’s your order, y/n?”

you took a breath, “okay, so... mason mount, tom holland, florence pugh, chris hemsworth.”

the crowd cheered, and you let out a long, drawn out breath at the announcement, feeling like a weight dropped from your shoulders. you spun the table around, eyes scanning each item of food. “okay, mason, i love you and all but i’m gonna have to give you the egg,” mason made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the audience cheered. you picked up the card and laughed, muttering a there’s no way he’ll answer this.

“okay mason, who, out of frank lampard and thomas tuchel is the best chelsea manager?”

he laughed, a rosy hue coming to his cheeks as he knew there was absolutely no way in hell the question would be answered. without even opening his mouth for an answer, he picked the fork up off of the table and picked up some of the black egg, dangling it into his mouth. you covered yours in an attempt to stop yourself from gagging, and you watched as he wretched and spat into the metal bin at his feet.

“oh my god, mason,” you buried your head in your hands as he continued to wretch, “how was it?”

“fuckin’ felt like i was on i’m a celeb for a minute there,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. you still couldn’t believe what you’d just witnessed, but prepared yourself for the next onslaught. mason leaned over the table, and peered over at the bulls penis, which was already sitting in front of you. “i think i’m gonna leave you with the penis.”

“wouldn’t be the first time,” you muttered, shifting in your seat and eliciting a laugh from mason and the crowd. he grabbed the next card, and giggled.

“y/n, when we first started dating, the press reported that you had the hots for other members of the england team,” he peered over the card, glancing at you while you buried your head in your hands and made a frustrated noise, “and you’ve been very open about the fact that the current england team are attractive, so, my question is, if i gave you a free pass to slide into one of their DM’s, who would it be?”

“are you fucking serious?!” you laughed, throwing your hands up over your head and slamming them down against your thighs, the audience laughing hysterically. “i can’t answer that!”

“why not?” mason asked, a cheeky glint in his eye.

you picked up the bulls penis in your hand, shocked at how small it was, and faced your boyfriend. “because it’s just embarrassing,” you laughed. several of the audience members were chanting for you to eat the penis, while some were chanting for you to answer the question, “almost as embarrassing as eating this tiny penis live on telly, but bottoms up i s’pose.”

you took one of the pre-cut chunks and began chewing at it. the taste wasn’t too bad, but the texture was god-awful, and it was extremely chewy. you fumbled around at your feet for the bin, and finally spat it out, swirling your mouth out with water. mason fell into hysterics, laughing and clapping as he watched you suffer, the sight amusing as he finally got his own back.

“right, i’m gonna give you the bird saliva, a lovely little tipple,” you spoke after a while, spinning the table round until the martini glass landed in front of him. you picked out another card. “okay, your final question is out of all of the movie’s i’ve done, which would you never want to watch again?”

mason shook his head, a smirk on his lips, “this is an easy one,” he replied, with a slap to his leg. “if i could never watch one of your movies again it would be ten rules.”

you laughed, “why ten rules, exactly?”

“because there’s too much sex in it,” he replied, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders, “which wouldn’t bother me if it was sex with me, but it’s not.”

the audience laughed and cheered, while mason sat there with an amused look on his face that left you speechless. you really thought he would cave and drink the horrible substance in front of him, so when he answered it without a second thought it took you back. you laughed, completely none the wiser as mason tensed up opposite you, circling the table around to bring the cows tongue in front of you.

“final question, my turn,” he rubbed his hands together before picking up the card with one hand and checking his pocket with the other, “y/n, this card says you need to stand up and close your eyes before i can read it out.”

you knitted your eyebrows together, and stared at your boyfriend, unsure of what he was doing. “what?”

“it’s what the card says,” he shrugged his shoulders and the crowd fell silent, minus the odd chuckle here and there. you glanced up at the producer behind camera, who nodded at you to tell you it wasn’t a drill, and that it was what was written on the card. you shrugged your shoulders then, getting up from your seat and closing your eyes.

“i swear to god if i get jumpscared or if you pour water over my head, you’re dumped.”

he laughed, and one of the producers came behind you to cover your eyes with her hands to make sure there was no peeking. mason shushed the crowd with his finger on his lips and took a deep breath, pulling something out of his pocket and readjusting himself so he was on one knee. some members of the audience gasped lightly, but the producers continued in following on from mason’s efforts to shush them. it felt like an eternity of silence as you stood there waiting, and mason took a deep breath.

“my final question for you, y/n y/l/n is,” he popped open the box and a gorgeous silver diamond ring glistened in the light as the camera crew ran in frantically to try and get a glimpse of it for the viewers at home, “will you marry me?”

the producer pulled her hands from your eyes as he asked the question, and you suddenly felt disoriented. your eyes fell upon your boyfriend, who really was on one knee with a ring box, offering you his hand in marriage. the question ran circles in your head, and you covered your mouth with your hand in complete shock, nodding and whimpering a simple yes as you tried so hard not to let the tears fall.

“we can’t hear you, y/n!” one of the producers shouted from the top of the audience seating, and you nodded again, pulling your hand away from your mouth and smiling down at your boyfriend, who himself was now crying.

“yes, yes, yes!”

the pair of you became blubbering, tearful messes as the audience cheered and whooped; some of them crying as they came to grips with what was happening in front of them, and you helped mason stand up before he placed the ring on your finger. you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him softly, unable to even think about continuing with the show even though you knew you had to. your producer stepped in to read the cue cards.

“that was spill your guts or fill your guts with y/n soon-to-be mount and mason mount! we’ll be right back after this ad break with lots more to come.”

•

the new chapter of the man on your right should be out soon (as well as some of the requests i still haven’t completed) - just bear with me because i’m going through the worst writers block imaginable right now and i have to work all bank holiday weekend (incl. the game tonight) </3 so yeah, i’m still writing it but in the mean time i hope you can enjoy this even tho it’s pretty naff :)

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount smut #mm19 #money mase #england imagine #england blurb #football imagine #football blurb #this was so wholesome 🥺#i hope you enjoyed!#feedback welcome <3 #ily guys <3

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avengerscompound · 5 years

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Just Like That

Just Like That: A Falcon Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 1811

Square: @star-spangled-bingo - Praise Kink

Warnings: PWP, Smut (M|F, oral sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk, praise kink)

Synopsis: Sam shows up after a long, hard day and you want to take care of him. Turns out, he likes taking care of you too.

Just Like That

Sam let himself in through the side door. He knew you wouldn’t mind. You’d given him the keys saying he could come anytime, even if you weren’t here. He had been tempted to take you up on that a few times. Sometimes the avenging just wore him down and the call to a regular house in the suburbs where he could forget he wasn’t part of that world for a little while.

Tonight, however, he knew you were home. Which was better really. There was nothing like being around someone you loved just being to bring you back down to earth. It was late though, so he just hoped you were up.

“Honey?” He called as he dropped his bag on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and then emptying his pockets of his keys and wallet and tossing them on the table.

Your footfalls alerted him you were there before he even saw you. He’d just reached the kitchen door when it flew inward, nearly smacking him in the face and you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“Sammy!” You squealed and began peppering his face with kisses.

“Woah, calm down, babe.” He chuckled holding you close. “I’m a bit bruised.”

“Oh no,” You said, slipping down off him. You lifted his shirt and ran your fingers over one of the large marks on his side. He winced a little and you took your hand away. “What happened?”

“Just Avengers stuff.” He said. “I’ll be fine. Besides, that’s not why I’m here anyway.”

“Mmm…” You hummed taking his hands and leading him into the living room. “And why are you here? Late-night booty call, is it?”

He chuckled. “How dare you? I’m a human being, not just this fine body.”

You giggled and leaned up and kissed him. “Alright, then,” You asked. “What can I do for you, Sammy? You want something to eat? Some hot cocoa? A shower? To just crash?”

Sam flopped down onto your couch pulling you down into his lap as he thought. “A beer and a sandwich would be amazing. Then a shower. Then we can crash.” He said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

You rubbed your nose against his and ran your fingers over his scalp. “Of course not. I like taking care of you.”

He tilted his head and kissed you deeply, running his hand up your back and cradling the back of your head. You hummed softly, a sound he loved. He loved to hear when you enjoyed something.

You pulled back slowly, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, before getting up and heading into the kitchen.

Sam sank back into the couch and let his head roll back. It had been a long ass day. He was glad to be here with you at the end of it.

It didn’t take long for you to return. You had a plate clutched in one hand, laden down with things and an opened bottle of craft beer in the other hand.

“It’s your lucky day, Wilson,” You said, handing him the beer first. “I made meatballs for dinner and there were leftovers.”

“Are you serious?” He said sitting up and taking the plate off you. On it was baguette filled with meatballs cooked in marinara sauce. You’d toasted it with mozzarella on top and it was browned off and bubbling perfectly. You’d added a pickle and potato chips to the plate to round it off. “Oh my god, you know exactly how to get to my heart.”

“I know what my guy likes.” You said, sitting down and tucking your legs up under you. You curled into him and put your head on his shoulder.

“Mm… you sure do.” He hummed taking a large bite. He moaned as he chewed it slowly and swallowed and you stole a chip from his plate.

“You do anything this Friday?” You asked.

“Taking my best girl out?” He said.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Oh yeah? Where are you taking her?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t got that far.” He teased.

“Well, I have tickets to a play off-broadway. It’s in preview.” You said. “You want to go?”

“Sure, honey. That sounds good. We can get dinner beforehand.” He said and kissed the top of your head.

“Perfect.” You said.

This was what Sam liked best. How completely and utterly normal it was. He didn’t think he’d ever just be able to live with normal. That wasn’t him either. But he needed some. He needed a place to go where he didn’t have to worry about gods, or HYDRA, or aliens trying to take over the Earth.

Here with you, he was a normal guy who ate meatball sandwiches with beer and planned dates in the city.

He finished his sandwich and sat back, rubbing his stomach and draining the last of the beer. “That was exactly what I needed.” He said. “Thank you.”

“You’re easy to please.” You said and got up taking the dishes to the kitchen. When you returned you came over and offered him your hand. “Come on. Let’s clean you up.”

He took you hand and let you pull him to his feet. He followed you upstairs willingly and let your strip him off as you waited for the water in the shower to heat up.

“Oh god, look what they did to you.” You said as you traced your fingers over his bare skin.

He took your hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse. Let’s just get cleaned up.”

You nodded and stepped under the water with him. You took the body sponge and added some shower gel to it. He inhaled deeply as you began to wash him down. That clean, slightly floral scene always reminded him of you. As you carefully moved the sponge over him his muscles relaxed and his cock twitched. Not that he expected more from you now, but the way you tenderly took care of him, running your hands over the lines of his body, he couldn’t help the way it turned him on.

You smirked and ran the puff down the lines of his Adonis’ belt. “You like that, Sammy?”

“Mm… yeah, baby. Feels really good.” He hummed.

You ran the puff over his cock and it jumped and hardened more and he groaned and leaned up against the wall.

“You’re not going to be a tease now, are you?” He said, running his hand down your side.

“Me?” You teased, dancing your fingertips up his shaft. “Never.”

“That’s a girl.” He hummed and pulled you into a kiss.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft and began to pump it slowly. The blood rushed to his cock, and it hardened fully in your hand. He groaned into your lips as you moved yours with his and your tongue flicked out to meet his.

His slid his hands down your back and gripped your ass, pulling you a little closer to him. “Fuck, that’s it.” He groaned. “Just like that.”

“Mmm… you like that, Sammy?” You moaned gently as your lips ghosted down his neck and you sucked on the dip where his neck met his collarbone.

“Yeah, baby. Feels real good. You know just how to get me off, don’t you?” He said in a husky growl.

You made a little choked sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper and you began to kiss lower down his body. You paused at his nipples flicking your tongue over them and nipping at them gently. The whole time you jerked him off, your fist moving up and down his shaft, twisting and squeezing slightly. It sent tendrils of pleasure snaking through his veins and made his balls tighten and his cock start to leak precome down over your knuckles.

“What else do you like?” You asked as you kissed down his abdominals.

He groaned and massaged his fingers over your scalp. “I like when you suck my dick.”

“Mm…” You hummed as you swirled your tongue up his shaft and over the head of his cock. “Like this?” You dropped your head down, taking him into your mouth and sucking hard.

“Oh yeah. Just like that. You’re doing really well.” He praised as a shiver ran up his spine.

You moaned and squeezed your legs together as you dropped your head down lower on his shaft.

“That’s my girl, take the whole thing. I know you can do it.” He moaned, his eyes locked on you as your dropped your head lower and lower. When your lips were flush with his base he held you in place, even as you gagged a little. “That’s it, baby, you can do it. It feels so good.”

You moaned loudly and when he let you go you pulled back coughing a little. “There you go.” He praised.

He guided you back up and kissed you hungrily, pushing you back against the shower wall. You wrapped a leg around him and rolled your hips, grinding your pussy against him.

“You gonna take my dick, baby girl?” Sam purred as he ground into you.

“Yes, Sammy.” You moaned. “I want it.”

“That’s it, baby. I’m going to make you feel so good.” He said and lifted you up, lowering you down on his cock.

He started to thrust deep into you as you clung to him and squeezed your walls around his cock like you were milking it. “Yes, Sam. Just like that. Fuck me so good.”

“You take it so well. Good girl.” Sam hummed as he fucked you.

He kept going, deep and hard, pulling your hips up so he could angle into your g-spot. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around his girth and you dug your nails into his back. The bathroom echoed with the sounds of your moans, grunts, whimpers, and mutual words of praise.

As he got closer and closer to his release he started to rub your clit hard, wanting you to come first. “Yes! Yes! Just! Like! That!” You screamed out and with a cry you came, arching back and shuddering around his cock. The way your pussy clenched and squeezed his shaft pulled him over and he thrust hard and deep into you, his cock pulsing as he spilled into you.

“Fuck.” He sighed as he slipped from you and let you down. His come dripped from you and he groaned at the sight of it.

“That was good.” You hummed as you stepped back under the water.

He grabbed the shower puff and began to wash you. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

You turned and smiled wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, I do like to be needed.”

#starspangledbingo #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #falcon #falcon fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #just like that

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shawn-mendes-post · 5 years

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Chapter 5: James Corden.

A/N: Can't believe I updated twice in one day! I'm going to slow down because school is about to start soon. Also, I might pick someone to create a character to be introduced in the series. Let me know if you like the idea or want to participate.

As the months passed by for Shawn he was miserable. He tried to pretend like he wasn't broken or missing her, but it was torture. He missed the little things such as sending him a text good morning or reminding him to eat.

Now when he comes home its empty. He can't deny that he missed her, but he tried to give her space. He had to stop from rewatching out to her. He would usually check her social media to make sure that she was okay.

His heart broke when she saw the news of her dating Tom Holland. She moved on...maybe I should too. At least she is happy. He is someone I couldn't be for you. I should have told her not to go. I should have tried to fix the problem, but I thought she needed space. I messed up.

He spent most of his time writing new songs and producing music videos. His fanbase knew there was something going on with him, but couldn't figure out what. They felt like it was about a woman and tried to find out who inspired his new album.

Phone ringing, Shawn sees a text from his friend, Brian. Confused he turns on the TV to see Jame Corden was on. He wonders why he was told to watch this, but his breath hitch as a familiar name is heard. (Name), you look amazing. It's as if our break up didn't impact you. I'm left broken and here you are acting normal.

Turning the volume up he watched fascinated at her walking to meet James at a table. Shawn crinkle his nose at what game she would be playing.

* Start of Interview *

Jame is currently sitting at a table, smiling at the audience. " Hello everyone! We are here with the most amazing actress that started when she was 9. Please welcome, ( Name) (L/Name)!"

The said woman walks down the stairs, giving high-fives to the audience. She smiles as she smooths out her navy blue, off the shoulder dress, showing off her curves. She makes her way to the table with a nervous smile as she laughs nervously.

" Lets see what we have. Bull Penis, Cow Tongue, Pickle Juice, Calf’s Brain, Cod Sperm, Bird Saliva, Pig Blood Curd, and Ghost Pepper Hot Sauce,”James said as the camera zooms in and shows off all of the foods on the table. Her face is pale as the smell hits her hard.Being pregnant made the smell a lot stronger, she had to hold in her breath.

" How this game works: I'm going to ask you a question. You can answer the question, or if you don't want to then eat whatever I pick. Then vice- versa. "

(Name) nods as she holds up her head. " Is it okay that I brought a guest? Evan, come out here." The audience claps as Evan Peters makes his way to the table, surprising James.

" This is a complete surprise. Is it my birthday or something?" James asked making the audience laugh. Evan shakes hands with James as he sits down next to (Name).

" I wasn't expecting you," James started as a crew member hands a stack of cards. " Oh, they knew you were coming. So, I'll ask (Name) a question. She will ask Evan a question and Evan will ask me a question. "

The two nod as they understand what will be going on. " Now, I'll start. I'll give you...the…" he spins the table as he thinks. " Cod sperm."

" Oh my. I hope I can answer the question. "

" There are some rumours going around about you dating a costar is that true? " Hollers could be heard in the audience as (Name) blushes. " I can't tell you that. I also don't want to eat that. I swear, I didn't think I would be doing this. " She uses a fork to pick one up and opens her mouth to take a bite. She then stops as she nods her head. "Yes. I am currently dating someone. Also, no I'm not saying who I'm dating. "

" Okay. What should Evan have to eat if he doesn't want to answer. She hummed as she spins the table before stopping at the bird saliva. " I can tell you from experience that is gross," James mutters as he shakes his head. (Name) pick up the card and read the question, laughing softly.

" Evan, if you could take back one relationship, which one would it be?" James started laughing as he looks back. " Who wrote this?"

Evan sighs as he picked up the glass, bringing it to his nose. Sniffing, he recoiled in disgust.He takes a sip, trying not to gag at the horrible taste. He then quickly gulped down some water. " Fucking disgusting. I swear, never again am I doing this.

" James turn," (name) said, clapping her hands to get Evan's attention. His eyes light up with mischief as he places the pig blood curd in front of James.

" Oh fuck. This one was bad," James groan as he covers his mouth, hoping he can answer the question. " James." Evan spoke as he sits up straighter. "You are known to be close to Shawn Mendes, Harry Styles, Nial Horan, and Justin Bieber. Rank them from most talented to least talented," Evan replied, trying not to smile.

There was silence in the studio as they didn't know what to do. The audience could only stare in anticipation, wondering what James would do. " I love them all. Each of them is talented and I like them on the show." He rambles as he tries to not answer the question.

" Are you going to answer or eat? " ( Name) asked, raising an eyebrow, her left hand resting on her belly. She was interested in what James would say.

" I can't," a sweaty James confessed as he picks up his utensils. He sliced a bit of the curd and picks it up with a fork. Lifting up the fork hesitantly, he takes a bite. Chewing before taking the bucket and spitting it.

He grabs his water to wash the bad taste away. "Now (Name), I think you should get the calf brain," James said, wiping his mouth as he spins the table. He picks up a card, reading the question before shaking his head.

" You are not going to answer this question. (Name)." Pauses for dramatic effect as he smiles sinisterly. " Have you ever had a relationship where the media didn't know...and with who? " ( Name) eyes widen, biting her lower lip as she glances at her manger. He was telling her to say the name, but she didn't know if she should.

" I was in a relationship. I was fortunate for the media not to know. It was with...um.." She paused as she looks at the screen. " I apologize to that person because I'm about to name them. I don't want to eat this so I have to answer truthfully. I want people to know that we were happy, but we just grew apart. There was nothing big about our break up. I hope he is happy and found someone to love. "

Evan grabs (Name)'s hand for moral support. He knew the break up was still rough for her and she is about to spill his name on national television. " He is Canadian and a singer…"

James lets out a gasp as he knew who it could be. " Were you dating Justin Bieber?" Everyone laughs as (Name) shakes her head. " Shawn," she whispers his name, lovingly still not over him.

It blew everyone's mind as fans started shrieking and screaming. James eyes widened as his mouth popped into an "O". " You were in a secret relationship with Shawn Mendes! How did we not know! You have so much tea to spill. Unfortunately, this is all the time we have. Thank you, Evan Peters and ( Name) ( L/Name)! "

*end*

Silence filled the room and Shawn shut the Tv off,thinking about what he just saw that he couldn't even believe that she was in a relationship with someone that wasn't him. It has only been 3 months since the ultimate breakup...separation because he always thought that they would be back together. He should feel happy for her but he didn't because he thought they should be together

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therevolutionwriter · 7 years

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Dominoes

Hey everyone! This is just another little story I wrote, based on the same prompt as the last. Any feedback or opinion on which is better would be adored!

It started off corny. It was something silly, like something out of a cheap rom-com. If you’d seen her that day, and had previously known my sister, you’d have to agree that from the back they looked like twins that day. Dirty blonde hair, round shoulders, faded black jeans. Of course, there were subtle differences, although I wouldn’t notice them until much later. Her version of dirty blonde was just a bit filthier, her sleeves ending a stitch higher on her shoulders, and my sister always wore Levi’s, while she wore Hype.

If you’ve ever had a younger sibling, you know the type of thought that went through my mind. Us older siblings have a reputation for being indifferent and on the border of mean. What we never tell you is that it’s all in good fun, and that secretly the younger sibling enjoys it to a degree (even if sometimes they don’t realize that they do.).

We hadn’t seen each other in roughly two weeks, if my memory hasn’t decayed as badly as some say it has. The opportunity to pull a jumpscare like something out of those old horror games was irresistible. So I snuck up on my tiptoes, looking like something out of the saturday cartoons. My hands pushed on her shoulders and I yelled in my most obnoxious child-like voice: “BOO!”

She jumped in shock (looking almost as if someone had literally taken a wire and shocked her), and turned to face me. My cheeks almost immediately began to hurt from the smiling, from the roaring laughter being emitted from my lips. My stomach followed suit, until I got a better look at her. My stomach switched gears and began to do flips, and my cheeks began to burn.

This girl was a total stranger.

She considered me with a look I can only describe as being somewhere between curious and confused, with an undeniable hint of what-the-heck-are-you-doing added in. To my surprise, she then grinned, eyebrows still furrowed, and let out a cautious laugh, her nose crinkling the whole time.

“What was that?” She asked, one eyebrow raised with interest (That eyebrow raising would later be something she’d try to teach me. I’d fail, of course.)

I stumbled over my tongue, searching desperately for words. What should one say after something like this? Should I laugh too? Walk away? After realizing that my silence was making the conversation more awkward than it already was, I managed to think of a sentence.

“You looked like my sister. Sorry.”

It’s strange what can start something big. How a chance encounter (especially cheap rom-comesque ones) can trigger long chains of events. Our fate was one of dominoes, and that day the first one fell.

As far as we knew, we had nothing in common, nothing but this one experience; this one strange, silly, childish experience. Of course, it didn’t take much more than that. We got lunch together, sandwiches from a corner store (I only remember that from the spilling of vinegar on my sandwich onto what was, at the time, my favorite hoodie). In some ways, it was a bit less like a cheesy romance novel than it had started out as. We weren’t obsessed with each other at first sight. That first lunch was void of flirtatious chatter, no subtle touches, no lingering eye contact. All we knew was that we were both in college, both came from families with high expectations, and both enjoyed sandwiches (I also found out that she doesn’t enjoy vinegar, although she’d always finish my sandwiches for me anyways.) We were friends, and that’s all. We made a habit of going out to lunch, and for a long time, that’s what our relationship consisted of.

It wasn’t until after about a year that…”something” happened. We got our sandwiches and sat down, as was the custom by then. I then went to the bathroom. I was only about a minute, and when I came back she was already halfway done with her sub. She urged me to hurry up and eat. I nodded and took what my five year old would now call a “big boy bite”. I didn’t notice at first. There was the crunch of the lettuce, zing of the vinegar, fleshy turkey taste. But there was something else. Something creamy, although definitely not my usual mustard. Smooth, but gross, something like lotion.

And that’s exactly what it was. She saw my face turn and screeched with laughter, turning heads in the store as she giddily sputtered out:

“T-THAT’S...THAT’S LOTION!”

I gagged at the words and began to spit the stuff out. I found myself laughing along with her, despite being genuinely disappointed that such a good sandwich had been wasted. And so began a more rapid falling of the dominoes. It was our little game, our inside joke. The things we did varied. One day, I gave her a sip of “water” (white vinegar). Another, she gave me a water bottle full of rum (and peroxide). And of course, to make time for the game we began to hang out at more than just lunch. Weekends, days off, anything that fit into our schedules. Some of my friends called her my girlfriend, whereas we didn’t call each other anything. Still, people perceived sparks between us, especially when she moved in with me.

I don’t remember whose idea it was to move in together, or if we even discussed it at all. All I have are vague recollections of her just being there one day, and me being okay with it. And of course, like a stereotypical dare-gone-wrong movie, our game intensified. She left a spider on my face while I was sleeping, I left baby powder in her favorite beanie. She hid my homework, I stole her makeup. And so on, of course. It was always fun, and while inevitably it went too far at times, we always made amends.

It was the night before April Fool’s Day. As you can imagine, at this time of year it was critical to get in the most hilarious and absurd pranks. I was sure I had her beat at dinnertime, after all, who could handle ghost pepper sauce? Meals were always a cherished time for trickery, and giving her a burger with some of the hottest sauce known to man seemed as good a prank as any. That was, of course, until I bit into my own burger, and after a moment felt as though I’d been French kissing a dragon. She’d been a step ahead, and had switched our burgers.

I went to bed that night with a sore tongue and even sorer attitude. The next day, I knew my reputation in this game was dependent upon my next move. I stayed up that night, staring at the ceiling and trying to block out the sound of the city outside. I listened for snoring, soft snores that she denied making but that I knew she did anyways. And by the time I heard them, my plan had been formulated.

It seemed simple, but far from innocent. I knew that she always left first in the morning, much earlier than I did (5:00, to be exact). The hallway outside of our apartment was hard and smooth, already just a bit slippery. I stayed up until 4:45, and then snuck out, restraining myself from giggling at my genius. I poured the vegetable oil just outside the door, and then set up my phone’s camera, ready for it to capture the moment she would slip and slide just as she set her foot out the door. My trap set, I went to my bed and pretended to sleep.

She awoke at 5:00. She took her shower, she got dressed, just like any other morning. She attempted to wake me in vain, also just like any other morning. I smiled to myself as I heard her gentle footsteps padding towards the door. As expected, there was a loud bump. What was not expected was the two voices screaming. Hers I knew, but the other voice had age to it, a sort of depth that she lacked. I rushed and ran up to the door, one part curious and two parts terrified. There, in the doorway, was her, her hand over her mouth like that dramatic scene from every tragic movie I’ve watched since. On the outside was an older woman, a mother as I’d soon find out. And at their feet, a near black pool of scarlet oozing out of his head, was a little boy. A very still little boy.

The rest, as they say, is history. I have a record now. When I got out, she was not there to greet me. At the court I can still feel the sting of that mother’s slap, the bark of her words. It almost stung as much as the rum I’d taken to afterwards. And of course, I’ve moved on with my life. Found someone, started a family. Even managed to get a job (ironically, at a corner store). But that’s not to say it’s behind me. It never will be, of course. Previously, I hadn’t believed in fate, but how else could such a strange chance encounter have led to that? That one mistake, that silly trick, it tempted fate’s hand to begin the tipping. And when that last domino fell, so did I.

#dominoes #short story #realistic fiction #writer #i wanna write #write life #writing #prose #tragedy #love #innocence #fate

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phantomjai · 6 years

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questions 1-100 ;)

;) 1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?Spotify!2. is your room messy or clean?It tends to be a little bit on the cleaner side but will be messy for awhile before I clean it.3. what color are your eyes?Like a blue gray

4. do you like your name? why?Ehh yeah I guess, it is spelled differently so sometimes it is annoying. 5. what is your relationship status? Single, but somebody better fucking date me sooner or later…. I have so much interesting drama to spill6. describe your personality in 3 words or lessBig dick energy7. what color hair do you have?It is brown… and gray… I at 20 have salt and pepper hair….8. what kind of car do you drive? color?Chevy Cruze and its gold!! 9. where do you shop?Target, forever 21, rue 21….10. how would you describe your style?comfortable11. favorite social media accountTwitter, follow me @phantom_jai12. what size bed do you have? full size 13. any siblings?Yes! An older sister and brother14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?Either Japan or Denmark they both seem like places I would love to live in! Maybe even Canada!!15. Already answered 16. favorite makeup brand(s)Elf and Anastasia Beverly Hills!!!17. how many times a week do you shower?Everyday but I only wash my hair like twice a week18. favorite tv show?I have a lot, ER, SVU, Criminal Minds, Grey’s Anatomy!!19. shoe size?9 1/2 20. how tall are you?5’ 6 1/2”21. sandals or sneakers? Sneakers all the time22. do you go to the gym? Not currently, but I want to start going at the beginning of the school year!23. Already answered!!24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?Cash? A solid zero dollars25. what color socks are you wearing? none, but usually they are a the ones from target that have cute designs!!26. Already done baby27. do you have a job? what do you do? no, but I wish I did! Hopefully I can get one in a couple of weeks!28. how many friends do you have? Close ones only a handful29. whats the worst thing you have ever done? Uhhhhh Idk nothing I’m not as cool as you think I am30. whats your favorite candle scent? Anything with mahogany.31. 3 favorite boy namesTheodore, Peter, and Matthias32. 3 favorite girl namesPenelope, Scarlett, and Charlotte33. favorite actor? Matthew Gray Gubler34. favorite actress? Alex Kingston35. who is your celebrity crush?Niall Horan and Hayley Kiyoko 36. favorite movie? The Avengers37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I read a lot before college, but my favorite books are any Rick Riordan books and Harry Potter!38. money or brains? Brains, I can make pretty stupid decisions so I would lost my money probably39. do you have a nickname? what is it? Jai! Perci! Jar Jar!40. how many times have you been to the hospital?I've never been personally41. top 10 favorite songs (most of these are more current faves!!)Got Over, White Man’s World, Flicker, God is a woman, dying in LA, Magic City, Curious, Miss you, Whatever it takes, and Partition42. do you take any medications daily? Nope nope43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)It is pretty oily ngl44. what is your biggest fear? …dying alone/afraid or something like that 45. how many kids do you want? 3 maybe 4 idk depends on who I marry46. whats your go to hair style?Well my hair is buzzed so….47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) Well im in college so its a small apartment, but my parents live in a moderately sized house…48. who is your role model? Hmmmmm… I really have no idea? 49. what was the last compliment you received?That my winged eyeliner looked good!50. what was the last text you sent?“Yah”51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?Like 10/1152. what is your dream car? Maybe a Tesla because I hate pumping gas53. opinion on smoking?Just watch out for your lungs and shit y'all 54. do you go to college? Yah! I am in my third year and it is terrifying 55. what is your dream job? I wanna work for sport teams social media!56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? I love rural areas but for work probably suburbs….57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? Fuck yea!58. do you have freckles? Very few and they're spread across my arms and such59. do you smile for pictures?Ehh most of the time 60. how many pictures do you have on your phone? …like 4,000…. but I have extra iCloud storage61. have you ever peed in the woods? nope62. do you still watch cartoons? Yes! I love rewatching older cartoons63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?McDonalds!!!64. Favorite dipping sauce? Honey or bbq sauce65. what do you wear to bed? Shorts and a tank top66. have you ever won a spelling bee?I cant spell for shit my dudes67. what are your hobbies?Eating, sleeping, and making dad jokes68. can you draw? Nope but I wish69. do you play an instrument?Yes! I play Violin, Viola, and Tenor Sax! I also know some Piano!!70. what was the last concert you saw? Panic! on August 1st and Beyoncé is next!!!!!!!71. tea or coffee?Both but Coffee most of the time72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?I love going to Starbies with my shisters73. do you want to get married?Yes!74. what is your crush’s first and last initial?I’m not crushing on anyone at the moment but... NH75. are you going to change your last name when you get married? Maybe, or maybe I will put both of them together76. what color looks best on you? Brown? Idk I usually wear sweatshirts and leggings so 77. do you miss anyone right now? Yah my besties78. do you sleep with your door open or closed?Closed it is the only way I can really sleep79. do you believe in ghosts?hm… yes80.what is your biggest pet peeve? People who think they know everything81. last person you called`My mother about what type of ice cream she wanted82. favorite ice cream flavor? Coffee or publix brand moose tracks83. regular oreos or golden oreos? ….. peanut butter oreos… but regular ones84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbow for that gay shit but chocolate is also a good choice85. what shirt are you wearing? A green tie-dye shirt from my Bio Club86. what is your phone background?A picture of Fjord my roommate drew87. are you outgoing or shy?Shy around randoms but outgoing with friends88. do you like it when people play with your hair?YES89. do you like your neighbors? At my parents no, idk who my neighbors are in my apartment 90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?Usually only in the morning but I try to at night 91. have you ever been high? nope92. have you ever been drunk? yes!93. last thing you ate? Some ice cream but before that pizza94. favorite lyrics right nowI’ve got scars even though they can’t always been seen 95. summer or winter? Winter96. day or night? Night 97. dark, milk, or white chocolate? Milk98. favorite month? October99. what is your zodiac signAquarius 100. who was the last person you cried in front of? I almost fake cried to Keely bc she wouldn't get me grapes…. but uhhhh idk man I don't cry in front of people

#Jai answers #yall im bored as shit #wtf help #Anonymous

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