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suncoved · 8 months

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OUCH! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x clumsy!fem!reader

summary; rafe wouldn't trade his clumsy girlfriend for the world.

warnings ; bit of blood (blood nose), fluffy fluff, ooc rafe fsss

you let out a huff to yourself as you reach your hand up to your forehead, clutching it softly and praying to yourself that you weren't sweating profusely. it was deathly hot in the outerbanks today, and your usually 5 minute walk to the cameron house had slowly turned into 15. you did not work well with heat, even after living in the obx for your entire life.

you knew if you called rafe and asked him to come get you at your house he probably would, but you wanted to have some dignity.

trying not to explode with happiness, you stepped into the doorway of the cameron house. with the ac cooling your body, you sighed in relief and made your way to the kitchen. you were always welcome at rafe's, you were there more than you were at your own house.

you heard someone yell your name behind you, whipping around to see rafe's little sister wheezie bolting towards you. "hi wheezie girl" you said as she really knocked you down from the force of her embrace. you had known wheezie since she was a baby and she loved and adored you like a big sister.

you ruffled her hair as she hugged you, though you were both quick to pull back from the heat still prevalent in your body temperature. "how'd the algebra test go?" you asked, adjusting her glasses that were now crooked on her face.

"not good, another D" she sighed, moving towards the kitchen counter as your eyes followed her movements. "its ok wheeze. you'll do better next time, i know you will." she smiled at you lovingly, before turning her eyes back to the current math question she was working on in her book.

you brought yourself to the kitchen cabinet, reaching in to pull out a glass. you loved rafes house, it was beautiful and clean and it had all your favourite things. food, blankets, a pool, an endless array of books and rafe, of course.

wait. where was rafe?

"where's your brother wheeze?" you asked, taking a sip out of your now full cup of water. "he went down to the gym with topper and kelce a bit ago, he's in one of his moods" she sighed, referring to the particularly touchy moods rafe gets in every once in a while.

which means he's extra pissed off than usual.

good.

you said goodbye to wheezie and made your way back out into the heat, walking down the steps and around the house to where the camerons gym was. you heard the loud rap music from miles away, the grunts of the boys echoing louder and louder and you got closer.

you got distracted from the damage of the hurricane on the shore of the beach outside the cameron house, your feet carrying you unconsciously towards your final destination.

you skimmed your eyes over the backyard, the pool foggy and murky, leaves and branches floating on top of the water. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh at wheezie jumping up and down with her phone in the air, trying to get wifi.

you were worried about how hard the cleaners and gardens were going to have to work to get the yard back in shape, but before you could come to feel empathetic for them, a searing pain arose on the bridge of your nose.

your eyes filled with tears as you reached your manicured hand up to your nose, the red crimson liquid staining your fingers and dripping onto your new yellow sundress.

because you weren't watching where you were going, you had run smack dab into the side of the entrance to the gym, your nose hitting the hinge that was sticking out of the wall.

you could taste the metallic substance dripping down your lips, your ears ringing from the pain. yes, you were always just a bit of a crybaby, but you had a low pain tolerance and bumping your nose hurt like shit.

you could hear the sound of weight dropping aggressively as you let out a whimper, clutching your nose in your hand. it was only seconds before heavy hands made their way onto your hips, an all too familiar strong cologne engulfing your nose, making it sting even more.

but you knew who it was, so you didn't hesitate to turn your body around and lay your head on his chest, your hand still protectively covering your nose. you couldn't help but sob at the pain, soft shushes and a hand rubbing your back comforting you softly as you wept.

rafe felt the blood stain his shirt, but he made no effort to move, kissing the top of your head softly.

it wasn't unusual for your daydreaming to lead you to injure yourself in some way. whether it was tripping over or banging into something, rafe knew your clumsiness all too well. but he hadn't seen you cry like this in pain since the 5th grade when you fell off the monkey bars and knocked your head.

along with his sets that were yet to finish, topper and kelce were now long forgotten in his mind. all he thought about was you, and the fact that you were in pain. it made him go fucking crazy.

"baby" he sighed softly as he gently pried you off his chest, pulling back to try to get a good look at your face. your hand was covered in blood, along with your lips and chin, the crimson red still dripping from your nose.

"fuck" he cursed, watching your tears flow down your cheeks in a steady stream. rafe wasn't often calm and collected, but this was a whole different level. he was freaking out.

he quickly took your hand in his, dragging you softly up to the entrance of tannyhill. the only thing he could hear was your whimpers and sobs echoing in his head, all he could think about was you.

before you knew it you were being lifted up onto the cool surface of rafes bathroom counter, the cold marble making you shiver as your dress rode up to expose your thighs. rafe quickly grabbed out multiple tissues from the box, gathering them together in his hand.

"this is going to pinch baby, i'm sorry. hold my hand yeah?" he asked — well — demanded. you felt him bring the paper up to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose softly to stop the blood flow.

he made quick work of multi-tasking as he kept the tissue on your nose, quickly cleaning the blood of your lips and chin. he didn't look you in the eyes once as the whole ten minutes he held your nose, waiting patiently before finally pulling away.

you had never been more thankful as you felt no more blood trickle down your face — and so was rafe.

he sighed as he threw the tissue in the bin, grabbing your face in his hands and holding leaning his forehead on yours. you looked into his eyes before he closed them and took a deep breath in.

"don't ever fucking do that to me again baby."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron drabble #outer banks #obx imagine

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harrysonlylover · 4 days

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Too Sweet

Summary: A glimpse into Y/n and Harry’s life.

A Hot Wheels Extra (Yes based off Hozier’s song)

Trope: Mechanic! Harry

WC: 3.1k

No warnings! Reading the series before is a must!

A/n: I know it’s short! But it’ll pave the way for upcoming extras!

Hot Wheels Series

Sweetness.

A feeling, a sensation, a memory.

It has surrounded and invaded the lives of two human beings for the past few months. The boy and the girl that we’re interested in started on the wrong foot—just like any two-fated lovers.

A shy soft girl conjured from broken sea shells and a bold boy who’s tougher than steel. A match made in heaven.

After a few songs, teabags, books, necklaces, strawberries, and car rides— a confrontation arose which was the beginning of their happily ever after.

Harry has never wanted to fix something so badly in his life, and this time it was not a car—but the relationship between him and the sweetest girl, his girl.

After she visited him that fateful night, he vowed to never let her see him in that state. She only deserved the best scenery and memories.

It was exceptionally hard for him to figure out emotions and cues—he sometimes felt like a cat attempting to solve algebra, but cats know nothing about Maths and he knows nothing about feelings—only that his heart rate becomes weird around his shortcake.

He was lost between allowing her to contact him first or taking the first step. It was on the third day of pondering that he decided he could no longer wait.

His first step included: a basket of strawberries, a hydrangea pot, and Emily Dickinson’s selected poems.

The author of this story believes that’s quite the move.

He had fiddled with the rings on his finger till she opened the door for him, making his heart skip a beat with her gasp and giggle.

His first step didn’t go badly—not at all. It earned him a mature conversation with shortcake and a kiss on the cheek that he daydreamed about later on.

They had both agreed that they needed a fresh beginning full of honesty starting with the fact that they both like each other.

Harry was sure that his face turned red at some point, but if he wanted to win her, he’d have to get used to being vocal with his feelings.

Their first date was scheduled and proposed by Harry who cleared his throat a million times before.

Y/n agreed enthusiastically and suggested postponing it a bit due to an upcoming project at her job and for time to pass—but also for the awkwardness between them to dissipate.

Despite the conversation they had, the only factor left for their apologies to be complete was time, and Harry didn’t object at all.

Time was a funny little thing to him—he didn’t like the idea of wasting seconds, minutes, hours, and days without getting to hear, see and feel her.

And so they hung out now and then in the field near his house, at his garage, and sometimes the library. Their small meetings helped with the barrier that should’ve been broken long ago—in fact, by the time their date rolled on they could’ve already been mistaken for girlfriend and boyfriend.

Harry distracted himself with cars from the early morning. It was Spring after all, and there was no time to waste.

His date with Shortcake was around the corner and he's so fucking eager.

1 hour, 32 minutes, and 40 seconds.

That's how much time he had left. His curses filled the garage as he scrambled to his car which was parked near the hydrangeas. Trying to get her off his mind resulted in getting him distracted from his scheduled routine, and now he had to hurry up.

It had been months since they softened and began hanging out, and even more since she found him drunk, though he doesn't like to recall that night.

He thanked the heavens and every star in the sky that she gave him a second chance, and he'd spend the rest of his days trying to show her why it was the right choice.

Everyone around him (only Kitty, George, Niall, and his sister) had noticed the difference in his behavior.

He became softer than usual that even strangers in town dropped their jaws when they saw him walking around in town with a gooey smile on his face (Y/n had sent him a picture of her face in agony having been in a meeting for three hours).

Customers felt weirded out when he replied with a 'Welcome' instead of going back inside with a scowl.

Though he kept his boundaries and barriers up for strangers and town folks—Y/n saw a whole other side that not even he was acquainted with.

He recently quit street racing for her. He was called a madman and a fool, but he didn't blame them—because he was for her.

She didn't mention anything about her feeling unsettled but Harry could sense her discomfort once he brought up racing. Her face would scrunch and she'd avoid eye contact. He didn't tell her that he quit racing except for a few days after. It wasn't that she didn't want him to enjoy his hobbies but she worried too much.

He's one of the most skilled drivers she has ever seen but her thoughts get to her sometimes. That night was the first time they ever kissed properly, he had been keeping his space but it was her that sealed their lips together under the dim light of her apartment.

He had many things to say back then—to explain that he was addicted to car racing but found her more addictive, that he didn't want her to worry for a second about him.

All of these evaporated once he tasted her lips for he was in heaven and couldn't spare a thought. He had been patiently waiting like a starving man and the idea of kissing her every day made him dizzy.

Their first date begins in 30 minutes, and he manages to get himself inside his car after a quick shower at his house, a fashion consultation from Snow Bun, and preparing their picnic basket.

When he asked her what she wanted, she only replied with "not something fancy" which made him scan his brain for date ideas.

He hadn't been on a proper date in ages, and even back then he wasn't as serious. But for his shortcake, everything was planned from A to Z.

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, his head bobbing to Stevie Nicks playing on the radio as he drove to her house. It was a short drive filled with anticipation and worry—he cannot fuck this up.

He parked and waited for her to come out of the building. His hand was itching for a cigarette, but he was trying to lessen consuming it.

It was a beautiful Spring Day in May and the smell of blooming flowers filled the air as soon as he stepped out of the car. He did so out of anxiety but also to be prepared to open the door for her.

He went for a simple yellow graphic tee with his usual Levi's and tinted yellow sunglasses. Yellow had grown on him thanks to Shortcake's yellow dresses. He secretly hoped that it was her choice of color for their date.

His train of thought was interrupted by her arrival in a short white dress with a bow at the chest, and pearl earrings. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid—the same one he styled yesterday, still intact.

She wore the sweetest smile on her pretty face. Harry placed his hand on his chest in awe of her beauty—she could wear a trash bag and he'd find her gorgeous.

"Trying to give me a stroke?" He laughed as he raked her body behind his sunglasses.

Blush instantly crept up her face as she stood in front of him while he inhaled her sweet strawberry scent carried by the spring breeze.

"Says you." She leaned in for a kiss without hesitation and Harry's knees buckled. He couldn't believe that she initiated most of their kisses—or that he can kiss her in the first place.

"Beautiful girl." He mumbled into the kiss, tasting the cherries she had earlier making him grin. They were full-on making out against his car as he cupped her ass above the thin sundress.

"We should get going." Her giggle halted their steamy session as Harry looked down on her face that's covered with sunlight before bowing like Princes in Disney movies.

He opened the door for her like he always did, observing her as she got comfortable in the passenger seat before closing the door and rushing to his side.

"Sooo what will we do?" She couldn't wait till they arrived at their destination.

"It's a picnic baby." The word rolled off his lips so easily—mainly because he got used to it. The engine roared to life as his car took the short road while Y/n expressed her excitement and chose a song.

Too Sweet by Hozier played through the speakers making Harry bite back a smirk knowing that this song was written for him and Y/n.

She was too sweet for him. A pure soul crafted in the Garden of Eden and sent down to earth to save him—he was one lucky bastard.

“You treat your mouth as if it’s heaven’s gate.” She sang along, allowing her hands to wander in the air as Harry sped a little down the empty road.

He adored the fact that she felt comfortable enough to sing and be carefree around him. She even danced as much as her position in the car allowed her—pointing fingers at Harry that he grabbed to kiss before she went on to another move.

Though his favorite thing had to be resting his hand on her thigh—a gesture that grew on him and sometimes kept him up at night. But now his shortcake was restless and he was too content in admiring her to let his hand wander.

After one ABBA song, Harry stopped his car and parked in the middle of an empty field—a lavender field. Y/n glanced around her, dumbstruck by the view that would forever be engraved in her brain.

The beauty of nature never failed to amaze her but it caught her off guard every single time. She stepped out of the car slowly, trying to catch up on every detail. It was a large field with no one to be seen but them—lavender was everywhere and the purple colour boosted the serotonin in her brain.

The smell though was something else—the scent of lavender that was kissed by the sun all day long mixed with the spring breeze freshened her lungs and planted an eager smile across her face.

“Harry, I—“ Her words were cut off by her shock and Harry’s body collided with her back. He wrapped his arms around, engulfing her easily before pressing a soft kiss to her head.

“Do you like it?” He whispered in her ear, relishing in the sight of goosebumps on her skin.

“I love it. This is so beautiful.” She turned around showing him the gleam in her eyes that he loved. He couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from her soft lips as the field of lavender surrounded them.

“Not as beautiful as my shortcake.” He pulled away fearing to get carried away.

She hid her face in his toned chest as the sun cast a warm ray on their love-filled bodies. Harry kept his bicep around her as he fetched the basket he prepared from the backseat.

“C’mon, honey.” He led her inside the field until they found a spot big enough for them to sit down.

Harry laid the plaid blanket on the ground and began unpacking the basket, refusing Y/n’s assistance.

First, he placed the charcuterie board filled with different types of cheese, olives, bread, meat, and crackers. Then delicious chicken avocado sandwiches followed along with a mini basket of strawberries and blueberries. An orange bottle was left inside the basket for Y/n to sip on in case she got thirsty.

“Are you hungry, darling?” She only nibbled on a few berries and crackers with her body resting sideways on the blanket.

“Not a lot. How was your day?” The smile never left her face as she accepted a cheese cube from his hand.

“Mhmm it was good but it’s excellent now.” Their noses touched before sharing more kisses like eager teenagers.

“We kiss a lot.” She pulled away, pressing a hand to her rosy lips that Harry likes to tire.

“Well…” He trailed off, replacing her fingers with his as he traced them over her jaw and lips. “If your lips aren’t sore then I’m not kissing you properly.” His whisper was low but echoed around her with the breeze.

“And if they’re not bruised…then I did not kiss you at all.” The red color of the blanket beneath didn’t stand a chance against Y/n’s cherry-red cheeks.

Her face fell hiding from Harry’s piercing gaze as she let out a chuckle. But she couldn’t really do that for long—Harry had a face that deserved staring at, especially since the sunlight was hugging it.

The subtle blonde scruff that scratched her every time he kissed her suited him so well. She didn’t mind the feeling it gave her—she even thought about how it would feel between her thighs.

They haven’t done anything sexual so far—he had been so respectful of her boundaries and waited for her to open the topic. She preferred waiting a bit longer—though she was craving simpler things—just like feeling him dip between her thighs.

“How’s Snowy?”

“He misses you. Almost brought him with me ‘cause Niall refused to babysit him but I eventually dropped him off at George’s.” He replied with an eye roll, remembering the rivalry between his pet and Niall.

“Well, I guess if he misses me then… I could spend the night?” She laid her head down on the blanket, observing as Harry’s face that hovered over hers brightened.

“Only coming for Snowy, eh?” He teased her, their faces inches apart.

“And you! Movie night?” Their movie nights grew popular as they picked a movie to watch every other night on his couch before ending up asleep with their limbs tangled.

“I’ll choose this time.” He caressed her soft hair, allowing his fingers to swipe through it—spreading the strawberry scent against his hand.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and his mind drifted to all the ways he could teach her not to roll her eyes at him.

They continued chatting, giggling, and kissing. They fed each other fruits and crumbs of the sandwiches while Harry insisted on wiping her mouth with a napkin. As the sun began to set, he jumped on his feet—running to the car, and coming back before Y/n could blink.

Whatever he held was hidden in his arms behind his back. She tried to steal a glance and failed.

“What do you have there?” He looked so much taller now that she was sitting.

A tall handsome man who kisses her every chance he gets—he surely escaped from one of the books she read.

“Give me your sweet smile shortcake.” He revealed a Polaroid camera and directed it at her, waiting for a cute pose with her wide smile before snapping a picture.

He kneeled next to her, waiting for the picture on the Polaroid to appear while she seemed more eager than him.

“Show me—I want it.” She giggled, attempting to see the picture that he was smiling at.

“No! It’s mine.” He hid it in his wallet while she climbed on his lap to persuade him with kisses.

He eventually folded and agreed to show her before immediately tucking it back in. Y/n only did what was fair and square—she used the camera to take a selfie of them that came out surprisingly successful and took it for herself.

“I’ll get back at you.” He threatened as they lay on the blanket hand in hand.

They sat in comfortable silence staring at the cloudless sky for what seemed like forever before Harry sat straight and handed her a book that she didn’t notice before.

“Read for me.” It was Emily Dickinson’s selected poems that he got her months ago—she had forgotten it at his garage and he brought it here to return it, and to hear her sweet voice telling the poems.

“Oh? You can’t read?” She teased, grabbing the book from his hand.

“Not when you can do it way better.” He rested his face in his palm waiting for her to begin as she flipped through the pages.

She cleared her throat before laying her fingers upon a nice poem while the Sun was setting behind her—casting a golden hue on her back making her appear as a sunlit angel.

“To see her is a Picture

To hear her is a tune—

To know her an intemperance—

As innocent as June—

To know her not— Affliction—

To own her for a friend

A warmth as near as if the Sun

Were shining in your hand”

Harry’s eyes couldn’t shift from her, and his ears blocked out the sounds of nature around him to fully indulge in her poem reading.

She read, poem after poem, blessing his ears with beautiful prose and her sweet voice. He wished he could record it and listen to it before he went to sleep.

They eventually packed up as the sun began to set, content with their first date and the memories they made.

They repeated the same routine as earlier: Harry opening the door for her, and driving to his house as they sang their hearts out to songs she chose.

Then he’ll make her feel at home, give her the Pyjamas she leaves at his sometimes or one of his oversized shirts. Dinner will be ready for her as he ends up folding and lets her choose a rom-com. Snow Bun will snuggle in with his strawberry sweater that she got for him and rest on their lap.

It was days like these that Harry looked up to. Any moment spent with his shortcake was more precious than anything else he could think of. Every detail about her was enough to have him dream of her at night lulling him into a blissful sleep.

He wasn’t too surprised though— for he felt that she would hold him captive.

She was his sweet girl—too sweet.

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dyaz-stories · 28 days

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you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #my writing #gojo imagine #jjk x y/n

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lexisecretaccx · 2 months

Text

High School Sweethearts pt.1 - Chris Sturniolo

PT2, PT3, PT4, PT5, PT6, PT7, PT8, PT9, PT10, ( rest of the parts on my Masterlist)

A/n: This is gonna be a series but PLSPLS bear with me bc I am struggling in school right now! This series reminds me of the K-12 Album tbf lol🤍🎀

(Chris sturniolo x Fem reader, skater Chris, nothing much atm, maybe a bit suggestive in a dream but not much else tbh.)

The bell rings, causing me to lift my head swiftly. I look around at the class and the other students are packing up so I copy, but just as I lean down to place my pencil case into my bag, a book slams on my desk making me jump out of my skin.

“You aren’t going anywhere y/n. Sleeping in class again?” My teacher Mr Rockwell looks down at me, his face cold and stern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night and..” he picks the book up off the desk, “no excuses. Good thing this is the last period because you can stay behind for detention. An hour and a half.” I sigh as he walks away before picking up a sheet of paper and placing it on my desk.

I place my face into my hands out of embarrassment, I’ve never had detention with this teacher before, I’m usually alert in his classes. “No more sleeping!” Mr Rockwell slightly yells from across the classroom and I pick up my pen before sighing and studying the page. Algebra. Math has never been my strong suit.

Mine and the teachers heads both shoot to the door as it opens with a squeak, a brunette boy walks into the room and up to the teachers desk, “You’re late again. Once more and there will be serious issues.” I hear Mr Rockwell say, before the boy replies “yeah sorry, see my brother had to..” “Excuses again! What’s the matter with the students in my class.” He mutters, leaning past the brunette to look at me.

My face flushes with embarrassment as the boy turns to look at me, he mustn’t have noticed there was anyone else in the class, I am seated right at the back to be fair. He smiles at me softly, before turning back to the teacher. I swear I recognised him, I think he was one of the triplets in our grade.

“Sit down.” Mr Rockwell mutters, handing the boy the same piece of paper he gave me. To my surprise the boy sat right next to me, probably to try copy me. “If you’re trying to copy me, you’re out of luck because I haven’t got a clue either.” I whisper and I look over to the boy, his eyes studying my face. “Do I know you?” He whispers back.

“I don’t know.. do you?” I ask in confusion because I haven’t ever spoken to him or his brothers, “yeah you’re the girl who sits at the front in science.” He chuckles and looks at the teacher at the front of the class and then back at me.I’m surprised he knows who I am, I didn’t know he was in my class.

“Oh yeah..” I laughed lightly. I look back down at my paper to try and make some sense of it, and I fail at that.

The teacher stands up and his chair squeaks against the floor, causing me and the boy to jump as we look up. “I need to go.. grab something from one of the other classrooms I’ll be 10 minutes minimum.” He spoke monotonously and walked out the class. I immediately look to the boy and he has the same confused expression on his face as I do.

“What was that about?” He looks to me for an answer, “I dont know but at least I don’t have him staring me down anymore,” I laugh, “what’s your name? Sorry I dont remember it.” I feel guilty, due to the fact that he knows who I am, I mean I know who he is but not enough to know his name, does he even know mine?

“Oh uh im Chris, and don’t stress it y/n u won’t be forgetting my name soon enough.” He smirks to me before his eyes focus on the equations in front of him. He knows my name. “What do you mean by that?” I laugh softly and he shrugs.

“Maybe you’ll remember me as the boy who stole the answers for this algae-bra shit.” He stands up whilst looking at me, “it’s Algebra, Chris, and you aren’t stealing answers, what if he comes back?”

“Chill, I’ll take the blame for it anyway.” He opens the drawer in the teachers desk and ruffles through some paper until he smiles and grabs a piece of paper, closes the drawer and walks back over to me. “You thief.” I joke with him as he sits back down and scoots his desk closer to me so we can share the paper.

We finish up with the paper and the teacher still hasn’t returned, Chris puts the paper back into his desk and we try to wait it out for the 25 minutes we have left. “Can we just leave now?” He rolls his eyes and taps his pen on the desk. “I wish but no. What if he comes back and we’re gone?” I watch him as he stops tapping his pen and leans down to his bag.

“Live a little y/n. He’s been gone for most this detention, it’s his fault if you leave early.” He packs his things into his backpack. “Plus I’ll write a note on his board and let him know we left ‘at the right time’” he does finger quotations and smirks, “fine.” I sigh.

He hops out his seat and grabs both our papers and places them on the desk, as I pack my things away. He writes on the board ‘sorry for being in detention or whatever but we did the work (it’s on ur desk) and left, love u teach xx - Chris’ “there.” He smiles proudly and I roll my eyes “you’re not funny.” I stand up.

We both sneak out the classroom and Chris leads me the way. We hear voices coming from a storage cupboard and he looks back at me before we go to move forward again but before we can start moving, the door swings open and a girl walks out, she looked about late 20s or something, she went down the hallway in the direction we were headed.

Chris turns to me and raises one of his eyebrows as if to say ‘what the fuck was she doing in there’ . About a minute later someone else stumbles out of the cupboard, my mouth drops when I realise it’s Mr Rockwell. He walks down the corridor towards his class which means he was gonna pass me and Chris. Chris pulls me behind a locker and my back is pressed right up against him.

Mr Rockwell passes us, and thankfully doesn’t see us. I let out a sigh of relief and Chris grabs my arm before we are running down the corridors and out the double doors. Chris leans against the brick wall, breathing heavily.

“I’m never doing that again.” I breath as I smile at him, “You know we will,” he smirks at me before checking his phone. “Shit I was supposed to be home like half hour ago I should go.” “But detention doesn’t end for what.. another like 10/15 minutes? Why would you need to be home before it ends?” I ask tilting my head slightly as he smiles and looks at his feet.

“Your detention doesn’t end for another 10/15 minutes, mine ended like 45 mins ago.” He looked at me, “what, why didn’t you leave when you should’ve then?” I am really confused now. “Didn’t want to leave you on your own.” He shrugged before grabbing a skateboard off of a rack. “Oh thanks.” I smile “You skate?” I try to hide my blush from his comment and bring my focus to his board.

“Uh yeah, do you?” He smiles down at me due to our height difference, “no but I tried once and I got scared.” I laugh, he laughs too before dropping his board onto the ground, “I’ll teach you sometime.” He starts to skate away, “see ya y/n!”.

I get home and throw my notebook down onto my desk, one of my pages is folded over, I hate when that happens. I turn to the page to unfold the corner and there’s writing on the page ‘know you would want this - Chris’ below that was his phone number. I smile to myself at his slightly messy handwriting and pick up my phone.

I add his number to my contacts and open up imessage. ‘How did you write that in my book without me noticing😂’ I press send. He replies with ‘gotta keep an eye on your stuff y/n😉’ we text back and forth for a bit before I go to sleep.

“You’re so pretty y/n.” I smile as he leans over me and smirks, “can I?” His hand plays with the seam on my panties. “Yes.. please.” He starts to kiss my neck, “fuck Chris…”

I sit up quickly, breathing fast. “What the fuck.” I mumble to myself before wiping my eyes and laying back down. Come on y/n you barely knew the boy before today and now you’re dreaming of him? I sigh heavily.

I’m never telling anyone about that.. ever..

A/n: omds I kinda like this.. I’m gonna try to make it a series but I won’t be able to update frequently! I love this storyline tho and I know where I’m going with this so bear with me!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———❤️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt #chris

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lordoftherazzles · 2 years

Note

Hi Razzy I love youuuu!! <3 Do you think that you could write a lil bit for the fic where Bilbo and Thorin elope in Vegas and then it turns out that Thorin is his new next door neighbor? Maybe using the prompt "berry picking" from the summer stories prompts? (imagine i've inserted the lil eyeball emojis here)

YES HELLO!!!

Thanks for sending in this prompt/ask!! :D This is my first time poking at this AU since the plot bunny, so this may or may not end up canon, but this is what I WOULD DO with this prompt and this AU-verse at this time, I think.

I hope you enjoy it, and get some sort of vibe as to what this fic could be!

-> Fuck Thy Neighbor (Plot Bunny) -> Summer Stories (Week 1)

Berry Picking

Bilbo wanted everything to be perfect for Drogo and Primula’s wedding, so when Prim had asked him to bake, he was going to do only the best he could. That meant fresh berries and fruits picked by his own hand. Not to mention, the local orchard farm was always a wonderful sight to see. The smell of ripe berries and fresh apples always tickled his nose in the best of ways.

This wasn’t just about the wedding sweets, but Bilbo often found baking to be a great passion, and a great way to relieve stress. He’d been dubbed a ‘stress baker’ for far too long, and to deny those labels now would be foolish. So the more supplies he had, the more baking he’d end up doing. With the current issue that was his new next-door neighbor on his hands…the house was going to be only two bread loaves short of opening up a damn bakery.

With a sun hat over his head and a basket hooked at his elbow, Bilbo just grumbled to himself as he inspected each apple carefully before either leaving it on the tree or plucking it by the stem to be sliced up later in his kitchen. He was a particularly picky man when it came to his fruits and vegetables, whether eating them or picking them out to see which had the most potential to be the most flavorful. Of course, his grumbling had nothing to do with bruised skins or fruit not being ripe enough for the picking. It was about that stupid neighbor of his.

A stupid neighbor that just so happened to be married to him in the eyes of the law.

Bilbo’s stomach lurched at the thought as he shook his head, snagging another apple into his hand and inspecting it before plucking it from the tree and carefully placing it in his basket alongside a few others.

Sooner or later he’d need to contact an attorney and relay this ridiculous story of how he had gotten accidentally married to some yeehaw whose last name he didn’t even know until a piece of Thorin Durin’s mail ended up in his mailbox by mistake. How embarrassing. The thought made Bilbo’s cheeks burn as if the sun were getting to him, and it prompted him to tug on that sunhat a bit harder in adjustment, grumbling to himself as his inspection continued.

Meanwhile across the lot…

“You can’t eat those yet!” Thorin growled towards a young blond kid who had berries in his hands and was running from his uncle while having the audacity to laugh about it. “Fili!” Thorin barked, tossing aside his basket of blueberries, and those laughing giggles turned into two and were more squeals than anything as Kili joined into the fray.

Two young boys were notorious for causing trouble. No wonder Dis wanted a day to herself and directed Thorin to take Fili and Kili to the orchard by himself. So much for ‘they’ll be on their best behavior!’, which was hardly the case as they ran, unclean berries in their hands and shoving them into their mouths–or trying to. The fact that both kids looked as if they’d stuck their heads in giant jam jars was something else.

Thorin was not handling bath time for them later. Rotten little rugrats–but he loved them dearly, even if his puffed out red cheeks at the moment said otherwise.

“Fili! Kili!” Thorin yelled, trying to wrangle the two kids, but for some reason, he had a hard time getting a hold of them. Charging after the two near the apple trees, and watching one of them clip their foot against a ladder as he was passing by, Thorin halted. The squeal from both of his nephews, and whatever gentleman had been up there picking apples rang loud in his ears. His arms automatically extended…and it was as if fate truly wanted to have the last laugh in making his day a big berry-covered and sticky misery.

“Wah!!” Bilbo squealed as soon as he had been caught, and stared into the eyes of his savior who had his firm arms locked around him…bridal style. “You!” With his brows knitting together, Bilbo wasn’t sure whether to start squirming or not as his cheeks continued to heat up in embarrassment, and even more agitation. “Put me down this instant!”

“You’re welcome!?” Thorin had half a mind to just drop Bilbo like a sack of potatoes at the lack of manners with such an unexpected rescue, but something in him tugged at his better judgment and placed his less than neighborly neighbor back onto his feet. “How about a thank you it’s not that hard.”

“It’s not my fault my ladder was jostled. I was minding my own business, thank you very much,” Bilbo’s eyes dropped to the ground where his perfectly plucked apples lay scattered, his face wilting in the process. “My apples…”

Thorin let out a heavy sigh, casting a glance over his shoulder toward two very guilty-looking young boys. “My berries…” He lamented, just as pathetically as Bilbo had before kneeling to start picking up the fallen apples from Bilbo’s collection. “Sorry.” It wasn’t the most heartfelt of apologies, but the intent was there. It was more than what the grump next door deserved in Thorin’s eyes, but then again…Bilbo had a right to be agitated.

“No, it’s okay…they’re kids, and they look sorry enough for the both of us,” Bilbo sighed as he was also collecting his spilled spoils before he and Thorin inadvertently reached for the same apple. One hand clasped over the other only to lock eyes for a moment too long. It was Bilbo who retracted his hand first. “Thank you.”

“Mm, welcome. I hope you plan to do something nice with these, you’ve picked all the really good ones.”

“Only the best for my apple pies. You should see the blueberry and blackberry buckets I have already. Primula is a big fan of my baked goods, but only if they’re fresh berries and apples. I’d hate to disappoint her on her big day.”

“A wedding?” Thorin asked with an arched brow as he placed the last apple in Bilbo’s bucket and rose back to his feet. “A properly planned one, I hope.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bilbo squinted his eyes as he followed suit and rose to his full height, which was a head shorter than the man in front of him. “If you’re implying our make-believe Vegas wedding would have any influence on this one, you’re sorely mistaken–”

“Uncle Thorin! Your blueberries!” Fili shouted, Kili toddling up behind him as the basket of berries was being awkwardly carried by the oldest of the kids.

“Thanks, Fee!” Thorin’s tone changed like the flip of a switch, not wanting to confuse his poor nephews with talk of weddings, husbands, and especially not Vegas. “Your mother will turn this into great muffins, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Fili and Kili shouted in unison as their big eyes landed on Bilbo. “Sorry about your ladder, Sir.”

“It’s quite alright, no one was hurt,” Bilbo encouraged sweetly, wearing that same tone that Thorin did that told kids that there was nothing to worry about here, even if moments before there had been bickering between himself and his…whatever Thorin was.

Wasn’t it like every married couple to bicker? That was another thought that made Bilbo shiver, but there was also something insanely humorous about it, which meant a real smile stretched across his lips.

“We need to make our way to the blackberry brambles and then we’re out of here. Say goodbye to Mister Bilbo.”

“Oh, like your neighbor Mister Bilbo?” Fili asked curiously, sending Thorin’s head spinning.

Way to expose that Thorin had talked about the guy on at least one occasion…by name…and in a non-malicious way, because why would one share that type of conversation with a couple of kids?

“Yep, that’s him, my neighbor Mister Bilbo, now…let’s go,” Thorin sighed, scooping up his basket of berries and prodding both boys at the back with his hands, “before you say anything else to embarrass me…”

And as Thorin prodded his nephews off, Bilbo simply watched in amusement, wondering if he had gathered enough berries for his impending baking frenzy…or if perhaps he still needed a few more baskets of blackberries especially before calling it a day here at the orchard farm.

Well…why not? Berry picking was most certainly a calming and favorite pastime of his and it had absolutely nothing to do with Thorin and his nephews making their way towards the brambles. Not at all.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #fic: fuck thy neighbor #razzywrites #razzledrabbles #the-girl-with-the-algebra-book

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aliaology · 5 months

Text

IN BETWEEN

summary: just two people in love

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: just love 🤍

no one would ever be able to come between you and quinn hughes. that was not a regular ‘statement,’ it was a fact. you and quinn hughes were hopelessly in love with one another since you were freshmen.

freshmen year was when you and quinn met. you met him in your algebra class. he was seated in front of you and you couldn’t see a single thing due to him being there.

you tapped his shoulder softly. his body turned to look at you, confusion plastered across his face. embarrassed, you spoke,

“can you lean down slightly? i can’t see the board too well..”

quinns confusion turned to a soft smile. he nodded and leaned down slightly. you pushed the bridge of your glasses up further on your nose and began to write your notes down.

after that day, he would lean down the entire class so you could see. it became a thing he liked to do for you.

a week later, he turned to you.

“can i steal your notes? im behind in this class and i cant fail or im out of hockey for the season.” he asked desperately.

that was the first thing you learned about him. you nodded and handed him your notebook. he smiled and turned around, copying your notes into his notebook.

you started to hand your notes to him everyday, because you took notice that he barely paid attention anyways.

it didn’t take long for you both to become friends. he began to see who you were, you began to see who he was. you weren’t the pretty popular girl for nothing. you were kindhearted, you cared. you tried.

he wasn’t the hockey jock who hated everyone. no, he may not have been a people-person, but he was kind as well. he meant well no matter what.

plus, you loved his family. his brothers quickly became yours. his parents, quickly became your second set. his family became yours, and yours became his.

he loved your mom, she was the sweetest woman ever. he loved your other mom, shes where you got the smarts from. and he loved your ten year old brother.

you two adapted to one another, quickly becoming each others constant. you circled around him, he circled around you. no one could come between you two.

“oh please, he doesn’t answer me that fast.” you’d tell your girl friends.

your friend, priya, rolled her eyes. “yes he does! he barely lets it ring.” she told.

“call him, right now.” she instructed.

you felt flustered, but did what you were told nonetheless. you shakily held your phone in your hand, clicking on his contact and pressing call.

priya was right, because not even two seconds later did he answer. “hello?”

priya gave you a look. your eyes widened and immediately you put the phone up to your ear.

“hey, quinny, uhm— what time does practice end?”

it wasn’t until junior year that people could see how in love you two were. the way quinn would look at you with such a longing gaze. the way he would light up when your name was mentioned, even if it was technically about someone else. the thought of you made him joyful.

then there was the way you looked at him. how you stared at him a little bit too much longer than you should’ve. the way you would get excited hearing the word ‘hockey’ because you thought of him.

you two were inseparable. and finally, you two began to date in the middle of junior year. years of longing for dates, late night talks, kisses, were finally over, because you got them whenever you wanted.

your relationship with quinn was one for the books. he’d laugh at your eyes, your smile, at the glasses on your face, but not because he thought you looked weird or funny, but because he finally had you.

you loved listening to him at night, getting the side of him no one else does. you listen to him call you things that make your stomach erupt into butterflies. beautiful, gorgeous, funny, smart. hes never seen anything or anyone like you.

in the relationship, you were the bold one.

“im new at this..” he admitted, embarrassed.

you were his first real relationship. he was scared to mess up. he was scared you would run off, or find someone better.

but you’d hold his face with both of your hands and place a kiss onto his lips, reassuring him that he was all you wanted.

sparks would fly when you kissed.

you both lasted to present time. you were still so helplessly in love with him just like you were in highschool.

just like you thought, he was always there, until he wasn’t because he was on a roadie. you hated his roadies, having him leave.

you hate when hes away, scared something will happen while hes at a game. you were already scared shitless when you watched jack fall into the boards and sit out a few games. who knows how you’d feel if quinn were to get hurt.

he hates when you cry. you cry every night before he leaves for a roadie, scared. he holds you tight, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. he was also, so in love with you still.

but you still got what you wanted. more everything in between. you got the love you deserved, and so did he.

tags (perm): @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @outrunangelss , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @p3nislawd , @queenmendes !

#hockey #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #in between #vancover canucks #vancouver

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spatialwave · 2 months

Note

Angus Tully is your tutor. Run with it.

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫. (fem!reader)

part 2 —>

pre-calc wasn’t your strong suit, it never was, but you’d be damned if it you would let it get in the way of being accepted into an ivy league—harvard preferred. you would be the first of your family to go to college and being sent to an all all-girls private boarding school was already taking quite the chunk of change out of your parent’s wallets. you had to make your time worth it.

but a d+ wasn’t going to cut it. a couple girls from your class had tried to tutor you, but with giggling and gossiping taking reign, it was a bust. you couldn’t concentrate on raising your grade and your teacher had grown desperate because he saw your potential.

that’s when they decided that maybe a boy from barton would be a good fit.

when they shared the idea you wondered how on earth the teachers ever thought it would be a good idea to ask a boy to tutor you. though, you assumed whoever they chose would be someone, for lack of better words, stuck up. a boy so focused on his own grades and getting extra credits, that you would be nothing more than a check mark on a box.

then you met angus tully and you realized you were so wrong.

he was handsome, tall and lanky. had big brown eyes that made you shiver anytime he glanced in your direction. you were a flustered mess around him, but you was certain it came off as seeming unprepared for tutoring sessions rather than being nervous because of him. you had to breathe slowly when he was sitting next to you, your text book open as he explained algebra to the best of his ability.

he had told you how he wasn’t top of the class, but compared to your level of knowledge he was incredible. if only you could concentrate, instead of your eyes fixating on his fingers as they traced the sentences in the textbook, or how he pursed his lips when he’d think over a problem.

you noticed every little detail about him in your first tutoring session, by the second session all you could do was admire him. you hardly learned a damn thing.

“did you hear me?” the voice broke into the daze you were in. your eyes had been fixated on angus’ lips as he spoke and you quickly perked up, clearing your throat.

“uh—“ you spoke softly, looking down at the textbook and your blank assignment sheet.

“you were staring at my lips, weren’t you?” he asked, your eyes darting to his face as you noticed the smirk he wore. god, there was no escaping this.

“what? no, i wasn’t.” you protested through a nervous laugh, feeling your heart beat quick against your ribs, “that’s silly.”

“it’s okay, i try to look down your shirt sometimes.” angus’ voice was low as his lips twitched in amusement.

your mouth parted in shock, your eyes darting down to spot a couple of buttons on your school uniform had popped open.

“your brave for admitting that,” you murmured, trying to hide the smile that dared to show on your lips as you let your gaze focus on the textbook.

“and you still won’t admit you were looking at my lips,” he teased you, turning in his seat slightly to look at you better. his brown eyes scanned over you, hoping that his interest was obvious.

you turned your gaze back to him, watching him with slightly narrowed eyes as you tried to form proper thoughts in your head. it’s like you were malfunctioning because all you could do was look at his lips again. thin, yet naturally pouty.

it was a blur—you hadn’t even realized you kissed him until you pulled back, your lips tingling and lips slightly parted in awe. you looked at angus and you were delighted to see how flustered you had made him.

his cheeks had dusted pink and he was pressing his lips together in a thin line after licking them, having tasted the cherry lip balm you had been wearing.

“i was staring at your lips.” you admitted, chewing coyly on your bottom lip as you watched angus closely, eager to taste his lips again.

“can i get a proper look down your shirt?” he blurted.

“oh my god,” you whined.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #the holdovers #angus tully fic #dominic sessa #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

Note

for the fic writer questions: 17, 36, 49

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to answer this - the semester is thisclose to being over and I'm really crunched for time trying to get projects done for school. I cannot WAIT for winter break!

Anyway here goes...

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

It's probably my Miss Fortune series. I've been having fun with the modern AU where Thorin is a cop and his brother is firefighter (and there's also time slips and alternate-universe-within-an-alternate-universe in one story as well. I don't know how many people are reading it or appreciating it, but I like it. :)

36. Do you visualize what you read/write?

I usually do when I'm writing. Some of the worst struggles I've had have been because I see a scene a certain way in my head and I can't make the characters see reason and let me write them that way.

When I'm reading, I tend to hear them more than see them. When I read Bruce Springsteen's autobiography a few years ago, I could hear him telling the story, which was weird, but made it more entertaining.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Right now, I'm working on Seven Days, which is the second story in my Miss Fortune AU. This one centers on Frerin and his trying to get a second chance at returning to the world of the living after he's killed in a fire. In order to do so, he has to fix his biggest mistake, and that involves winning back the heroine - Syd Prescott—with whom he has a slightly messy past.

It's been fun playing with the timeline, but writing time manipulation can be a real paint in the ass.

Anyway, here is a line from the chapter I'm currently working on...

Still, how the hell did he not only tell Syd the truth, but prove to her that he wasn’t just using her to get out of being dead? Or that he wasn't completely fucking insane?

Thank you so much for this!!! 💜💜💜💜

#the-girl-with-the-algebra-book asks #pixie anwers #Miss Fortune #Seven Days #Frerin Durin #Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin x OFC

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scyllas-revenge · 1 year

Text

Leap of Faith

aka an Only One Bed headcanon with no context whatsoever

because this popped into my head and I wanted to be able to write and finish something for once god damn it. @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book this is for you 🥰

Legolas/Human Reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 663

Rating: G

Read on AO3

New!! There’s a part 2 here!

Legolas is instantly flustered at the sight of the single bed, his eyes darting between you and the pillows and back again. Despite himself, he’s half-contemplating diving out the window to freedom—but at the look on your face, he forces himself to take a shuddering breath.

You’re more than happy to share the bed, you reassure him: there’s plenty of room, and you’re a heavy sleeper, so he won’t disturb you. But he rejects the offer smoothly. Elves do not sleep like mortals, of course, and he need not lie down to find his rest as you do.

For the first time, he regrets it.

Legolas is a gentleman: he turns away quickly as you slip out of your traveling clothes and boots and slide under the covers, but the rustling of your garments and slide of fabric against your skin is so loud in the silence of the little bedroom, so intimate, that his heartbeat lurches in his chest. By the time he risks a glance back at you, you’re buried in blankets and pillows, looking more at peace than he’s ever seen you.

And now there is nothing to do but wait for dawn.

He pours water over the coals in the fireplace as your breathing evens out in sleep. He paces quietly. He sighs. Time slips by, and his eyes dart to you more and more often.

He’s curious. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Legolas has so rarely been around mortals, and the way they sleep is fascinating. You’re deeply, wholeheartedly asleep—no wide-open staring eyes, no mind still active and wandering, elf-like.

He’s curious. Your chest rises and falls under the blankets, your breaths even, calm. In through the nose, with the slightest snore, then out through the mouth in a warm puff. He finds himself stepping closer to the bed, transfixed.

He’s curious. That’s all. His elven eyes can make out the darting of your pupils beneath their lids, the slight parting of your lips. He leans closer, unconsciously. Perhaps you’re dreaming—and he hopes, with a sudden jolt, that you’re dreaming of him. And as though in answer, your lashes flutter restlessly, a single word escaping your parted lips: “Legolas.”

Oh, fine. He’s far more than just curious.

Legolas is perched on the bed beside you before he is aware of it, his heart in his throat. Perhaps it meant nothing—very likely it meant nothing, for rarely was there sense to be found in mortal dreams. He should move away, and stop staring longingly at your sleeping form. You would hardly appreciate it if you knew.

Or would you? You had invited him to share the bed with you, after all.

Thoroughly defeated, Legolas slips under the covers to join you. Even in sleep, you’re enough to overpower him. And even in sleep, you turn toward him, clutching at his torso and pressing yourself close. His breath hitches.

Your hands clutch tight to his tunic as you nuzzle into his side, and Legolas curls against you, your legs tangling together. A shudder runs through his body.

He breathes in and out as evenly as he can, in imitation of you, and closes his eyes against the pillows, just as you did. Perhaps he can sleep as you do, just this once, so he can survive this overwhelming closeness. Keep his eyes shut tight and his mind closed off from the world, so he can outlast it.

It frightens him for a moment—the uncertainty of his tight-shut eyes, the lack of awareness of the wider world. How odd this mortal sleep is. It feels like a leap of faith. But your breath is warm and even against his neck, your hair soft as it splays against the exposed skin of his neck and collarbone, and his heartbeat slows, sleep—true sleep—stealing over him at last.

This leap is an easy one to take, for he has faith in you utterly.

#legolas #lotr fanfic #legolas x reader #only one bed #oh god i've written in the present tense for real this time #what have i done #this started out as bullet points BULLET POINTS at least i've polished it a bit more than that

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gassydumbjocks · 2 months

Text

Filthy Animals

Shawn sighs trying to focus on his algebra book again to study as he hears all the noise coming from the living of the apartment he shared with his roommate.

He couldn't have any worse luck than living with the most sexist, grossest, filthiest, and DUMBEST guy he've ever met, Jaden was watching the football match with his bunch of good-for-nothing bros again, or apes, like Shawn liked to call them, filling the house with the obnoxious sound of their dumb laughs and bodily functions, Shawn swore he couldn't pass five minutes without hearing (or smelling, even from his room) a belch or fart those ogres would let out, and then giggle like toddlers cuz it was so much fun for them.

"BOOOOOUUUUURRRRRPPP" the jock lets a fat bassy belch out after drinking a whole can of beer "Woooh Broo! Hahaha, that was a fucking BEAST! ah?" He says joking with his slob peers as they all agreed while watching the game or commenting about the breast or butt from the cheerleader girls they were dating on.

It was already enough for him, as he made his way out of his room decided to confront him, he found him on the couch wearing nothing but his nasty underwear and a hand under it as he scratched his balls casually, Shawn grimaced.

"Y'all will never behave?! I can hear your disgusting noises from my room, You animals!" He said, almost red from rage, but Jaden simply letted a goofy laugh with the dumb smile and look he always had, same with his dudes.

"Lil bro, relax a bit, we're bonding as we men should do, you afraid to cut the cheese or what?" he smirked as he lifted one of his legs and pointed right at Shawn, he grunted and before the poor guy could do anything "Protein fart bomb!".

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRTTTTTT!!!

The putrid stink of the protein combined with the beer and all that food he and his friends were eating hitted Shawn almost immediatly, making him gag and feeling nauseus, wanting to run to the bathroom and throw up, while Jaden was having a good laugh and fist bumping with his all his bros, some even responding with another fart just to bother Shawn more "Damn i fucking stained my briefs with that one hahaha" Jaden said smiling, and it was no joke as even Shawn could see the brown mark on them, horrifying him.

"Ewwww! STOP YOU BRUTE!" He covered his nose "You are an ANIMAL" he hissed giving him a killer look.

"What is your damn problem?" It was then when Jaden got done with his whines and looked at him "Why dont you fucking relax and start acting like a man? You could even join us if you wanted" He offered, for Shawn's surprise, but the nerd was so mad that he made a disgusted face at the idea of it.

"I wouldn't join a group of slobs without manners who only know how to think with their cocks and fart or belch non-stop like fucking pigs, You are so dumb that you cant even count past 10 or say your own names correctly!" He stated, The jocks made overexaggerated gasping sounds, seeming offended by it, Jaden just stared with a neutral expression, his 'you're dead already' look perforing him deeply. Shawn quite started to fear him once he lost his sudden dose of courage.

"We'll see who ends up being the animal here, lil bro" was all the jock said before focus on the game again, leaving Shawn with a bad feeling running throught his spine as he rushed back to his room.

"Idiot... He just wants to scare me" He said as he seated again in his chair to continue his studying for the rest of the night, A little worried tho, for Shawn he just said the truth, but he didn't know what the immature and stinky athlete could do to him, time after overthinking about it he decided go sleep, unaware of the plan the Jocks at the living were making in that moment.

During the next morning, Shawn woke up around 9 am, so he supposed Jaden would probably be at the gym before his training, he got out his room and walked to kitchen to have some breakfast, but to his surprise he was there, still in his undies as always when he was home , eating some brownies from a plate that was in the table, before smiling at the nerdy guy "Brodaah!, you want some of these? My girlfriend brought me brownies cuz she made some for the annual campus event tomorrow, but i can share" he said, as innocently as he could sound, Shawn narrowed his eyes at him and then at the brownies

"If you farted on them i swear i'll throw them to you" he threatened, Jaden rolled his eyes, grabbing another "Bro, grab some, i didn't put anything nor poisoned them, ya paranoid" He said "I left the white chocolate ones for you, i ate the rest"

The pale guy doubted for a sec, but then he thought that Jaden maybe couldn't even be that smart to think on something to ruin the food, he was the last of his class and his IQ didn't pass over 65.

He slowly extended his arm, and picked up a brownie, he sniffed it before "Smells a bit rare... What did she use to bake them?"

Jaden simply proceeded to shrug "they tasted good to me, just try one bruh! You wont regret" The jock said once again, Shawn looked at it unsure of what to do, after some eternal seconds, he sighed and finally bited the brownie, gulping it down his throat once finished

"Eh... Actually it wasn't so bad-" He got interrupted by a huge growl, coming from his deep gut in his stomach, he held it in pain with a hand, and somehow for some reason he started to feel a bit... Bloated.

"What the hell was in that?!" The nerdy guy looked in horror the taller jock, who just dedicated him an evilish and satisfied grin.

"You'll see, lets just wait it does its effect" He said, Shawn tried to run, but he couldn't move neither "This is bullsh-..SHIOOooOOOUUURRRRPP" a wet then deep and smelly belch made its way out of him out of nowhere, but instead of feeling ashamed, that burp seemed to take all the worry out of him and leaving him on a slacking and relaxed state.

"Cool haha" Jaden approached him, seeing the scrawny boy with a lost look standing there "Now we can start... Where should we... You said we were animals, but what if i tell you you are one too? Man, you even smell worse than me, just sniff your pits!"

Shawn proceed to lift his arm and sniff deeply, he showered daily, but now his armpits immediatly took a fetid and rank odor that could make even the strongest faint.

"And you also said we dont have manners, remember? You dumbass, we both know your fumes are deadly, you love to let it rip bruh hahaha"

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRTTTTTT!!

That blast made Shawn's pants vibrate at the bass from that fart, with each gas he letted out, his expression seemed more and more relaxed and drool scaped from his lips.

"You forgot you are such a dumb jock" Shawn made a goofy laugh at that as he scratched his butt.

"Such a dumb and gross jock"

"BOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUURRRRRRP" was Shawn's response this time.

"You truly are an animal, dude, so dumb and filthy i cant imagine how you are even able to talk haha"

"Du... Dumb hahaha" A new deep voice came out of his throat, and then he belched again before grinning stupidly.

"Oh and, for the record" he made a pause "I did farted on those brownies, but just yours man, and Bryan could possibly rubbed them in his ass... And Wesley maybe burped on them too, i dunno, just enjoy the extra flavor haha"

Shawn never felt more dizzy or dazed in all his life, not that it mattered now tho, his life now was being a hot dumb and smelly jock, blasting burps and farts as if it was his own breath, it felt good to be dumb, it felt good to act like a man.

#male burp #male farts #iq loss #macho #dumbing down #male tf #alpha man

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