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gyuuberryy · 27 days ago

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extra credit!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x downbad!reader

synopsis: getting tutored by the smartest guy in school should’ve helped your grades—not tanked your dignity. jungwon thinks you’re flirting to distract him from actual studying, and the more you try to act normal, the more he seems to think you’re in love with him. which, okay, maybe you are. but that’s not the point. unfortunately, there’s no syllabus for surviving weekly sessions with your crush when every word you say sounds like a love confession.

genre: highschool au, crack, slowburn, fluff, slight angst

warnings: reader is embarrassingly down bad, some kissing

note: this is like my second tutor!jungwon fic🙏🏻 why don't tutors like this exist irl. anyway enjoy reading!!

word count: 8.2k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

2k event | previous | next

you didn’t ask to be tutored by jungwon.

in fact, you were actively hoping the school would forget about your tragic math grades entirely—like, maybe the universe would take pity on you and spontaneously erase the concept of vectors from existence. but when your teacher announced you’d be getting help from the yang jungwon, top student in your year, you knew you were doomed.

walking to the library now, your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with the questionable cafeteria lunch. jungwon was everything you weren’t—composed where you were a mess, effortlessly intelligent where your brain short-circuited at basic equations, terrifyingly observant when you could barely remember your own schedule. and, because the universe hated you, he was also stupidly attractive.

you’d noticed it the first time you saw him in your class, head tilted as he scribbled something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. his uniform always looked annoyingly perfect, like he’d stepped out of some academic themed photoshoot, while yours was perpetually wrinkled and half tucked. and his voice—god, his voice was unfairly soft, which made your stupid heart stutter when he answered questions in class.

of course, you’d never admit any of this out loud. you weren’t even sure when the crush had started—maybe when he’d stayed after school to help a lost freshman find their classroom, or when he’d laughed at some dumb joke in the cafeteria and his nose scrunched up in a way that made your chest ache. it didn’t matter. what mattered was that now, you were about to sit across from him for an hour every week, trying not to combust while he explained polynomials or whatever.

you paused outside the library doors, taking a deep breath. act normal. don’t say anything weird. don’t stare at his hands. don’t—

the door swung open before you could finish your mental pep talk, and there he was, blinking at you like he’d been waiting.

“you’re late,” jungwon said, but there was no real annoyance in his tone, just that quiet amusement that always made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.

“traffic,” you deadpanned, then immediately wanted to kick yourself. traffic? you walked here.

jungwon’s lips twitched. “right.”

he stepped aside to let you in and as you brushed past him, you caught the faint scent of his laundry detergent—something clean and warm, like sunlight. great. now you were sniffing him.

this was going to be a disaster.

you had promised yourself you’d act normal. no weird jokes, no nervous rambling, definitely no accidental slips of the tongue that would make him think you were even more of a mess than he already did. you’d rehearsed it in your head all morning.

but then, barely ten minutes into your first study session, your traitorous mouth betrayed you in the worst possible way.

“so if you move the x over here—” jungwon was saying, his voice calm and measured like he wasn’t currently explaining something that might as well have been ancient Sumerian to you. you were nodding along like you understood, gripping your pen so tight your knuckles were turning white, when he paused and glanced at you. “got it?”

“yes, sir—i mean, jungwon,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out before your brain could catch up.

the second it left your mouth, your entire body went rigid. no. no no no. you didn’t just say that. you didn’t.

jungwon didn’t laugh. he didn’t even smirk. he just—stopped. his pencil hovered mid air, and for one horrifying second, you swore his eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly, painfully deliberately, raised an eyebrow at you. like he was mentally adding this to a list titled reasons my tutoring student might be insane.

then, without a single comment, he went right back to explaining the equation, as if you hadn’t just shattered your own dignity into a million tiny pieces.

you wanted to die. you wanted to melt into a puddle and seep through the library floorboards. you wanted to invent time travel just so you could go back and slap your past self before those cursed words could escape. but instead, you just sat there, your face burning so hot you were surprised your skin wasn’t peeling off, and pretended to focus on the worksheet like your life depended on it.

which—ha. focus? impossible. the numbers on the page blurred together, your brain too busy short circuiting over the fact that yang jungwon was sitting right there, close enough that you could see the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks when he looked down at the paper, the faint crease between his brows as he worked through the problem. his fingers were long and slender, his nails neatly trimmed—of course even his hands were perfect—and every time he tapped his pencil against the page, you swore your heartbeat synced up with the rhythm.

then it got worse.

he leaned over to point out a mistake in your work, his arm brushing against yours, and—oh.

his sleeve was soft against your skin, the warmth of him seeping into you like sunlight, and suddenly, breathing felt like an advanced skill you hadn’t mastered yet. your lungs forgot how to function. your throat went dry. you could smell his shampoo, something clean and subtly sweet, and it was distracting in a way that should’ve been illegal.

you fake coughed into your elbow, desperate to disguise the way your breath hitched, but the damage was already done. your brain had officially abandoned all rational thought, leaving behind only static and the frantic, looping mantra of don’t freak out don’t freak out don’t freak out—

but you were freaking out. and your hands, apparently operating on pure panic autopilot, decided the best course of action was to start doodling in the margins of your notebook like a middle schooler with a crush.

you weren’t even paying attention to what you were drawing—just desperate to do something with the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. your pencil moved on its own, sketching lazy shapes, swirls, half formed equations you’d already given up on understanding. and then, because you seemed to be your biggest enemy, your subconscious took over.

you didn’t even realise what you’d written until jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, slow and deliberate.

“god of math… and my heart?”

your entire body locked up.

your pen slipped from your fingers, clattering against the table before rolling off the edge, but you didn’t even move to catch it. you just stared, numb with horror at the evidence of your own humiliation: right there, in messy, ink-smudged letters, surrounded by half hearted calculations and a poorly drawn heart, were the words god of math… and my heart?

your eyes snapped up to meet his.

jungwon was staring at you. not just glancing, not just mildly curious—full-on staring, his dark eyes flickering between your face and the notebook like he was trying to decide if you were joking or if he needed to call for a mental health intervention. his lips were slightly parted, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and way too much amusement for your sanity to handle.

your soul left your body.

“that’s—it’s not—” you stammered, your voice coming out strangled as you slapped your hand over the doodle like that could somehow erase it from existence. but it was too late. he’d seen it. he’d read it. there was no coming back from this.

jungwon tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “so,” he said, dragging the word out like he was savouring your suffering, “are we here to study math… or feelings?”

your face was on fire. you were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing altogether. somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint sound of a librarian shushing a group of freshmen, the rustle of pages turning, the hum of the overhead lights—normal, everyday sounds that felt completely detached from the reality where you had just accidentally confessed to jungwon via notebook doodle.

“i—that’s not—oh my god,” you choked out, burying your face in your hands. “can we pretend i never picked up a pen?”

jungwon let out a quiet huff of laughter—actual laughter, warm and low and devastating to your already fragile composure, before sliding the worksheet back toward you.

“focus,” he said, his voice light but firm, like he wasn’t the entire reason you couldn’t. “we’re on question three.”

you swallowed hard, staring down at the paper like it held the answers to all your problems. but the numbers might as well have been dancing. your heart was pounding so loud you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

this was going to be the longest tutoring session of your life.

the next session started with an immediate, glaring difference that made your stomach drop the moment you slid into your usual seat: jungwon had positioned himself a full twelve inches further away than normal. not enough to be obvious to anyone else, but enough that you noticed immediately—enough that the space between you suddenly felt calculated, deliberate, like he'd used a ruler to measure out the exact distance required to maintain proper tutor-student boundaries while still being able to pass you worksheets. his posture was still picture perfect, his notes still organised with military precision, but there was a new tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before, a carefulness to his movements that made your palms sweat.

he was polite—painfully so—with that same quiet professionalism he always had, but his voice carried a new kind of measured calmness. you couldn't even blame him. not after last time. not after the doodle. not after you'd basically turned into a malfunctioning robot every time he so much as breathed in your direction.

you tried desperately not to stare at the way the library's fluorescent lights caught the subtle highlights in his hair, or how his long fingers tapped rhythmically against the edge of the textbook—one two three, pause, one two three—a nervous habit you'd never noticed before. you tried to focus on the equations swimming across your notebook page, but the numbers might as well have been written in hieroglyphics for all the sense they made to your currently short-circuiting brain.

was he uncomfortable? had you made him uncomfortable? the thought made your stomach twist violently. you hadn't meant for any of this to happen. that stupid doodle had just... appeared, like some kind of subconscious betrayal, and now you were paying the price for it in the form of this excruciatingly careful distance jungwon was maintaining between you.

then, just as he was midway through explaining some godforsaken exponent rule—his voice smooth and steady like he wasn't currently dismantling your entire nervous system—he paused. his pencil hovered over the page, and for one heart stopping moment you thought he'd caught another glaring error in your work, but then he glanced up at you through his unfairly long lashes, his dark eyes utterly unreadable and dropped the verbal equivalent of a grenade into your lap with terrifying casualness: "you don't have to flirt to get out of studying, you know."

the world stopped spinning.

your brain short circuited so violently you could practically hear the fizzle of your neurons giving up. your mouth fell open, then snapped shut, then opened again like a malfunctioning marionette as every single thought in your head evaporated at once.

"i wasn't flirting!" you blurted out, far too loudly, earning an immediate and aggressive "shhhh!" from the librarian three tables over.

your face burned so hot you were surprised your skin didn't melt off, but the words kept tumbling out in a desperate, rambling avalanche.

"i just—you're very well-spoken! i mean—not that i notice that! i don't think about your voice at all, ever. like, not even a little. it's just a normal voice. a totally unremarkable, not-smooth, not-nice-to-listen-to voice—"

the moment the words left your mouth felt like deja vu,because you wanted to die again. wanted to spontaneously combust. wanted the library floor to open up and swallow you whole because oh god, you'd just insulted his voice while trying to compliment it, and now he was definitely going to think you were either insane or the world's worst liar—which, honestly, you might be at this point.

jungwon's expression didn't so much as flicker. he just looked at you with that same infuriatingly neutral face, though you could have sworn you saw the faintest glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement? disbelief? sheer existential despair at having to tutor someone this socially incompetent?—before he turned back to the textbook with the air of a man who had seen too much.

"right," he said, his voice drier than the sahara, "let's just... focus on the math."

you swallowed hard enough to hurt your throat, nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls as you attempted to glue your attention to the worksheet in front of you. but the numbers blurred together, your thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of oh god oh god oh god and why can't i be normal for five seconds and please let me disappear right now. the air between you felt thick enough to choke on, every rustle of paper, every shift in posture amplified to deafening levels in the silence.

what followed was nothing short of a masterclass in humiliation. every attempt you made to contribute to the lesson ended in disaster.

"so if x equals... uh... the thing that's... not y?" you stammered at one point, watching in real-time as jungwon's eyebrows crept higher up his forehead like they were trying to escape your nonsense.

when you reached for your pen, your butterfingers decided to send it clattering to the floor with a noise that echoed through the entire library. you lunged after it like your life depended on it, only to smash your knee against the table leg hard enough to make the textbooks jump.

"i'm fine!" you hissed through gritted teeth, rubbing your throbbing knee as jungwon stared at you with the expression of a man seriously reconsidering his volunteer work at as a tutor.

by the time the session limped to its merciful conclusion, you were a shell of a human being. your notes looked like they'd been taken by someone having a stroke, half legible equations interspersed with frantic scribbles and the occasional subconscious doodle that you immediately scratched out before it could betray you again. your dignity had long since packed its bags and left the country. and jungwon? he just gathered his things with that same infuriating calm, slinging his bag over his shoulder with effortless grace before pausing to look at you one last time.

"next time," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear it, "just tell me if you don't understand something." a beat. "it's less... dramatic."

then he was gone, leaving you sitting there with your face burning, your heart pounding, and the sinking realisation that you now had approximately six days, fourteen hours, and twenty three minutes to figure out how to face him again without spontaneously combusting from sheer embarrassment.

the moment your head hit the pillow that night, your brain decided to stage the world’s most brutal highlight reel of every single embarrassing interaction you’d ever had with jungwon. you squeezed your eyes shut, but the memories played in vivid technicolour behind your eyelids, each one more excruciating than the last.

first, the meme incident. you’d meant to send him a screenshot of the math problem you were struggling with, but instead, you had somehow selected and sent an entirely different screenshot from your camera roll: a stupid meme that just said "i want you" in bold, gliterry letters.

you’d realised your mistake immediately, frantically typing "NO I MEANT TO SEND THE MATH PROBLEM I NEED HELP" in all caps, but the damage was done.

jungwon had left you on read for a full twenty minutes before responding with nothing but a dry "question 3.7 is on page 46." no mention of the meme. no acknowledgement of your mortified follow up messages. just math. always math.

then there was the handwriting debacle. last week, when he’d written out a particularly complex formula in his annoyingly perfect script with each number and symbol aligned with geometric precision, you’d blurted out, "your handwriting is so nice, i bet your love letters are pretty."

the second the words left your mouth, your soul had left your body. jungwon had just blinked at you, his expression completely blank, before slowly sliding the notebook back toward you and saying, "focus. we’re on question five."

and now today. today. the way he’d looked at you when you’d tripped over your own words, your own pen, your own damn feet—like he was watching some tragic comedy where you were the unwilling star. the worst part was he never called you out on any of it. never laughed, never teased, never even acknowledged the sheer magnitude of your awkwardness. he just stared at you with that unreadable expression, those dark eyes giving nothing away, and continued tutoring like you weren’t slowly combusting in your seat.

you groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your stomach and pressing your face into the mattress like you could suffocate the memories away. why couldn’t you just be normal around him? why did your brain short-circuit every time he so much as glanced in your direction? why did your mouth betray you with increasingly unhinged comments that you would never say to anyone else?

outside your window, a car passed by, its headlights casting fleeting shadows across your bedroom walls. you stared at the ceiling, your chest tight with something between frustration and longing.

part of you wished he would just call you out on it—laugh at you, tease you, anything to break this unbearable tension. at least then you’d know what he was thinking. at least then you could stop wondering if he pitied you, if he was uncomfortable, if he was counting down the minutes until these tutoring sessions were over.

but he didn’t. he just kept showing up, kept explaining equations with that same calm patience, kept sitting just a little too far away, close enough to teach, far enough to remind you that whatever this was, it was strictly academic.

the weird air conditioner of the library hummed softly overhead, as jungwon watched you fumble with your notebook for what felt like the hundredth time that session.

your pencil—the third one you'd dropped in the past twenty minutes, slipped from your grasp again, rolling across the table toward him with a quiet clatter that echoed unnaturally loud in the nearly empty library. he caught it effortlessly between his long fingers, the movement so smooth it was almost frustrating, and when his fingertips brushed against yours as he handed it back, you inhaled sharply like you'd been shocked, jerking your hand away way too fast and nearly knocking over your half empty water bottle in the process.

"thanks," you mumbled, staring down at your work like held the secrets of the universe rather than just being a series of meaningless numbers that refused to make sense no matter how long you stared at them. the numbers blurred together as you became hyper aware of every tiny detail, how close his arm was to yours on the table, the way his sleeve brushed against your wrist every time he reached to point something out, the faint scent of his laundry detergent that somehow made even the musty library air smell better.

jungwon cleared his throat in that careful way he always did when he was about to say something he'd clearly rehearsed in his head first, and you could practically see him mentally selecting each word before speaking. "you're getting better at these," he said, tapping the paper where you'd actually managed to solve one problem correctly against all odds.

his voice was still calm and measured like always, but there was something softer in his tone today, something almost encouraging that made your traitorous heart skip a beat. "just need to watch your signs when you—"

"i got a B!" you suddenly blurted out, slapping your quiz paper onto the table with way more force than necessary, the sound reverberating through the quiet library like a gunshot.

"on the last quiz! i mean, it's not an A or anything, and there's still like three red marks where i clearly didn't know what i was doing, but considering i was barely scraping D's before and mrs. kim said i might have to retake the class if i didn't improve and—"

and then, before your brain could catch up with your body's terrible decisions, you threw your arms around him in a burst of pure, unfiltered excitement that immediately turned into pure, unfiltered panic the second you made contact. you froze, suddenly hyperaware of every point where your bodies touched—how warm he was despite the library's aggressive air conditioning, how nice he smelled— like fresh cotton and something faintly minty with just a hint of citrus, how his breath hitched almost imperceptibly against your shoulder before his entire body went rigid with surprise.

you sprang back so fast your chair screeched against the floor, "oh my god, i'm so sorry, i don't know why i did that, that was completely inappropriate, i swear i wasn't trying to— i mean, i know we're not— i should've just—"

"it's fine," jungwon interrupted, his ears turning a shade of pink you'd never seen before and that you immediately committed to memory.

he adjusted his collar unnecessarily, like he needed something to do with his suddenly fidgety hands, and you noticed the way his fingers trembled slightly before he clasped them together on the table.

"you... you earned that B. good job." his voice sounded slightly strangled, like he was fighting to keep it steady while he was clearly flustered just as much as you were.

an awkward silence settled over you both that was so thick you could practically choke on it. you stared down at your hands, willing the burning in your cheeks to subside even as you could feel the heat spreading down your neck, while jungwon cleared his throat for what felt like the hundredth time and opened his planner with slightly too much force, scribbling something quickly before turning back to your work with forced professionalism.

"let's look at the ones you missed," he said, his voice steadier now but still not quite meeting your eyes, like he was forcing himself back into tutor mode through sheer willpower alone.

you nodded mutely, sneaking a glance at his planner when he wasn't looking (which was definitely an invasion of privacy but you were way past caring at this point). in the margin, in his annoyingly perfect handwriting that you'd secretly tried to imitate more than once, you could just make out: "focus: not how happy she looks right now" with the last three words crossed out messily but not completely, like he'd regretted writing them but couldn't bring himself to fully erase them either. the sight made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest despite your embarrassment.

the next week found you both in the library past closing time, the only ones left under the dimmed lights that cast long shadows across the tables. your head drooped dangerously close to your textbook as exhaustion weighed on you, your eyes struggling to stay open after hours of studying and what felt like gallons of terrible library coffee. the numbers on the page had started swimming together about thirty minutes ago, and you were pretty sure the last equation you'd written down was actually just nonsense at this point.

"maybe we should call it a night," jungwon suggested, packing his things with his usual quiet efficiency but moving slower than normal, like he was just as tired as you were.

there was a faint smudge of ink on his cheek from where he'd absentmindedly rubbed his face earlier, and you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to wipe it away.

you lifted your head blearily, taking in the way the soft golden light caught his sharp features, highlighting the tired shadows under his eyes that made him look oddly vulnerable. his usually perfect hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it one too many times, and a few dark strands fell into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch to push them back.

"mmm, but you're so cute when you're focused," you murmured without thinking, your sleep-deprived brain-to-mouth filter completely malfunctioning as the words slipped out in a drowsy mumble.

the second the words left your mouth, your eyes flew open wide as every ounce of drowsiness fled your body in a rush of sheer panic. jungwon's hands stilled on his notebook, his entire body going rigid like he'd been electrocuted. you watched in horrified fascination as a slow, creeping flush travelled up his neck, staining his cheeks a pink so vivid you could see it even in the dim lighting.

"i mean—! i mean you're very—! the way you explain things is—!" you buried your face in your hands with a groan, your voice muffled against your palms. "i'm going to walk into traffic. just push me into the street, it'll be kinder for everyone involved."

to your utter shock, jungwon let out a quiet huff of laughter, the sound so soft you almost missed it but so genuine it made your chest ache. "just go home and sleep," he said, his voice warmer than you'd ever heard it, with a fondness that made your traitorous heart skip several beats.

"we'll pick this up tomorrow." he hesitated for a second before adding, almost too quiet to hear, "and... thanks. i guess."

the following afternoon, you slid a bubble tea across the table toward him without meeting his eyes, the condensation from the cup leaving a wet trail on the wooden surface.

"here. for, uh. being smart. and stuff." you'd spent an embarrassing amount of time at the boba shop that morning agonising over which flavour to get him before remembering he'd mentioned liking taro once in passing months ago.

jungwon stared at the drink, then at you, his eyebrows inching upward toward his hairline in a way that would've been comical if you weren't currently dying inside.

"you're thanking me... for being smart?" he asked slowly, like he was trying to parse some complex equation from your words.

"shut up," you groaned, taking an aggressive sip of your own drink to avoid having to explain further, the too-sweet strawberry flavour bursting across your tongue.

jungwon's lips twitched in that barely-there smile you'd come to live for as he poked the straw through the seal, taking a slow, deliberate sip. the way his eyes lit up at the taste— like he was genuinely surprised you'd remembered his favourite flavour—made your stomach flip wildly, and you had to look away before you did something even more embarrassing than usual.

"it's good," he admitted after a moment, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

"thanks." he took another sip, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, like the simple act of drinking something you'd brought him had unwound some tightly coiled tension in him.

"no problem," you muttered, not being able to fight the smile tugging at your lips, the way your chest felt weirdly light at the small victory of making him happy, even just a little. you pretended to focus on your notebook to hide your expression, but from the corner of your eye, you could see jungwon sneak glances at you between sips, his expression unreadable but his ears still faintly pink.

the final straw came during a group study session in the cafeteria, where you'd somehow gotten roped into joining jungwon and a few of his classmates at their usual table. the noise and chaos of the crowded lunch period should've made it easier to blend in, but you felt hyper aware of every glance, every movement, especially with jungwon sitting so close his knee kept brushing against yours under the table.

one of the guys from your class—park jisung, who thought way too highly of himself and had never met a mirror he didn't like—leaned over and scoffed at jungwon's neatly pressed white button down, his nose wrinkling in exaggerated distaste.

"don't you ever wear anything that isn't so... boring?" jisung sneered, gesturing to his own aggressively trendy outfit like it was some kind of fashion revelation rather than looking like he'd fallen into a rack at hot topic. "i mean, come on, it's like you're trying to blend in with the walls."

before jungwon could even open his mouth to respond—not that he ever really bothered defending himself against stupid comments like this, you snapped, "at least he's hot," loud enough for the entire table to hear.

the moment the words left your mouth, your brain caught up with your traitorous tongue, and the table erupted into laughter and wolf whistles that made you want to crawl under the table and die. you buried your face in your hands with a strangled groan, your entire body burning with humiliation as jisung made exaggerated kissy faces at you both.

when you dared to peek through your fingers, jungwon was staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. his ears were bright red, his lips slightly parted in surprise, but there was something dangerously close to amusement in his eyes, something almost fond as he calmly turned back to his notes like you hadn't just publicly declared him attractive in front of half your classmates. but you didn't miss the way his fingers trembled slightly as he flipped a page, or how he kept biting his lower lip like he was fighting a smile.

you pressed your cold hands to your burning face, wondering how much longer you could keep this up before you actually died of embarrassment. but judging by the way jungwon kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking, the way his lips quirked up whenever you said something particularly ridiculous, the way he'd started sitting just a little bit closer during study sessions— it felt like you weren't the only one feeling this way. and that thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

you'd been stuck on the same problem for what felt like hours, the pencil between your teeth nearly chewed to splinters when suddenly—

"you're doing it again."

jungwon's voice made you jump, your knee slamming against the underside of the table hard enough to make your eyes water. his hand appeared in your line of vision, gently prying the mangled pencil from your mouth and replacing it with a fresh one and —oh god—your favourite mint gum.

"you’ll get lead poisoning at this rate," he said, his voice dry but his eyes oddly soft.

you unwrapped the gum with trembling fingers, the mint bursting sharp and sudden on your tongue. "how do you always know when i'm about to chew through another pencil?" you stammered, immediately cursing yourself for how breathy your voice sounded.

he shrugged, but you didn't miss the way his lips twitched at the corners. "you get this... look." he mimicked your frustrated pout, his face scrunching up in a way that should not have been as adorable as it was. "like the numbers personally offended you."

his finger tapped your notebook, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet library. "now focus. midterms are next week."

"i know, i know," you groaned, slumping so low in your seat you were practically sliding under the table. "i just can't get this integration method to click in my stupid brain." you immediately regretted calling your brain stupid in front of him, your cheeks burning as you stared resolutely at your hands.

jungwon sighed, and then scooted his chair closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over your paper. you could smell his delicious smelling shampoo once again and it took every ounce of willpower not to visibly sniff him like some kind of creep.

"okay, watch," he murmured, his neat handwriting filling the margins of your notebook as he walked you through the steps. when you still looked confused, he huffed a quiet laugh that sent shivers down your spine. "you're overcomplicating it. it's just—"

"like reverse differentiation!" you blurted out too loudly, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when the librarian glared at you(you had made a new enemy at this point).

the concept had finally clicked, and in your excitement you'd momentarily forgotten where you were. "sorry, sorry," you whispered, shrinking into yourself. "i just... get it now."

the smile jungwon gave you then was devastating—all crinkled eyes, so different from his usual composed expression. "there you go."

he reached into his bag and your heart stopped when his fingers brushed against yours as he slid a package of your favourite peach gummies toward you. "reward for the breakthrough."

you stared at the candy like it was some kind of alien artifact. "how do you even remember these are my favourite?" your voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched. "i mentioned that like one time months ago when we first—"

"i have a good memory," he interrupted, suddenly very focused on organising his already perfect notes. you didn't miss the faint pink tint to his ears though, and it made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest.

the following week found you drowning in midterm stress, your forehead pressed against the cool library table as you groaned dramatically. you didn't even hear jungwon approach until a warm cup of coffee was set down right next to your face—caramel latte with extra whipped cream, exactly how you always ordered it.

you sat up so fast you nearly headbutted him. "jungwon! i didn't— when did you—"

"thought you might need this," he said casually, taking the seat across from you like he hadn't just materialised out of your wildest dreams holding your favourite drink. his own black coffee looked bitter and depressing in comparison.

you wrapped your hands around the warm cup, frowning. "but the coffee shop is all the way across campus. don't you have class in like..." you checked your phone, "ten minutes?"

jungwon glanced at his watch with exaggerated seriousness. "eight actually. plenty of time." he took a sip of his black coffee before pulling out his notes, and you tried very hard not to stare at his throat as he swallowed.

the session passed in its usual blur of numbers and formulas, but when you packed up to leave, jungwon didn't immediately bolt like he normally did. instead, he slowly, almost deliberately gathered his things, waiting until you'd zipped your backpack before asking, "how was your weekend?"

you froze, your fingers slipping on the zipper. jungwon didn't do small talk. jungwon especially didn't do small talk with you.

"uh, good?" you squeaked, mentally cursing yourself. "i finally tried that new bubble tea place near the dorms."

"the one with the peach oolong you've been talking about?" he asked, shouldering his bag with infuriating grace.

your mouth fell open. "you remember that?"

he shrugged, but his ears were definitely pinker than they'd been a minute ago. "you mentioned it a few times. was it good?"

"yeah! it was amazing. you should—" you cut yourself off before you could blurt out 'you should go with me sometime,' nearly biting your tongue in the process. that would be too much, right? way too forward? he was just being nice because he was your tutor, not because he actually wanted to—

"maybe i will," he said quietly, interrupting your mental spiral. then, after a beat too long where you both just stood there awkwardly, he added, "see you wednesday," before walking away, leaving you standing there with your half finished coffee and a heart that felt like it might beat out of your chest.

wednesday's session ended with an even bigger surprise. as you were shoving your notebooks into your bag, jungwon suddenly said, "i was near that tea place earlier." he reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar cup with the café's logo. "got you the peach one. you said it was good, right?"

you took the drink with hands that definitely weren't shaking (they were), the condensation cool against your suddenly burning fingers. "you went all the way there?" your voice came out embarrassingly breathless. "that's like twenty minutes from your apartment."

jungwon shrugged, suddenly very interested in zipping up his pencil case with unnecessary focus. "i had time."

the drink was perfect—just the right amount of sweetness, with real peach pieces at the bottom that you may or may not have saved to eat last like some kind of lovesick weirdo. you tried not to read too much into the gesture, but when you got home, you carefully washed the cup and placed it on your shelf like some kind of sacred artifact, tracing the logo with your finger as you tried (and failed) not to smile like an idiot.

the next day, when you stopped by jungwon's apartment to return a notebook you'd borrowed (and definitely not because you wanted to see him again so soon), you spotted a familiar cup in his recycling bin—the same café's logo, but the peach oolong flavour instead of his usual black coffee. your heart did something complicated and painful in your chest.

he followed your gaze and immediately flushed, quickly kicking the bin under his desk with his foot. "it's not— i was just—"

"curious about the peach?" you finished for him, immediately wanting to die because why did that sound so suggestive? your face burned as you stared at the floor like it held the secrets of the universe.

jungwon ran a hand through his hair, looking more flustered than you'd ever seen him. "yeah," he admitted quietly. "something like that."

in that moment, with his ears turning pink and his usually perfect hair mussed from nervous fingers, you realised something terrifying and wonderful all at once —maybe you weren't the only one falling here. and when jungwon shyly met your eyes, the soft, uncertain smile on his lips told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

your friends, of course, noticed the whole ordeal before you did. one of them cornered you after class a few days later, grinning like the devil as they leaned against your locker.

“so… how’s your math husband?” she asked, their voice dripping with faux innocence.

you threatened violence, your face burning as you shoved her away, but the way your blush crept down your neck betrayed you completely. “we’re literally just studying,” you muttered, focusing very hard on stuffing your books into your bag so you wouldn’t have to meet their knowing gaze.

“you called him sir,” she reminded you, her grin widening. “in the first session. and don’t think i haven’t seen the way you look at him when he explains things—”

you were mid-way through plotting your revenge when your phone buzzed in your pocket. you yanked it out, ready to ignore whatever notification had popped up, but then you saw jungwon’s name on the screen and nearly dropped the damn thing.

“got snacks for our next session,” the message read. “hope your favourite gummy bears still apply as brain food :)”

you stared at your phone for five whole minutes, your friend’s cackling laughter fading into the background as you realised— he remembered once again. he remembered your favourite gummy bears, the ones you’d mentioned exactly once in passing months ago when you’d been complaining about the vending machine always being out of them.

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting at least seven different responses before you finally settled on a simple “they do,” followed by a heart that you immediately regretted but couldn’t bring yourself to unsend.

when he replied with just a thumbs up emoji, you buried your face in your hands and groaned, your friend’s laughter ringing in your ears as she patted your shoulder with far too much sympathy.

you were so, so screwed.

you slumped in the school’s auditorium’s chair, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. academic awards assemblies were always painfully dull, and you'd only shown up because attendance was mandatory.

when the principal started listing names for "most improved in mathematics," you zoned out entirely—until you heard your own name echo through the speakers.

your breath caught in your throat. that couldn't be right. you turned to your friend with wide eyes, only for her to shove you out of your seat with an excited squeal. "that's you, dumbass! go!"

your legs moved on autopilot as you shuffled toward the stage, nearly tripping on the steps in your haste. the principal's handshake was firm as he handed you the certificate, his booming voice saying something about "remarkable progress" that you barely registered over the blood rushing in your ears.

as you descended the stage, your eyes instinctively scanned the crowd—and there he was. jungwon sat halfway back, not whooping or whistling like some of your classmates, but smiling that small, private smile you'd come to recognise as his version of beaming. his hands came together in steady, measured applause, but the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made your stomach flip violently.

"i didn't even think they tracked that stuff," you mumbled to your friend when you returned to your seat, your face burning.

"oh please," she snorted, elbowing you. "we all know who's really responsible for this glow up."

later, when you opened your math binder at home, a yellow sticky note fluttered out. in jungwon's annoyingly perfect handwriting, it read:

proud of you! you did this. —j

your fingers trembled as you traced the letters. it shouldn't have meant so much —it was just a note, just a few words, but something about seeing his pride in writing, knowing he'd taken the time to leave this for you, made your chest ache.

before you could overthink it, you grabbed your phone and typed out a message: "hey so. i got this award today. maybe we should celebrate? my place after school tomorrow?"

the three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared, then appeared again. finally: "what did you have in mind?"

"idk. snacks. maybe a movie. unless you have better plans with your other students you've dramatically improved?" you added the teasing text before you could chicken out.

his reply came faster this time: "my schedule's miraculously clear. see you at 4."

when jungwon arrived the next day, he looked unfairly good in just a simple white t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy from the wind. he held up a plastic bag with your favourite convenience store snacks. "brain food," he said, that small smile playing at his lips.

"you're such a nerd," you muttered, taking the bag and trying to ignore how your fingers brushed against his.

the first hour passed comfortably enough—junk food spread across your coffee table, some indie movie neither of you were really watching playing in the background. jungwon sat cross-legged on your floor, flipping through your math notes with that focused expression you knew so well.

"you missed a step here," he murmured, pointing to a problem. when you didn't respond, he glanced up to find you staring. "what?"

"nothing," you said quickly, looking away. then, before you could stop yourself: "do you actually think i was pretending to like you?"

jungwon's pencil froze mid-correction. he set it down carefully, his movements deliberately slow. "i wasn't sure what to think," he admitted after a beat. "you're kind of... a mess."

"thanks," you deadpanned, your voice cracking slightly.

"i didn't say it was a bad thing." his fingers tapped an absent rhythm against your notebook. "you're just... inconsistent. one minute you're calling me 'sir' and drawing hearts in your notes, the next you're pretending you don't know me in the hallway."

you swallowed hard. "that's because i panic! you're... you. and i'm..." you gestured vaguely at yourself.

jungwon's lips quirked. "my favourite mess?"

"shut up," you groaned, covering your face with your hands. when you peeked through your fingers, he was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite place—something warm and unbearably fond.

"for the record," he said quietly, "i bought that peach tea for you because i wanted to see you smile. i remembered your favourite gummies because i like the way your eyes light up when you eat them. i kept tutoring you long after you actually needed help because..." he trailed off, his ears turning pink.

your breath caught. "because?"

"because i'm an idiot," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

something bold and reckless surged in your chest. before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and kissed him. it was clumsy at first—you missed slightly, your nose bumping against his cheek before you corrected course. but then his hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently along your jawline, and everything clicked into place.

when you pulled back, breathless, jungwon didn't go far, his forehead resting against yours. "was that your way of saying you like me too?" you whispered.

he huffed a quiet laugh. "i left you a note in your binder. i bought you snacks. i—"

you cut him off with another kiss, this one softer, sweeter. "say it," you murmured against his lips.

jungwon pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "i like you. a lot. even when you're a mess. especially when you're a mess."

"good," you said, your voice wobbling slightly. "because i'm probably not going to stop being a mess anytime soon."

"i'd be disappointed if you did," he said, and when he kissed you this time, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

the semester ended much like it began—with you and jungwon in the library, textbooks spread across your usual table by the window. but this time, instead of sitting stiffly across from each other, his arm was slung casually over the back of your chair, his fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as you struggled through one last practise problem before finals.

"you're overthinking it," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned closer to look at your work. his free hand came up to point at a line halfway down the page, his chest pressing lightly against your shoulder. "see here? you did the hard part right, then second guessed yourself."

you huffed, "maybe i just like when you correct me."

jungwon snorted, but you didn't miss the way his ears turned pink. "you're impossible."

"you love me," you shot back automatically, then froze, your pencil slipping from your fingers. you hadn't meant to say that—not yet, maybe not ever—but the words had tumbled out before you could stop them.

for a terrifying second, jungwon was completely still behind you. then his hand left your hair to gently turn your chin toward him, his expression unbearably soft. "yeah," he said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world. "i do."

your breath caught in your throat. you'd imagined this moment a hundred times, but none of your daydreams had prepared you for the quiet certainty in his voice, the way his thumb brushed gently over your cheekbone like you were something precious.

"even though i still don't understand half this math stuff?" you whispered, because you had to ruin the moment, had to give him an out just in case.

jungwon's lips quirked. "especially because you don't understand it. gives me an excuse to keep you around." he leaned in, his nose bumping playfully against yours. "and because you're stubborn. and messy. and you still sometimes call me 'sir' when you're flustered."

you groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "i thought we agreed never to talk about that again."

"we agreed no such thing," he laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. his arms came around you properly then, pulling you back against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "but if it makes you feel better, i've loved that about you since the beginning."

"you're such a sap," you muttered into his shirt, but you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

later, when you walked out of your last final with jungwon waiting by the doors, his hand found yours without hesitation, his fingers lacing through yours like they belonged there. the sun was shining, your friends were whooping obnoxiously from across the quad, and for once—for once—you didn't overthink it. you just squeezed his hand back, leaned into his side, and let yourself be happy.

"so," he said as you walked toward the parking lot, his voice light but his grip on your hand just a little too tight, like he was afraid you might disappear. "does this mean i'm officially retired as your tutor?"

you bumped your shoulder against his, grinning up at him. "not a chance. i hear calculus is even harder."

jungwon groaned, but he was smiling as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple as the late afternoon sun painted everything gold. "lucky me."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#ady 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀...👩🏻‍💻.ᐟ #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon fics #jungwon oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen fluff #jungwon fluff

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lolitalovess · 4 months ago

Text

loser vi who needs you as motivation when she's studying for her finals!!

warnings: fingering, praise, reader is very kind, reader is the best supportive gf, vi is a loser, vi is lowk dumb in this i'm so sorry, i think that's it

vi was laying on her side, her eyes boring into the bright screen of her laptop while she messily wrote seemingly important words and sentences into her book, her hand beginning to cramp from the repeated motions. you were laying behind her, propped up on your elbow with her ass tucked against your lower abdomen. you could see past her shoulder enough to see what she was reading and writing about, occasionally moving forward to kiss the reddish pink hair on the top of her head every time you notice her write something important down.

you know your girlfriend is smart, in many aspects you wouldn't expect. she's good at maths and writes phenomenal essays for english- a very interpersonally and emotionally intelligent person in ways you've never been able to find within someone else.

but she's never been good at foreign language in any aspect whatsoever.

"baby, 's too much." she whines, her back arching away from your torso when you curl your fingers inside her. her boxers were discarded awhile ago, since she opened her laptop and told you that it was too hard for her to remember all of the syllabus in hiragana (me too). you don't even know why she chose this as one of her electives, especially when you tried to talk her out of it at the beginning of the year. you're starting to think she only chose it for this.

"read back through your notes. i watched you write it down earlier." you murmur into her soft hair, watching as she dropped her pen onto her mattress to begin flipping through the past her pages of her book at just the same speed of someone who's slightly panicked, bored, and wants an orgasm.

your fingers are pumping in and out of her at a relatively slow pace, one that you knew had her as equally frustrated with her work. "there you go," you coo, moving your hand away from your face to brush some of her hair away from the crown of her head to kiss it, said hand reaching to pick up her discarded pen to underline what she was looking for in the middle of the page, the letters that just looked like small drawings to her.

the repeated sound of her pussy squelching like a whore from your fingers has never paused for one second on the past thirty minutes, and it's the same with her moans. her inner thighs and your shorts are coated with her cum and arousal from when she was doing good.

"uh," she started, her voice slightly hoarse but still whiny in a way that was so sexy you're sure you'd never tire of. "hiragana is a simplified form of kanji along with katakana. there are forty six curvy characters, contrary to the sharp corners katakana has." eighth grade level definition, but it was good enough. "it's the most commonly used and spoken alphabet used in japan." she added, resulting with your fingers pumping in and out of her at a much more rapid pace than before, earning a soft whimper and moan slipping past her lips.

"can i-" she began, only for you to cut her off. "you can." and from your permission, she's cumming around your fingers with a loud moan, practically burying her face into her pillow with her heart shaped lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as you finger fuck her though it, her crooked glasses falling onto the mattress.

"that's my good girl."

#violet arcane #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane #vi #vi arcane x reader #arcane vi x you #violet x reader #piltover's finest #loser vi #vi is so hot #sub vi #japanese is my and hers biggest enemy #♡

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bucketbueckers · 1 month ago

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ONLY MINE

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

content: filth, azzi and reader are just down bad asf there's no real top just vibes, nipple play, ab riding, oral, teasing, freaked out as fuck, academic validation as aftercare, kinda short and not proofread 😕 i apologize to paige bueckers and paige bueckers only

wc: 5.3k

synopsis: After bombing your most recent thermodynamics quiz, you’ve been locked in and busy on practice sets and worksheets in preparation for the next one. Maybe a little too busy, in fact, because your girlfriend is feeling needy and neglected, and, well, who are you to deny her any longer?

notes: i am not an engineer. yes i spent 10 minutes scrolling through sample thermodynamics practice sets to find a word problem that appears once (1 time) in this fic. im not just committed to the bit. i am married to it. yaps aside, i am trying my hardest to be responsible and stay on top of my classes LMAO 😭 butttttt i hope you like this ⬇️ anon (and good luck on your finals goat)!! im working on time management so i definitely will not be writing as much as i used to but i am still chronically online. feel free to send in an anon to say hello but as always i hope y'all like this one and happy pazzi hard launch day to those who celebrate 🫶

Saturated liquid water enters an orifice at a pressure of 100 psia and is throttled to a lower pressure of 20 psia. Determine the outlet temperature (F) and the specific entropy difference (Btu/lbm-R) between the outlet and the initial status. Assume steady state, steady flow, negligible heat transfer, and negligible changes in kinetic and potential energy.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hopelessly lost.

The word problem stares unblinkingly at you. You’ve been meticulously working through this problem set for the past five hours, only pausing to use the restroom, refill your water bottle (because apparently you hydrate really well when you don’t know what the fuck’s going on), and grab a healthy, energizing snack (a handful of Starburst), but it’s starting to feel like you’ve been staring at this worksheet for years.

You never really struggled this much with a class. Math, physics, chemistry, you name it – there was always a pattern that you were good at isolating and exploiting. It made solving problems a lot easier, but thermodynamics? Figuring it out was taking a lot out of you. To make matters worse, nothing seems to help, either. Not even your go-to tutors on YouTube who could explain quantum physics to a five year old with little difficulty.

At this point, you’re convinced it’s just some weird energy in the universe that has severed the connections between your brain cells. This couldn’t possibly be your fault. You bombed your thermodynamics quiz on Wednesday, which was strange because you’d walked into the lecture hall with the confidence of a man who was sure he knew where the clit was. Maybe you were a little tense – who wouldn’t be? You were juggling four classes, a TA position for a calculus course, and research into reaction engineering.

A heavy workload never deterred you, though. Not to the point of failing a quiz you thought you’d pass with flying colors. And nothing else had really changed for you either. Your routine was basically the same, you studied for the same amount of time, exercised and ate properly. Your girlfriend, Azzi, did have a string of away games that kept her out of Storrs for about a week and a half, but saying she’s the reason for your poor performance is kind of ridiculous, even if you do sleep better when it’s next to her or because she always listens to you ramble even if she has no idea what you’re talking about.

Now, Azzi is back, and she doesn’t have another away game for about two weeks. That’s a fact that would otherwise excite you, but you’re just trying to pass your classes. Your scholarship relies on your GPA, and without your scholarship, you might as well kiss UConn goodbye. You and Azzi were always intentional about understanding each other’s schedules. Basketball was demanding, possibly more demanding than engineering considering travel and recovery, so the both of you tried to maximize the amount of time you were able to spend together, even if it just consisted of Azzi quietly watching film next to you while you worked through your homework.

After burying your head in your hands, rubbing your temples, and reminding yourself of how sexy future you would look sitting courtside at one of Azzi’s WNBA games, chatting with the other WAGs like, “Oh, Dr. Fudd? Yes, that’s me,” you reach for your iPad with a deep sigh, rereading the word problem once more. Then you write down what you know. P₁ = 100 psia. P₂ = 20 psia.

Your hand stalls. You check the formula sheet, the swirl of letters and deltas and constants making your head ache. You blink again.

Your pen falls onto the couch cushion next to you as you heave another shuddering sigh, feeling like you’re about to crash out. You can’t fathom why this is so difficult for you.

Azzi’s voice is sudden, soft – it would otherwise startle you if you weren’t ready to be swallowed up by the ground and never return to earth. “I think you need a break,” she says, her voice coming from somewhere behind you, and you can hear the gentle footfalls of her sock-clad feet as she makes her way closer to you. Her hands find your shoulders, kneading gently, and you sigh again – this time in relief – as you melt into the couch.

“Can’t,” you mutter, grunting when her thumb catches on one of the knots. “I’ve already taken like…a million just from zoning out and losing my mind. Wasted enough time.”

You don’t have to see her face to visualize the amused, if not slightly concerned smile gracing her lips. “Are you not also wasting time by forcing yourself to work when it’s getting you nowhere?” she murmurs, her lips closer to your ear now. For that, you truly have no rebuttal, and she presses a lingering kiss to the edge of your jaw. Humming to yourself, you tilt your head, baring your throat, and her lips trace a deliberate path down the curve of your neck.

Her hands leave your shoulders, smoothing down your chest, and you intertwine your fingers together, getting lost in the heady scent of her perfume. You’d missed her – you really did. You and Azzi have been together long enough that you’re used to her having to travel a lot, but sometimes, it takes a little bit longer for your body to catch up and get the memo, too.

“Take a break,” Azzi whispers, her tone pleading, edged with a sort of neediness that makes you want to give in. You almost do – the warmth of her lips against your skin and the weight of her hands over your chest turning your brain into mush. “Let me take care of you. You’ve been so busy lately. You’re wearing yourself out.”

The first part of her statement has you ready to turn off your laptop and give Azzi whatever she wants from you. But the second? All it does is remind you about the quiz you’d just failed, the fact you have another quiz in less than a week, and how you’re not any closer to understanding the material. It sobers you instantly.

“Later,” you whisper, feeling a little guilty. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with Azzi – God, it’s all you’ve wanted to do since she got back to Storrs, but you knew you’d just fall into shitty time management problems if you didn’t get your work done.

“Babe,” Azzi complains, her tone exasperated and needy all at once. Her grip on you tightens ever so slightly, leaning fully against the couch to press her cheek to your temple. You fall back into her, your eyes slipping shut despite yourself.

“Sorry, Az,” you say apologetically, turning your head slightly to kiss the closest patch of skin you can reach, which happens to be the hinge of her jaw. She sighs softly, then brushes her lips across your forehead before releasing you. You miss the contact immediately but she makes her way to the front of the couch and sits down on the cushion next to you. Intertwining your fingers to get her attention, you squeeze her hand gently. She glances over, doe eyes wide, simmering with a heat and want that makes your stomach flip. “Let me finish this problem, then I’m yours. I promise.”

She crosses one leg over her knee, a petulant expression on her face as she sinks into the cushions. “Better be worth it, Dr. Fudd,” she grumbles, which makes you smile a little. You plant a chaste, innocent kiss on her lips, smirking when she chases after you. You release her, reaching for your pen and your iPad again, but you swear you hear her muttering under her breath, “Cockblocked by an engineering assignment. This is what I get for dating a smart person.”

Her indignance and impatience amuses you, which just motivates you to finish this problem as quickly as you can. You start over again, rereading the problem and isolating the facts that you know. You check your formula sheet again, struggling to find the one you need given what you have and what variable you want to solve for. All the while, you can feel Azzi’s gaze on you, dark and beseeching. It honestly makes it difficult to focus – knowing you have your very needy girlfriend sitting on the couch next to you and begging for one ounce of attention, but you know she’ll thank you later when you’re a super rich engineer and you build her a custom library in the house you’ll share together.

(Granted, she’ll be a super rich baller, so she wouldn’t exactly be hurting financially without you and she could get the library, but as long as you were around, you were committed to ensuring that Azzi wouldn’t have to lift a finger.)

Azzi allows you to struggle in peace. You make zero progress, just as she predicted. You read a few pages in your textbook. You watch a YouTube video on the process and still, you get nowhere. Already feeling a little frustrated, you try another approach.

But then Azzi’s palm finds your thigh. It breaks your focus immediately – not like it wasn’t already hanging by a thin thread – and you glance over at her, one brow raising in amusement. She doesn’t look the least bit remorseful about distracting you; in fact, she’s wearing a smug little smile that breaks down all of your defenses. “You promised, Az,” you remind her.

“You promised, too,” she declares. The confusion must be clear on your face because she explains, “Girlfriend code. You have a duty to give me attention.”

“Oh, do I?” you echo, biting your lip to stifle a smile.

Azzi’s dead serious, though. Her eyes meet yours, temptation laced in her pupils, a pout tugging at her lips. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to stand your ground against that, but you have to pretend to have some sort of academic responsibility.

“You do,” she confirms. “Agreed to it when you said you loved me, in fact.”

“I wasn’t aware that was in the fine print,” you respond, tangling your fingers with hers before she has the chance to inch her palm further up your thigh.

Azzi narrows her eyes at you. “Well, it is,” she insists. “And I want you.”

“Is that what this is about?” you murmur teasingly. “My girl needs me?”

Azzi nods, her expression a devastating mix of hopeful and needy, and it makes you ache. But you glance down at your iPad, at the word problem staring back at you — unsolved — and you hate yourself for what you do next.

You kiss her again, your free hand reaching to cup her jaw, and she melts into you instantly. You draw back just before it grows too intense, murmuring, “After this problem.” You’re sure that Azzi almost fucking growls, her brows drawing together tightly. In any other situation, you’d find it endearing, but you can’t help but feel guilty. You have work to do, and you know that Azzi wouldn’t let you rest until the sun is in the sky again. “Sorry, baby.”

But Azzi is out of rationale — and patience. She leans away from you long enough to shut the lid of your laptop on the coffee table, then she yanks your iPad out of your hands. It lands somewhere on the far end of the couch as your pen clatters harmlessly onto the floor, rolling somewhere out of view, and you hardly have the time to react before Azzi straddles you in one quick motion. Her lips are on yours immediately. You gasp, hands reaching out to grip her hips, and she swallows the moan that tumbles from your mouth.

Her hands are around your neck, drawing you in closer to her, yours roaming across her sculpted thighs, tightening in the loose fabric of her shorts. They ride up on her legs the more she presses against you and you take advantage of the miles upon miles of tanned skin laid before you. It makes you keen, sighing into her mouth, and Azzi slips her tongue inside, brushing against yours.

It’s all heat from there — Azzi’s hips roll against yours in a slow, methodical grind, her fingers trailing down your chest to tangle in the hem of your shirt. She breaks away from your mouth, lips swollen, spit-slick and urgent as she mutters, “Off, please.”

You don’t have the words to deny her, not that you would in the first place. Not when you can feel the heat of her core against your thigh, the dampness that’s seeped through her underwear and shorts all at once. Pulling away from her, you raise your arms, allowing her to pull your shirt off, intent on getting your hands back on her, but Azzi stops you with a palm to your chest — your bare chest, having neglected a bra for comfort that morning.

Her eyes are glazed over, pupils dark and wanting. The way she stares shamelessly would make you feel insecure and vulnerable if you weren’t able to read the desire in her features, the way her jaw goes slack at the sight of you. It’s not new — Azzi has seen you in various states of undress over the course of your relationship. A sheer bikini on cruises, in nothing but her jersey and a flimsy pair of her boxers, or as naked as the day you were born. It doesn’t matter how many times Azzi has sat upon your lap with your breasts cupped in her hands like she’s holding the world in her palms – she thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and if you had any sensibility, you’d probably ask, “Has she seen herself?”

Not wanting to be alone in your nakedness, you reach for the hem of Azzi’s shirt, glancing up at her through your lashes for permission. She nods quickly and you don’t waste anymore time before pulling the dark blue shirt off of her, your own jaw going slack as you take her in. She’s all muscles and tanned skin, firm sinew in most places yet soft in others. You want to get your hands on her immediately, so you do – pressing heatedly against her stomach, grazing her belly piercing and the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against you like you can’t get enough of her skin against yours.

She reaches for your wrists to pull your hands off of her body. You make a noise of protest, but she silences you with a deep kiss, insistent and hungry as she shifts to the side, tugging you down on top of her now as she positions herself against the pillows and the armrest at the end of the couch. The change has your head spinning, especially when Azzi pushes her knee between your legs, the muscle of her thigh dragging against your clit in a way that’s almost devastating.

Your entire body is pulsing, suddenly aware of the need building in your body. It feels like it’s taken root in your bones. Like all you’ve needed these past few weeks were Azzi, not anything else. And judging by the way her fingers slip under the waistband of your sweatpants, pressing firm against your skin and tugging the restricting material down? Azzi is more than willing to give herself to you – in whatever way you need it.

You try to grind down onto Azzi’s thigh, searching for the contact, but she takes your hips in your hands, perching you precariously over her body, only inches away from what you need. You break away from her lips long enough to brush your mouth across her jaw, finding her ear to beg, “Please, Az, need it.”

A smirk curls her lips, slow and smug. The tables are turned now – she’d spent so long asking for you to put your assignment down, and now you’re the one pleading for her to touch you. Azzi is a competitor by nature. You may never truly understand how much she enjoys watching you break beneath her.

“Where have I heard that one before?” she murmurs, dragging heated kisses across your chest, lips wrapping around a nipple as you open your mouth. Your next words get caught in your throat, a moan taking its place, and you curl a hand around Azzi’s neck, pulling her closer to you.

“‘M sorry, baby,” you gasp in between stuttered breaths, your hips twitching when she bites gently at your bud. Azzi hums against you, sending vibrations up your spine as your body arches into her mouth and her wandering hands. Remembering where you are, you allow your hands to drop from Azzi’s neck down to her waist, fingers hooking into the band of her shorts. “Lemme make it up to you,” you plead, trembling with need. You want so badly to pull these shorts off of her, but she hasn’t given you the all clear yet. You may be the one on top and the one who wants to please her, but if she wasn’t going to allow you, there was little you could do.

“I wonder if I could make you come like this,” Azzi mumbles instead, releasing your nipple with a wet pop, and one of her hands reaches up to rub the spit across the bud while her lips trail to the other one, biting gently to make you shudder. Your breath catches, hips still hovering overs hers. “Dripping all over me while I take my time. Do you think I could?”

“Fuck,” you whimper, arching into her hands again, moaning when she pinches you with the right amount of pressure to send white hot desire to your core. Your head falls onto her shoulder, fingers abandoning her waistband to brace yourself against the couch cushion for stability. “Whatever you want, Az, just make me come – please.”

It wouldn’t take much. You’re already worked up, both from Azzi’s efforts and the stress of the week melting away into something softer. You hadn’t realized how much you truly needed this – the break away from your homework to breathe and just be. But you feel Azzi’s smile growing against your skin, her tongue poking out from her lips to circle your nipple, before she whispers, “Another time, maybe,” and she pulls you onto her bare stomach.

The first press feels like fire. It punches a gasp out of you, pleasure and relief coursing through your veins in simultaneous streams. Azzi’s abs are firm, inviting, and you rut against them desperately, needing to get off. Your aching clit catches against the piercing on her navel and a wrecked moan spills from your lips. Azzi’s muscles contract, providing you with a harsher slide, and your eyes all but roll into the back of your head when she carefully bites down on your nipple, her fingers rolling the other.

The free hand not occupied with your chest curls around your waist, helping pull you down against her. Eventually, Azzi begins to control your pace as you’re struggling to keep yourself up, and the sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. You’re impossibly wet, sliding against Azzi’s stomach with little resistance, angling your hips to get the best friction against your clit. You wrap your arms around her neck, tears pooling in your eyes because it feels so good, and holding on is all you can do, moaning breathlessly into her ear.

Azzi pulls away from your chest with a wet noise, her lips swollen and slick, eyes glazed over with want. It makes you breathless for an entirely different reason now. You’re the only person who gets to see Azzi like this, needy and determined to make you fall apart. You were the first, but to know that you’re also the last? You will your hips into a firmer grind, the slight possessiveness making your head spin.

But then she releases you, something dark, smug, but also reverent clouding her expression. “Take it,” she murmurs, leaning back against the armrest slightly. She’s no longer holding you up by the hips, but her hand lingers at your chest, tweaking and pulling your bud until it juts out firmly, wet with her spit. “You wanted this so bad? Show me. Take it.”

Groaning, you tighten your grip on her shoulders, pressing yourself further against her body for stability as you rock into her. Her face is screwed up, sweat beading at her temples, and you can’t be sure if it’s from the heat of the room or from the sheer determination of clenching her abs. Either way, you can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to hers, swallowing her indulgent moan as you chase your high.

Her piercing catches against your clit again, causing you to lose your rhythm momentarily. Azzi bites your lip once in warning as she orders, “Faster.” Your thighs and core burns from the exertion, but the desire coursing through your veins motivates you. When your pace returns to her liking, she rewards you with a blinding smile and a “So good for me, baby. You wanna come?”

You nod shakily against her, forehead pressing into hers, and she kisses you once more – slow, lingering, filthy like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste when you’re desperate for her. Azzi takes your hips in her hands again and she aids in your rhythm, pulling you onto her harshly, drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm until a cry rips from your throat. “So close, Az,” you whine, meeting her eyes. They’re more black than brown, her pupils blown wide, and the sheer need reflected there makes you weak. “Please, please, please, Azzi.”

“Let go,” she murmurs, her voice dangerously sweet compared to the way she’s dragging you across her stomach. “Take what you need. Gonna give it to you, you know that.”

And that’s all you need. You rut against her once more, twice, your jaw dropping with pleasure, body tingling as you fall apart over her. You press your lips to hers to silence your cries and she swallows each and every whimpered sound like it energizes her. She’s still guiding you, her movements slowing now, letting you ride out the aftershocks as you come back down to earth. You’re a little boneless, your forehead pressing to her clavicle, and she ghosts a kiss across your temple as she rubs your back soothingly.

Clearly, Azzi can’t seem to help herself, because she presses a smile to the crown of your head as she jokingly mutters, “So much better than homework, right?”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and you try to not think too hard about the fact that your throat feels scratchy and rough. “Much better,” you agree, feeling the weightlessness and ease seep into your bones, something deliciously heavy and comforting that makes you feel refreshed. New. “You’re so needy. Couldn’t wait twenty minutes.”

Azzi gasps indignantly. “I’ve waited like, two weeks!” she exclaims, nudging you halfheartedly. “A girl has needs, you know.” She says this last part with a snooty raise of her nose, which makes you shake your head, giggling again as you press a chaste, innocent kiss to her lips. She chases after you when you pull away, but the distance makes her eyes narrow, brows pulling together like she’s just realized something. “You couldn’t wait either. It was all ‘please, Azzi,’ this, ‘make me come, Azzi,’ that. You’re dirty.”

That makes you lean away from her, disbelief in your features. “Me?” you echo, aghast, fully aware that the both of you are arguing like toddlers at this point. “You’re dirty. You made me ride your abs–” Azzi raises a challenging brow which has you backtracking immediately. “Okay, I don’t know about made me. That was really hot, by the way.” You punctuate your point with another kiss, one that lasts not nearly long enough so you can get back to the point you were trying to make. “Also, you should probably disinfect your piercing.” Azzi hums, arms curling around your waist, and she ghosts her lips across your collarbone as you continue to defend yourself. “Either way, you’re still dirty.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything. She glances at you with an amused grin, then glances down at her stomach, where she glistens from a mixture of your slick and her sweat. Mostly your arousal, though. A flush creeps up your neck at the sight. You hadn’t registered how soaked she was. Having made her point, she swipes her finger through the mess, raising it to the light as if inspecting it. “You did this and I’m the dirty one?”

“Yes,” you deadpan, but the corners of your lips quirk up with amusement. Her smile softens, but morphs into one of confusion when you slide down her body, knees pressing into the cushions in between her legs. “Let me make it up to you?” you offer, palming her thighs, fingers slipping under the waistband of her shorts once more. You can tell that her breathing has picked up, her mood shifting as easily as you crawled down.

“Yes, please,” she affirms, lifting her hips to help you pull her shorts and boxers down in one quick motion. You groan to yourself when her cunt is revealed to you – she’s soaked, her arousal having seeped into the cotton of her boxers, and you press a quick kiss to the inside of her thigh. “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never,” you lie, and then tease her anyways. You avoid her cunt completely, opting to lick a thick stripe across her stomach, gathering the slick pooled there on your tongue.

It makes her hips jump up, her voice pitched and a little breathless with shock as she mutters, “Shit, baby…” You smile to yourself, glancing up at her through your lashes, taking in her wrecked expression and the way her pupils are blown wide. Azzi is gripping onto the couch cushion like she’s teetering on the edge of falling apart already.

You don’t stop until her stomach is clean. Before you can settle between her thighs again, she grabs you by the shoulders, hauling you up until she can kiss you again. Azzi deepens the kiss immediately, her tongue searching for yours, for the taste of you, and the moans greedily as you squeeze her hips.

When she breaks away for air, her chest is heaving, and she looks ruined, ready for you to give her what she’s been craving for two weeks. You plant a farewell kiss at the edge of her jaw before trailing your lips down her body, sucking hickeys into her skin, soothing each one with your tongue.

Finally, you reach her cunt, and the sight of her spread out before you makes your mouth water. She tangles her fingers through your hair, guiding you closer, and you don’t make her wait any longer before you kiss her clit gently, smiling when her hips buck. Your tongue swipes through her soaked folds, her body shuddering when you moan indulgently into her, and you wrap your arms around her thighs to keep her stabilized.

You fuck her like you’re starved – which you may as well be. Your nose brushes against her sensitive clit with every motion you make, making her cry out, her hand pushing you to the spot she likes as if you don’t know her body like the back of your hand. Still, you listen to the direction, allowing her to pull your head towards her clit. You suck it into your mouth, cheeks hollowing from the pressure, rubbing the broad side of your tongue over it when she moans softly.

Her thighs enclose around your head, the pleasure causing her hips to buck wildly, and this? You could die here, in between her legs, and you wouldn’t even be able to think of a better way to go out. Azzi’s cries are like music to your ears, her taste like nectar.

When her fingers tighten in your hair, her hips beginning to gyrate in search of her high, you press a little further into her, allowing her to grind against your tongue. Your hands rub soothing patterns against her abdomen, eyes slipping shut at the sound of her moans, and before you know it, she’s whining, “Close, baby.”

You take her free hand in yours, squeezing gently as her body trembles, and she holds onto you as she comes, her body melting into the couch cushions as you work her slowly, helping her come back down. You know Azzi gets oversensitive fast, so you listen for her cues, letting up on her when it becomes too much. Drawing back, you plant one last kiss to her thigh, her navel, her collarbone, then to her lips, where you feel her smile grow against you.

You smooth out her hair by her forehead where a few of the strands have escaped from the tie. Her eyes blink open, her gaze impossibly tender, her smile soft. It makes you fall a little bit further in love with her, which is probably a feat in and of itself. “Okay?” you whisper.

She turns her head to kiss your wrist. “Okay,” she confirms, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you flush against her. Then, in a quieter tone of voice, she confesses, “Missed you.”

You kiss her cheek, tucking your head into the crook of her neck. “Missed you too, Az,” you respond. “Never travel for two weeks ever again.”

She laughs gently, her nails skirting across your skin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The both of you fall into a calm silence until you break it. “I’m sorry I neglected you,” you say genuinely, feeling a little remorseful. “I just wanted to get my work done, but I think I got a little too obsessive about it. You were right to say I wasn’t getting anywhere with it.”

“You know I understand your schedule,” Azzi says softly. “You have a lot to do. I just needed you.” She doesn’t say much else – and she doesn’t need to. That’s just the truth.

You smile a little as you kiss her jaw. “I know,” you murmur. “I’ll do better.”

She tightens her arms around you. “Good. You can start by helping me into the bathtub and ordering takeout.”

That makes you laugh, your nose brushing against her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.” The room goes quiet again, nothing but the gentle hum of the AC and your breathing filling the space. The drag of Azzi’s fingers against your skin lulls you into a sense of peace, the pressure alleviating from your shoulders, and –

You pause. Your eyes blink open, your gaze falling onto your iPad. Pressure?

Saturated liquid water enters an orifice at a pressure of 100 psia and is throttled to a lower pressure of 20 psia–

You close your eyes in disbelief, the gears in your brain turning at rapid speed. You’re so fucking dumb.

“Az,” you murmur. She hums, letting you know she’s listening. “Can I start a little later?”

“What?” she mutters, but you’re already reaching over to the coffee table, grabbing your iPad and the pen that had rolled under the table leg. Azzi sighs dramatically as she watches you open it, but she presses a smile to the crown of your head as you work through the calculations. It only takes you about a minute, but you circle your answer with finality, latching the pen to the magnet on the device and closing it. “An orgasm was all it took to get that brain working, huh?”

“Maybe,” you admit a little sheepishly.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she says with faux indignance, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

And all you can do is stare at her, a soft little smile on your face. Because you are. You really, really are.

#azzi fudd #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd smut #uconn wbb #ncaa wbb #Spotify

533 notes · View notes

wosospacegirl · 3 months ago

Text

Top of the League, Bottom of the Class

Summary: Y/n’s got energy for days, jokes for every occasion, and zero patience for schoolwork. Too bad Alexia and Leah are determined to make her study, even during international break.

Warnings: Alexia is a bit...stern at the beginning, but I swear she softens up to our girl y/n!!

Word count: 7.4k

Notes: This was based on a request

Masterlist

The sun was setting over Barcelona's training ground, it was late already–too late for a certain player to be on the pitch. But Y/n was there, happier than ever, with her headphones on while she trained some dribbling skills with one of the dummies.

The training had ended one hour ago, but some players were still at Barcelona’s training ground, although most of them were having physiotherapy sessions or late gym hours–meaning they were far away from the pitch, so there weren’t any chances Y/n would be caught.

Y/n had a whole thing planned out. After training, she took a shower in the changing room, talked a bit with Jana and Vicky before taking her gym bag and saying goodbye, walking through the door as she rambled about how much homework she had to do when she got home.

But when Jana and Vicky took a left in the corridors, Y/n told them she had forgotten her water bottle–again, so she had to go back and get it. Jana and Vicky watched as Y/n walked. The two girls had no idea that their friend was actually planning yet another training session on the pitch.

Although no one could know about Y/n’s late-night rendezvous, because she actually wasn’t allowed to stay in the training center past 6 pm, Barcelona’s team had created this rule because Y/n got so caught up training after-hours that she didn’t do her homework.

Y/n had to balance school, in between being professional players for Barcelona and England, but the girl couldn't care less about school.

Football was her life. It wasn’t just her passion; it was the one thing that made her feel truly alive.

She was a star on the pitch, but when it came to school, she was a different story. Books? Boring. Homework? A waste of time. For her, the only subject that mattered was football.

Her grades were slipping…badly. The headmistress at her school had to call Barcelona’s office to talk about it because Y/n’s parents weren’t in the country, and she had no one to take care of

Of course, Barcelona thought it would be a good idea to assign someone to assist and look over Y/n. A normal club would have hired a teacher, or even a babysitter, but since Barcelona had this weird "Som una família" [we’re family] vibes, they assigned no one less than La Reina, Alexia Putellas herself, to be the one to help her with geometry homework.

At first, Y/n thought Alexia wouldn't take it seriously, maybe just to go to some parent-teacher meetings when necessary. But no, Alexia had made it one of her life responsibilities to get Y/n through math classes.

And that’s why she was hiding from Alexia now. She had told the captain that she was going home just before she met with Vicky and Jana. Alexia just nodded and kissed her on the cheeks as she–very weirdly–was the first to go home.

Y/n could easily fit in another hour or two of training before the center actually closed. What if she had history homework? Barcelona had a big game coming up, plus, international dates were just a few weeks away, and she had been called up to the senior squad again–she had to be in top shape.

So Y/n stayed on the pitch. Her headphones on.

She flicked the ball between her feet to the rhythm of Young Hearts Run Free, lost in the music and movement. She didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching. She only noticed when…

Yank.

A sharp pain ran through her ear as her headphone was pulled out of her head.

"Ouch"! Y/n turned around, rubbing the sore spot. "What the fuck?! That’s child abuse–"

Her eyes found a very, very angry Alexia. Her throat felt dry, as if she couldn't speak.

She was in so much trouble.

Alexia was right in front of her, arms crossed, looking very unhappy. Her hair was down, her make-up was done, and…wait. Was she wearing…a dress? Huh?

"Ale? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, nena," Alexia said sternly. "How many times have I told you to go straight home after training?"

Y/n looked down, playing with the ball on her feet, feeling her cheeks blushing for getting caught.

"I asked you a question," Alexia said– before kicking the ball from y/n’s feet, sending it rolling into the net.

Goal..yay?

"I just need to train more, Ale!" Y/n said exasperatedly, pointing towards the goal as if to prove her point. “International break is c–”

"International breaks do not matter if you fail school!" Alexia said. "You know you need to present a clean school report to play for the senior squad, right?"

"Yes, I know that," Y/n muttered.

"It doesn't seem like you do," Alexia said, casually pulling her phone from her purse and holding it up to Y/n’s face.

Oh no, Y/n knew what that meant.

"You got a 2/10 on your biology test, and then a 3/10 on your math test," Alexia said. "First of all, why am I finding out about it through an email? Why didn't you tell me?

"Because you’d get mad at me just like you’re now!" Y/n shot back

"I'm not mad!" Alexia said, voice tight. "I'm disappointed."

Y/n froze and stared at Alexia.

Y/n felt a cold rush go through her body, setting a weight on her chest.

Disappointed? She could handle being yelled at. She could deal with Alexia being frustrated or angry. But disappointment? Y/n didn’t know what to do with this. It felt wrong.

"I make time on my schedule to help you study," Alexia said, her finger counting off each point. "I buy things you need for school projects, I read the same books you need to read for Spanish class to try and motivate you, and this is what I get in return? Slack?’

Y/n felt her eyes fill with tears. She tried to find something to say, but her usual funny and witty comments that would normally get her out of any serious situation were nowhere to be found.

Alexia was looking at her, her eyes and lips tight, her foot tapping on the grass restlessly. She missed the usual gentle and patient Alexia right now more than anything.

"I know you love football, Y/n, but this," Alexia pointed towards the pitch. "Is only a small part of what your life will look like in the future; you need to be ready for more."

Y/n swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying not to let Alexia see her tears, but she failed. She quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of her barça hoodie while looking away.

“You need school to move forward, you can be the very best players on the pitch, but if you don’t give the same effort off of it, you’re not going to make it very far,” Alexia’s voice softened just slightly.

Alexia’s words hung in the air as she watched the girl standing in front of her.

“Sorry,” Y/n said quietly, “I shouldn't have hid it from you.”

"Have I ever made you feel like you needed to hide things from me?" Alexia said, taking a step closer and placing her hand on Y/n’s shoulder as she leaned just slightly to be the same height as her eyes.

Y/n shook her head.

“Exactly," Alexia said, putting a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “This is the first time I’ve been stern with you, isn’t it?”

Y/n nodded, looking away.

“Will it be the last?” Alexia asked.

Y/n wished she could easily nod along without a second thought, but she also knew how much of a hard time she had with school. But still, she couldn't let it happen again, and couldn't let Alexia get this upset with her.

So she forced the word out. “Yes.”

“Okay, good,” Alexia said. “Let's go. It's late.”

Without another word, Alexia turned toward the exit, and Y/n followed her.

They didn’t talk on the way out, but the silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable.

The steady weight of Alexia’s hand on her shoulder, and the way she effortlessly picked up Y/n’s training bag and slung it over her own–it was enough.

Y/n didn’t need to hear the words to know that she was forgiven.

They walked through the car park, the night cold and the postlight brightening the way they made Alexia's black car.

Y/n was already thinking of what to expect from the car drive as she rubbed the sting on her ear from where Alexia had oh-so-graciously removed her headphones and tugged at her ear.

They would probably be in a quiet, awkward ride–just her and Alexia’s disappointing sight and, very occasionally, passive-aggressive grips on the steering wheel as Alexia made sure to put on the worst songs ever known to humankind.

Alexia had given Y/n a bunch of rides, so Y/n followed the usual routine of going to the passenger seat, but to her surprise, there was a woman sitting there,

One Y/n had never met.

Y/n tilted her head, trying to think of every single player of every single women's team in La Liga. No, she wasn’t in any team. Then she thought of the staff of Barcelona… also no.

Yep, Y/n had no clue who this person was.

Y/n slowed her steps, eyebrows furrowing as she took in the unfamiliar woman sitting there.

She was pretty. Dark hair, and soft features, a warm smile was on her lips as she watched Y/n and Alexia approaching.

Y/n stopped right outside the car, looking between her and Alexia with suspicion. "Uh, Ale? Who is this?"

Alexia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if already exhausted by the interrogation she knew was coming.

"Y/n, this is Olga. Olga, this is Y/n." Alexia said simply. "You go there," Alexia pointed at the back seat.

Olga turned fully in her seat, extending a hand out the window.

"So you’re the famous nena, huh?" Olga said, smiling genuinely. "Alexia talked a lot about you."

"Oh yeah? She did?" Y/n shook her head before immediately nodding. "I like you already… Olga."

She pulled open the back door and climbed in as Alexia slid into the driver’s seat.

Silence settled over the car as Alexia started driving. Y/n had expected her to be better at small talk, but apparently, she wasn’t.

"So…" Y/n leaned forward, poking her head between the front seats. "Who even are you, Olga?"

"Get back to your seat and put on your seat belt," Alexia said sharply. "And…we were having dinner."

"Having dinner?" Y/n asked.

"Sí"

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"It’s that Italian place near Carrer de Pàdua," Olga finally explained, noticing how Alexia seemed to only give the young girl vague answers. "It’s great!"

"Wait–did you guys go to L'Italiano Perso?" Y/n asked

"Sí," Alexia said again. "We were on a date–"

Y/n’s eyes widened. "Wait. What?" She stopped buckling herself up, being too shocked by Alexia’s revelation.

"A date, Y/n," Alexia said in exasperation, a heavy voice. "You know, when two people who like each other go out…u might not know much about it, but–"

"Since when do you date?!" Y/n interrupted. "And excuse me? I go on plenty of dates! Thank you!"

"Drop it." Alexia sought, tying her hands around the wheel, Y/n could even see the blush of her cheeks

"Oh bloody hell!" Y/n exposed, putting her hand on her own cheeks. "Does your mom know about it? Your sister?"

"If you don’t shut up, I’m stopping at the England embassy to have you deported," Alexia said, deadpanned.

"Ok, that was rude," Y/n said, finishing buckling her seatbelt and leaning her back into her seat. "I can think of a few English people who would love to have me back."

"Let’s get you back to then, maybe this way I can have a proper date once"

The drive was mostly silent after that, Y/n noticed that Alexia's awful music taste was replaced by cool, modern songs. After a few minutes thinking why Y/n saw that it was Olga’s Spotify that was connected to Alexia's car.

Hm. Good piece of information.

That meant that it wasn’t their first date…

Wait. Fuck

Y/n’s stomach sank. Alexia was on a date.

A date that she had to interrupt because of Y/n's stupid irresponsibility

“Oh no!” Y/n said.

“Oh no?” Olga turned to look at her, and then at Alexia, as if the blonde could decipher everything that came out of Y/n’s mouth. “What happened?”

“I ruined your date.” Y/n’s eyes widened. “I'm so sorry, Ale!”

“Nena," she sighed as she held the wheel with one hand and rubbed her temples with the other. “You didn’t ruin anything, don’t worry.”

“No, seriously, I totally ruined your date." Y/n looked between them, horrified. “That’s why you look… so put together all of a sudden! That’s why you were in a dress! I thought that was weird! I’m so–”

“Y/n." Alexia’s voice was sharp, a blush growing into her neck as she avoided making eye contact with Olga, who was biting down a laugh. “Shut. Up.”

Y/n pouted. “But did I really ruin it?”

Alexia sighed. “We were having dinner, and then I got that email about your grades, and I got mad. So I drove to your house, and when you weren’t there, I knew exactly where you’d be.”

"Uh…oops?." Y/n cringed.

Y/n realised she could never be captain. Imagine being on a date and receiving an email from a kid–that wasn’t even your kid– saying they went bad on a test about cell division and having to drop everything to go look for them? Nope.

Olga turned in her seat again, resting her chin on her palm as she looked at Y/n. “You know, if you wanted to sabotage Alexia’s love life, there are easier ways.”

Y/n quickly caught Olga’s teasing tone and smiled at her.

"I wasn’t trying to sabotage, I was just training, I swear!" Y/n laughed, loving watching how Alexia’s eyes rolled.

"Instead of doing your homework," Alexia added, making a U-turn.

Y/n groaned, dramatically. "I get it, I get it, I’m a disappointment, bla bla bla"

"You’re not a disappointment," Alexia rolled her eyes. "Stop being dramatic, you’re just–"

“An academic disaster?” Y/n offered an awkward smile on her face.

“A headache.” Alexia finished.

“You two are fun," Olga said, placing a hand on Alexis's thigh. "It makes me laugh.”

Y/n grinned. "Does that mean I can be the third wheel all the time?"

"No," Alexia said

"We’ll see," Olga said at the same time, winking at Y/n.

Y/n sat up quickly, having a bright idea. "Well, if that’s how it’s gonna be, I might as well ask… Olga, do you know anything about mitosis and meiosis? I’ve got a test coming up..."

Alexia immediately shot a glare at her. "Y/n, no. Stop bothering Olga."

Y/n put her hands up defensively. "Hey, I’m just trying to help my education!"

"Maybe you should help yourself first," Alexia mumbled.

"You know, you should listen to your captain before she strangles you," Olga said, laughing.

Y/n watched as Alexia smirked at Olga…Smirked!

"Okay, ew!" Y/n said, "Was that…flirting? Please stop the car so I can throw up."

"Oh Déu meu, nena, calla!" Alexia snapped.

Y/n squinted her eyes. "I have no idea what you just said, Alexia, but I bet it was rude!".

But then, Y/n noticed something strange.

Y/n leaned forward, confusion in her eyes. "Wait a minute...why aren’t you driving me home?"

"I’m going to school with you tomorrow," Alexia said casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. "It’s easier if you sleep at mine, I’ll drop by your house in the morning so you can get your school bag and then we can head out from the..."

Y/n raised her eyebrows. "What? Why are you going to school with me?"

“They want to talk about your grades and about the next international break –you’ll be three weeks out of school, they want to see how we can organize your school work.”

"Okay, but they can talk to me about it," Y/n said. "Why do they want you there

"Why do they want me there? Nena, did I give you an earful for nothing?" Alexia glanced at her, impatience in her voice. "I’m responsible for you! They want to make sure you’ll have an actual adult looking out for your education."

"So you’re coming with me—" Y/n said carefully. "Like, as a parent?"

"Sí," Alexia replied, completely unfazed.

"Oh, come on, Ale! This is so embarrassing!"Y/n threw herself back into her seat, groaning. "Don’t you have training or something better to do?"

"Sí, I do actually," Alexia simply said. “And I’ll be very happy at training tomorrow if I didn’t have to go talk to the headmistress, but since someone needs to keep an eye on you, I’ll be the one to do it."

Alexia paused for a second, then added, "Also, you’re benched for the next two games."

"What? No!" Y/n yelled.

"Sí."

"You can’t do that!"

Alexia turned to her with a calm expression. "I just did, nena.”

Y/n ran her hands through her face dramatically. “You’re ruining my career, forever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alexia waved off with one hand. “You’ll survive.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“We’ll see that.”

Y/n groaned again and rolled her eyes.

"You beware, Olga," Y/n mumbled, crossing her arms and looking out of the window. "She’s always this pain in the a–"

"You just won yourself another game on the bench," Alexia said. “Wow, that’s got to be a new personal record, huh?”

Looked at Alexia through the rearview mirror, indignation on her face.

Olga raised her eyebrows, biting back a grin as she watched Y/n’s reaction. She gave her leg a light pat, offering no real support.

"Oh, rough amiga, but maybe you can study a bit while you’re on the sideline."

"You know what, Olga," Y/n said with a betrayed look in her eyes. "I don’t like you anymore."

When they finally reached Alexia’s house, Y/n was determined to get back at Alexia for being so… she wasn't actually sure. A responsible adult?A good guardian? It didn’t matter the reasoning, she just wanted to annoy Alexia.

But now, after meeting Olga, Y/n realized there were even better and more efficient ways to annoy Alexia.

As they stepped inside, Y/n noticed how familiar Olga seemed with the place, so she couldn’t help but smirk, and she formulated a plan.

"It’s your first time here?" Y/n asked, casually tossing her gym bag by the door.

"Nena," Alexia warned, making sure Y/n knew Alexia was very aware of what she was doing.

"Oh, no," Olga said, flashing Y/n a smile. "I’ve been here before… You know, movie nights and stuff like that."

"Oh yeah," Y/n said, dragging out the words with insinuation. "Movie night, I get it," she winked at Olga.

"So where am I sleeping?" Y/n asked, changing her attention from Olga to Alexia.

"Guest room."

"But you only have one guest room!" Y/n protested, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah? And?" Alexia shrugged, her tone casual. "You’re only one person."

"But where’s Olga sleeping?" Y/n pressed, leaning in with a teasing grin.

"In my room," Alexia replied nonchalantly, trying not to make a big deal about it so Y/n wouldn’t make a big deal about it.

But of course, Alexia was wrong.

Y/n shot a playful glance at Olga, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, okay," she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then…don’t wanna get in the way of more than just the date, you know."

Olga bit back a laugh, but Alexia turned to Y/n with a look that could kill.

"Go. Now." Alexia pointed toward the stairs. "And do all your homework for tomorrow. I’ll check in during breakfast."

All the playfulness drained from Y/n’s face.

"All my homework?” Y/n whined, “It’s a lot of stuff and it’s late already!”

"Should’ve thought of that before sneaking out to the pitch," Alexia said, her voice emotionless.

Y/n groaned dramatically. "I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah. It’s part of the job," Alexia said, waving her off like it was nothing. "Now go."

Y/n did what Alexia asked of her, or at least…she tried.

She had to do homework for basically every subject because she didn’t get any work done during the week, so it was all piling up. She grabbed Alexia’s notebook from her room before accessing her school website and logging in to see every assignment and reading she had to do, and it was a lot.

She began her while lying on the bed, reading slide presentations and watching some YouTube videos about the subjects. It helped a little, but everything was still so blurry in her head.

Why did she have to learn geometry? Or learn about the deep history of every country in Europe?

The girl groaned and closed the notebook, putting it aside.

She was dumb. That's what it was.

Y/n was always the slowest in class, the last kid to learn how to read or to spell, the one you absolutely didn't go to if you had questions about school work. Y/ns teachers also made sure she knew how bad she was compared to other students.

She felt inferior and worthless whenever she was in school. But when she was on the pitch? She was good–one of the best, even!

That’s why she didn't like to do homework, it reminded her how much harder she had to work compared to others just to get a 6/10.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around, she turned around a lot before she was actually able to fall asleep.

Y/n woke up to the sound of her phone ringing and vibrating aggressively under her pillow. She barely had time to process what was happening, and she looked at the screen on the phone, confused, reading the name Leah Williamson.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, knowing exactly why Leah was calling. She had barely survived Alexia’s lecture, and now she is going to have to hear through another one.

With a deep breath, Y/n clicked the green button on the screen. "If this is about the email, I–"

"What email?" Leah's voice came on, slightly confused.

"Hmm… this isn’t about the email?"

"No, this is about you not doing your homework–according to Alexia" There was a pause. "Should I be checking my email too?"

Y/n cursed under her breath before replying. "No! No email. Forget I said that…I just woke up, so I must have, hm, dreamed about…emails"

"Uhum,” Leah said sarcastically. "I’ll be asking Alexia about that later…Now tell me what the hell is going on with you? Sneaking to the pitch? Really?"

Y/n winced. "Leah, I’ve already talked to Alexia about it, I don’t need you too–"

"Yes, you do need me to talk to you because it seems like you think you’re your own person, but you are only sixteen.”

“Leah!” Y/n groaned.

"No, Y/n. You don’t get to complain. You promised you’d take school seriously." Leah said, and Y/n quickly remembered the numerous times Leah had also lectured her about it during camp. "And don’t try the ‘football is all I need’ argument, because you and I both know that’s not true."

Y/n pressed her lips together, knowing full well she wouldn’t win this one. She kept quiet, scared to say the wrong thing and make Leah even more mad.

"I’m serious, Y/n. You need to get your act together. Alexia’s worried!" Leah said. "She told me it wasn't the first time that you played football instead of studying! You need to learn your responsibilities."

Y/n muttered something that Leah couldn't understand..

"What was that?" Leah asked

"I said that Alexia is a snitch."

"She’s a snitch because you didn't tell me first," Leah said. "But since I need to have the Alexia Putellas on my phone giving me updates about your school life, we both decided to do things in our own way."

Y/n gulped, scared of whatever Alexia and Leah had planned together

"You can expect a lot, and I mean a lot of textbooks in your room when you get to camp," Leah said. "I’ll keep a close eye on you here in England, and Alexia will do the same when you’re in Barcelona; we won’t let you keep this on."

"Serious kid," Leah continued. "You moved to Spain on your own at sixteen, you have your own house, you’re talented, but you refuse to do a few math exercises? Come on, mate"

"I’m sorry," Y/n muttered. "I’ll be better, I’m just…"

"What?" Leah asked, her voice softer now.

"I'm dumb, okay!" Y/n blurted out before she could stop herself. "I don’t get things quickly, and it just—it doesn’t stick like it does with other people."

"Hey, don’t say that," Leah cut in, her voice sharp with concern. "Struggling with school doesn’t make you dumb, you’re smart, kid. You wouldn’t be where you are if you weren't."

"It doesn't seem like that most of the time," y/n said in a low voice.

"You might not see it," Leah said. "But the people around you certainly do, that’s why we keep pushing you, we know you can do much better."

"Look, I have to go," Y/n sighed. "Alexia apparently has to go to school with me today."

"Okay, kid, we’ll talk later, then," Leah said. "Good luck with that! Love you, bye!"

"Love you too," y/n said before she hung up the phone and put it aside.

Y/n rubbed the sleep off of her eyes, and that’s when she heard the door crack open.

"You’re not dumb, nena," Alexia said, firm but gentle.

Y/n’s head snapped up. "Ale! Were you…eavesdropping on my conversation?"

"Sí," Alexia replied without hesitation, crossing her arms. "You’re loud, and I was coming to tell you breakfast is ready."

Y/n groaned, sinking further into her seat. "Unbelievable."

Alexia didn’t waver. She leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. "Cariño, listen to me. You are not dumb. Don’t ever say that again, do you understand?"

Y/n hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. "I just have a really hard time with…school.”

“Then we’ll get you help,” Alexia sighed, stepping closer to Y/n and sitting on the bed by her side. “But first you need to try, you can’t give up like that.”

“We’ll figure it out, sí?” Alexia continued. “I’ll talk to your teachers today, and we’ll think of something.

Y/n nodded, a little more reassured. "Okay."

“Girls!” y/n heard Olga calling from downstairs. “Your breakfast is getting cold!”

“Breakfast, huh?” Y/n nudged Alexia with her shoulder. “Should I get used to seeing Olga around?”

Alexia rolled her eyes, ignoring Y/n and extending her hand, palm open.

“Let me see your homework.”

“Oh come on, mate!”

When Alexia said she'd find Y/n some help, she really wasn’t joking.

She had created a whole schedule that balanced football, school, and dedicated study time. She even printed it out and made Y/n hang it in her room, so she’d always know what her day looked like.

Since she was a student-athlete, she only attended school for half the day, doing the rest online. Her schedule was packed—morning classes, lunch, training, online lessons, more training, and homework. That last part? She used to skip it. But now, with Alexia’s plan written out for her, she actually stuck to it.

At first, Y/n thought she’d hate it. That she'd never get used to it. But having a routine was so much easier than doing whatever came to her mind. Plus, her schedule included team study nights, and those turned out to be some of the most fun days of the week.

“I don’t get it,” Aitana said, holding her biology book close to her face, eyes squinted. “It looks so weird.”

Pina turned the book, which was upside down– for her. “Maybe this way is better.”

“No,” Aitana shook her head. “Still weird.”

Y/n was in the middle of writing an essay when their conversation caught her attention. She looked up and scooted close to Aitana and Pina.

“What are you guys looking at?” Y/n asked.

“This,” Aitana said, pointing at the page.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows “Oh, that’s how the replication of DNA goes.” Y/n said casually, coming back to her work. “You know, double string, DNA polymerase, nucleic acids.”

There was silence.

“And since when did you know that?” Pina finally asked.

Y/n shrugged, getting back at her assay. “Just do.”

“Oh,” Aitana muttered, back to the books. “Alexia is for sure going to love that.”

“Please make sure to tell her,” Y/n sighed dramatically. “So she can take me off the bench already,”

Y/n had just finished a painfully online lesson when her phone rang. She barely glanced at the screen before answering.

“What?”

“Hello to you too, sunshine,” Leah's dry voice came through.

“I’m busy,” Y/m said, taking the pencil she was holding off of her mouth before taking a new textbook and putting it on her study table.

“Too busy for your favorite captain?” Leah teased.

“Oh, I didn’t know this was Alexia,” Y/n said, teasing Leah back;

“You’re awful.”

“Not as awful as school,” Y/n groaned, letting her head fall on the open textbook.

“That bad?” Leah hummed.

“I had to write a whole page about the First Carlist War, it took like an hour!”

“Wow, a whole page,” Leah snorted. “I’m impressed you survived that.”

“You said that because you aren’t the one having to write about dead people after an excruciating training session.”

“Yeah, if you actually did your work, maybe Alexia wouldn’t have to babysit you and make that schedule.”

“She doesn’t babysit me!” Y/n scowled. Offended. “I still live alone and-”

“Oh really?” Leah interrupted. “Then what’s that piece of paper in your room that tells you exactly when to eat, sleep, study… breathe.”

“It’s a routine, Leah.”

“Yeah, routines are like fancy for babysitting teens,” Leah said. “But seriously, though, I'm happy you're actually following it, keep it up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n huffed, but her lips twitched in a small smile “Don't worry.”

“Okay, kid, gotta go now,” Leah said. “I’m looking forward to your thrilling Carlist War facts when you get to camp next week.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure you listen to them,” Y/n shot back, but it sounded more like a dare.

“Are you really sure this is a healthy way of studying?” Salma asked, eying the situation with doubt.

When Y/n had called her, Vick and Jana to her flat for a ‘Girl’s Night’, a Don Quixote quiz wasn’t something she was expecting.

“It seems like fun to me,” Vick said with a grin. “Go on, Salma, ask her already.”

Salma sighed but turned to Y/n, while Jana stood next to her, holding a pillow threateningly close to Y/n’s face. “Alright—why is the narrator of Don Quixote so different when compared to other books?”

Y/n groaned, “Ugh– okay! The narrator is different because the author itself is the one telling the story. But he, uh, kind of switches styles to first person sometimes to give some insight about the story, so it’s like he’s the narrator and a character,” she said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the impact,

Silence.

“Oh, come on,” Vick said, disappointed, glancing down at the little card in Salma‘s hand .“She’s right.”

Jana lowered the pillow dramatically. “Salma! Ask harder questions!”

“You guys are supposed to be helping me study for my literature test, not trying to beat me up with a pillow!” Y/n complained. “Give me some credit here!”

Salma flipped through the flashcards. “Okay, fine…Um, what does the character Dulcinea mean to the story?”

Y/n widened her eyes and opened her mouth. “Oh, hm, it’s like–”

Whack.

Jana didn't even wait for Y/n to say anything before hitting her on the face–hard.

“Jana!” Y/n complained, shoving the pillow away from her face and rubbing at the sore spot on her nose. “I knew that one! She exemplifies the emptiness behind Don quixote's quest for valor and virtue or some shit like that!.”

Salma hesitantly checked on her notes. “–Hm, yeah, she’s right.”

“See!” y/n said, pointing accusingly at Jana. “I was right, you shouldn't have hit me.”

“Oh, she should have hit you harder for being such a nerd,” Vicky mumbled

“Ok, that’s bullying,” Y/n said. “I'll report you to Aitana.”

...

A week later, Alexia stood with Y/n at the airport, arms crossed as she eyed her sternly. “Do your homework, Y/n. I’m serious. And if you have trouble, FaceTime me and we’ll do it together.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Last time you tried to help me, you didn’t understand it either.”

Alexia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Olga helped you, though, so FaceTime her if you need to."

"You’re just trying to find reasons for me to interact with Olga because we’re like.. your favourite people in the world," Y/n smirked.

Alexia ignored the comment and continued, “And I’ll call Leah to make sure you’re keeping up with everything we agreed on.”

"Great. Two captains breathing down my neck. Love that for me." Y/n groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.

"You’ll survive, cariño,” Alexia smirked. “Now go before you miss your flight.

Y/n was a smart girl, so she made sure to finish most of her homework on the flight to England. That way, when she got to camp, she wouldn’t have to stress over schoolwork too much.

“Hey,” Aggie and Grace greeted as they walked into the room.

The three of them were sharing a room at camp, though Aggie had seriously considered complaining about it.

Every night, Y/n sprawled herself and a ridiculous number of books and notebooks across the floor, creeping very closely to Aggie’s side of the room.

“Wanna go out with us?” Aggie asked, leaning in the doorway. “We’re all heading to that restaurant we talked about.”

Y/n immediately looked up from her book, grinning as she pushed herself up, kicking her books aside. “Yes! You know I’ll never turn down a night out–”

“Have you done your math homework?”

The voice came from behind Aggie and Grace. Both girls instinctively stepped aside.

Leah.

Y/n’s excitement disappeared in seconds. Her shoulders dropped, and her grin turned into a frown. “Le, come on! It’s halfway done. I’ll finish it when I get back.”

“No,” Leah said simply. “You finish it first, then you go out.”

There was no room for argument. Leah was already disappearing down the hallway before Y/n could even think of an excuse.

“I hate this.” Y/n groaned dramatically as she flopped onto Aggie’s bed, ignoring the judgment of the girl's eyes. “I hate school. I hate math. I hate Leah.”

“I think she’s still in the hallway,” Grace whispered.

“It’s alright,” Y/n groaned, “she knows how I feel.”

Y/n mourned her lost night out for a short thirty seconds before she had a brilliant idea. She turned around on the bed, facing the girls, her best puppy dog eyes on her face as she silently pleaded for help.

Grace and Aggie exchanged a look. They both sighted, already regretting it.

“Okay, fine,” Grace said. “We’ll help you finish it faster.”

Y/n happily got off the bed and picked up the math book she had so dramatically kicked under the bed earlier. She flipped to the exercises page and showed it to them.

Both Grace and Aggie squinted their eyes.

“Wait,” Aggia frowned, looking at it closer. “What is this? Where are the–numbers?”

“It’s algebra,” Y/n muttered. “It only has letters.”

“How are we supposed to calculate anything if it doesn't have any number?” Grace asked, despair on her face.

“I'm so not going out tonight,” Y/n said hopelessly.

“I mean..” Aggie began hesitantly. “What’s the worst that could happen if you just…didn’t do it?”

“Yeah,” Grace nodded. “It’s not like Leah would, I don’t know…punch you or anything.”

Y/n went still, but then, with a slow and heavy sigh, she closed the textbook, looking at the wall, as if she was staring into the void. “She’d do something much worse than punching me.”

Aggie and Grace shared another nervous glance. “Like–?” Aggie asked.

“She’d tell Alexia,” Y/n said, eyes full of dread.

“Oh,” Grace paled.

“Yep,” Y/n nodded. “And Alexia would definitely make me do some boxing classes with her just so she could punch me in a non-illegal way.”

Aggie swallowed. “Alright,” she said, trying to shake her fear. “Let’s, hm, do some…math.”

Y/n smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Algebra wasn't easy. At all.

Aggie, Grace and Y/n tried very hard, but they took 30 minutes to do one exercise–and they weren’t even sure if it was right.

“This isn’t working,” Y/n groaned, staring down at the ruined page in front of her. The paper was ripped in half from how many times she had erased her answer. “We need another plan.”

“I know what we could do, actually,” Aggie announced.

Y/n and Grace perked up. “What?” Y/n asked hopefully.

“Lucy,” Aggie said in a lower voice, leaning in. “She could do that in like… 20 minutes”.

Y/n blinked. “Lucy?”

“And since when does Lucy know anything about algebra?” Grace frowned.

“She doesn’t,” Aggie admitted. “But we don’t need her knowledge. We need her personality.”

“You better not make me regret it,” Y/n said, “If Leah knows about it I'm gonna be screwed.”

“Relax, leave it out to me.” Aggia waved a hand dismissively.

With that, Aggie confidently grabbed the textbook and walked out of the room, leaving Y/n and Grace apprehensive.

Half an hour had passed before Aggie finally walked back in, holding the textbook as if she had just stolen it somewhere.

“I did it,” Aggie announced happily.

Grace and Y/n got out of the bed they were sitting on. “No way,” Grace murmured.

“How the fuck did she do that?” Y/n asked, snatching the book from Aggie’s hand, flipping the pages in disbelief.

“She did them all?” Grace asked, peeking behind Y/n’s shoulder.

All forty exercises. All done.

In Y/n’s defense, she had made twenty-five of them before Aggie and Grace had come to the room, so technically Lucy didn’t do all the homework for her– Lucy just… helped.

“What did you do, Aggie?” Y/n asked, mouth slightly open from the surprise.

“I dared her,” Aggie said, shrugging casually.

“You…dared her?” Grace asked.

“Yep! Knocked into her room and said I dared she could do those,” Aggie pointed at the book with her chin. “Lucy’s very competitive, so of course she said yes without asking any questions–she just snatched the book out of my hand and went to work.”

“Oh wow,” Y/n Grace.

“You’re like an evil genius,” Y/n said, shaking her head in amazement.

Y/n sat back, flipping through the pages in awe. “Lucy actually did it. Oh. My. God.”

“Oh, yeah,” Aggie said casually. “And then she asked if there were more.”

Y/n and Grace exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“We have got to use this against her more often,” Y/n muttered. “I feel like we just discovered a gold mine.”

“Exactly,” Aggie smirked. “Now let’s get ready, we have a night out waiting for us.”

The rest of the camp was unfazed. Y/n actually did all of her homework–by herself–and she didn’t even have to ask Lucy to do it. A true miracle.

It was safe to say Y/n was learning something.

Leah and Alexia were proud of her–even though, technically, she hadn’t mentioned the whole algebra episode to either of them.

But it only happened once…It wasn’t like they were going to find out.

She just needed to make sure Lucy would stay away from Leah, or else she would be dead.

Literally dead. Gone.

Football would lose one of ot’s brightest stars.

The flight back home was good.

Y/n actually enjoyed her flight this time because she had no school work to do, a feeling she hadn’t felt in weeks. And the best part? Coming back to Barcelona after winning four games during the international break.

That feeling was great. But not having to take a cab home because Alexia was waiting at the airport for her was even better.

When Y/n spotted the blonde before waving and grinning. She ran to her and practically crashed into Alexia’s arm, her suitcase rolled somewhere behind her.

“I see you missed me,” Alexia teased, wrapping the girl in a hug.

“No, I didn’t,” Y/n mumbled, her face buried in Alexia’s hoodie.

Y/n loved England. It was her home–the place where she grew up, where her real family lived. It reminded her of her childhood, of play dates with her cousin and road trips with her parents.

But Spain was hers. The place she chose, surrounded by people she picked. It was different

“Leah told me you were actually good,” Alexia murmured. “Did everything, didn’t skip any online school.”

Alexia and Y/n walked through the airport.

“Yeah! What can I do? I’m actually smart when I want to be,” Y/n smiled..

Alexia hummed, but this time with a hint of amusement.

“So you imagine my surprise,” Alexia continued casually. “When Lucy texted me–something she hadn't done since she left Barcelona–saying she wanted to do more of your ‘exercises’, that they were cool.”

Y/n froze.

She felt her blood run cold, and she suddenly stopped. Alesia took two steps before realizing Y/n wasn’t by her side.

Alexia turned to look at her, eyebrow raised.

Fuck you Lucy, Texting Alexia? About algebra exercises?

“I, hm– well” Y/n’s brain short-circuited. “I can explain it?”

Alexia just stared.

Y/n’s mouth opened and closed. “So, technically, I did do my algebra homework.”

Alexia gave her an unimpressed, tired look.

“Like… twenty-five of them to be more exact.”

Silence.

“Which is most of them.” Y/n continued. “So you can’t be mad at me for that.”

“Does Leah know about it?” Alexia asked.

“Yes.”

Silence again

Alexia hummed and picked up her phone from her pocket. “So if I just called her right now and asked–”

“No!” Y/n blurted out, taking the phone from Alexia’s hand, “I mean–why bother her? She’s a busy woman! Euro winner and all, let’s not waste her time with…math.”

Alexia breathed through her nose, shaking her head as she calmed down. Then, the tiniest smirk appeared on her face.

Y/n was scared of what was coming.

“You’re helping clean the training center for a month.”

“No!” Y/n said dramatically.

“Sí

“Ale! Are you serious?”

“I am serious.”

“A whole month?!” Y/n rubbed her hands through her face.

“Sí.”

“Even the locker rooms?”

“Especially the locker rooms, nena”

Y/n groaned and dragged her feet after Alexia.

“Will you tell Leah?” Y/n asked, her voice small, hoping it would make Alexia go softer.

Alexia paused for half a second–just enough to give Y/n hope. But then Alexia turned around, an annoyingly fond look on her face.

“That depends,” Alexia said. “Will you start taking your academic responsibilities more seriously?”

Y/n placed a finger on her chin, looking up. “Hmm…define ‘seriously’ first.”

Alexia sighed, already regretting giving the girl any choice.

Please let me know what u guys think!! Hope you liked it!!!

Masterlist

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #leah williamson #alexia putellas #lioness teen reader #barcelona femeni x reader #woso appreciation #woso community

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damneddamsy · 2 months ago

Text

FALLING. RATING Explicit (18+ only) PAIRING Joel Miller x BIPOC OFC (Leela) FORMAT & SETTING Joel's POV & Post-TLOU Jackson AU WORD COUNT PER CHAPTER approx. 12,000+ STATUS Complete

SUMMARY It is said that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. Now, Joel Miller wasn’t looking to be a saint. Trust was a liability. Love, a memory too painful to keep. But if a sinner like him still had some future, and if that future starts with one night—a baby’s relentless cries cracking through his walls and breaking him open—then maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t lost everything yet. Against all instincts, he steps into that big, white house across his street. Nothing drives Joel to linger, but he does. For the baby at first—nascent Maya, with her bright eyes and fistfuls of Joel’s collar. Then, the strange new mother. What begins as an uneasy coexistence grows into something deeper, which neither of them dares name. Haunted by a narrative she never chose, brilliant but reclusive, Leela’s mind runs into the theoretical—proofs, patterns, chasing solutions to an unsolvable equation—while Joel’s hands are scarred by the practical: protecting, killing, enduring. When that peace becomes fleeting, when a fragile hope in the shape of a mathematical discovery begins to bloom, and the world, as always, threatens to take it away, Joel confronts what it means to fall—not just into the impossible, but into love, into hope, into the fragile rhythms of Leela and Maya’s life, and their quiet home that becomes a rare thing in this decaying tomorrow: a reason to stay. This is a story of healing, found family, and the abnormal, slow math of love—how we factor grief, multiply hope, balance the unknowns, it never adds up but somehow makes perfect sense.

INDEX (might be subject to change as the story progresses.)

part i -> EVENT HORIZON

part ii -> MICROFRACTURE

part iii -> FALSE EQUILIBRIUM

part iv -> MINIMUM VIABLE HOPE

part v -> RECONSTRUCTION ALGORITHM

part vi -> LIMIT APPROACHES GRACE

part vii -> FREEFALL FUNCTION

part viii -> SOFT INFINITY

part ix -> STITCH THEORY

interlude

part x -> DECOHERENCE

part xi -> ZERO CROSSING

part xii -> THEOREM OF BECOMING

part xiii -> HEURISTIC BLOOM

part xiv -> THE FINAL INTEGRATION

epilogue

acknowledgements

FALLING MOODBOARD (a huge bear hug, thank you and shoutout to the incredible @jolapeno !!)

FALLING MOODBOARD (2) (so many kisses and so much love to the talented, sweet @mrsmando !!)

CHARACTER STUDY A deep dive into Joel, Maya, and Leela, answering an ask from one of my sweetheart friends @jodiswiftle who followed along!

AUTHOR'S NOTE Have loads of fun with this masterlist! took me a while to think up a different way to potray these chapters, I'm so glad it came through so great!

TAGS your (ultimate) fix-it fic, The Dad™️ Joel, softest Joel you've ever seen, he is also an old yearner cuntstruck hardass, Joel being down bad for a teeny baby girl, OFC is arabic, OFC being an academic nerd and STEM girlie, the cutest baby (Maya) ever, baby is an actual character, Miller family dynamics, Tommy-Joel-Ellie hooliganisms, life in Jackson town, Ellie being the generally awesome older sister, neighbours-to-lovers trope, found family, slowburn, a lot of math references, lotsa door metaphors, epistolary interlude.

CONTENT WARNINGS eventual smut (the whole kaboodle), big griefs, depression, unbearable angst, violence, gore, blood, alcoholism, substance abuse, post-natal depression, the pains of motherhood, mentions of rape and suicide, childbirth.

594 notes · View notes

mercvry-glow · 2 months ago

Text

In the cool blue

parings. andrew "pope" cody x reader

summary. while staying at the cody house, a small group of rivals takes you, j and nicky hostage while the other are out. pope helps you in the after math.

warnings. based off of season two late episode six/early seven (so spoilers but also eh), reader is at the house with j and nicky when javi shows up, assault, drowning, gun mentions, reader and j get beat tf up, pope is actually pretty chill in this he's a softie today, established relationship, angst and hurt/comfort, general animal kingdom stuff, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. this is now my longest fic 😭 idk what inspired me to get this out but I really hope y'all enjoy bc this is a doozy and my current magnum opus. as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 5700+

It was supposed to be a quiet night.

You were stretched out on a lounge chair by Smurf’s pool, your freshly painted toes resting on the edge, a silk robe sliding off your sun-warmed skin. The water glowed that dreamy blue under the patio lights, casting ripples of light across your legs.

J and Nicky were inside, supposedly studying—though judging by how quiet it’d been for the past hour, you figured they were either making out or asleep, but with Nicky banging Craig you didn’t know. Either way, it meant you had the place to yourself. For once, things felt… safe. Even with Pope gone, running one of those jobs he never gave you the full story on.

You liked it better that way.

Until you heard the gravel shift.

At first, you thought it was just the wind. But then came the unmistakable slam of feet on the driveway. Then another. Then voices—low, quick, male.

You sat up.

The voices weren’t familiar. They didn’t carry like Deran or Craig’s. They were sharper. Harder.

You turned, just in time to see movement at the side gate. Four shadows. One of them kicked it open without hesitation.

Your blood ran cold.

You were moving before you even realized it, sandals forgotten by the chair, robe trailing behind you as you bolted across the backyard and slipped inside through the back slider, locking it instinctively—too late.

Before you could even breathe, a glass behind you shattered.

You screamed—just a little, more of a gasp—and darted down the hall, barefoot on tile, adrenaline flooding your veins.

You ducked into the nearest hallway closet, pulling the door shut as softly as you could, heart pounding so loud you swore they could hear it from the kitchen.

Then came the noise.

Boots stomping on tile. Furniture dragging. A bottle shattering.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to hold in a whimper.

“Where is it?” one of the men barked.

“Check the freezer! Smurf used to keep cash in the damn freezer,” another snapped.

Cabinet doors slammed open. A chair was kicked over. Something heavy crashed to the floor and shattered. They were tearing the place apart like they knew something was here—and they wanted it now.

You didn’t dare peek. You couldn’t even cry. You just stayed curled up in the dark, wedged between winter coats and some old duffel bags, praying your knees wouldn’t give out before it was over.

You weren’t cut out for this. You weren’t a Cody. You weren’t like Pope.

You were just the girl he liked to keep close.

And right now, you were alone.

You didn’t even know how long you’d been in the closet.

Seconds? Minutes? It all blurred. Your muscles were locked, knees tucked to your chest, the smell of mothballs and old leather coats clinging to you as loud crashes and shouted curses continued to fill the house.

They were everywhere—kitchen drawers being yanked out, bedroom doors thrown open. You heard the crack of something heavy hitting the wall, then the dull thud of furniture being flipped.

Your fingers gripped the hem of your robe, knuckles white.

“Nothing’s here!” one of them yelled.

Another guy laughed, a low, mean sound. “Bullshit. This is Smurf’s place. There’s always something here.”

They were getting closer.

The voices grew louder. Clearer. Footsteps pounding down the hallway—your hallway. You squeezed your eyes shut.

And then they stopped.

Right outside the closet.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You heard someone mumble something under their breath, and then—

Click.

The door handle shifted.

You barely had time to suck in a gasp before the door was yanked open, the bright hallway light flooding the tiny space. You squinted up at a man with a shaved head, a leather jacket, and a small scar across his cheek. He froze when he saw you—half crouched in the back of the closet like a deer caught in headlights, robe pulled tight across your chest, cheeks streaked with silent tears.

His eyes widened, and for a split second, you thought maybe he’d just back off.

But then he smirked.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low and oily. “What do we have here?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

He grabbed your arm, hard, yanking you up to your feet like you weighed nothing. You stumbled, your bare feet skidding on the hardwood.

“Thought this place was empty,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes raking over you like he was trying to figure out if you were worth more than whatever cash they’d been looking for.

You tried to wrestle yourself back into the closet wall, like maybe you could disappear. But he faster, calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist like a vise once again.

“Let go of me!” you gasped, but it barely came out.

He yanked you to your feet with zero care, dragging you forward, your bare toes sliding on the hallway floor. You fought him, pulling back with what little strength you had, but his grip only tightened.

“Don’t make this harder, princess,” he snapped, dragging you through the house as drawers hung open, broken glass crunched underfoot, and the stink of beer and sweat filled the air.

“I didn’t see anything—I swear—” you tried, breath shaking.

“Bet you know where the money is, though,” he shot back.

“I don’t!”

He ignored you, hauling you through the busted slider door and out into the cool night air. Your robe flared in the wind, and you blinked against the patio lights still glowing around the pool. Just minutes ago, you’d been lying there, peaceful, content—now you were barefoot, bleeding from your heels, and being dragged across the stone like some kind of prize.

The others were outside now too. Three men, scattered across the yard, tossing things from the poolside storage chest, upending flowerpots, one of them even kicking at the filter cover.

“She was hiding inside,” your captor called out, shoving you forward a few steps. You stumbled, caught yourself just before you hit the edge of the pool.

“She know where it is?” one asked, barely glancing up.

“She will.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, heart thundering so loud you swore it echoed off the water.

One of them walked up to you slowly—taller, older, colder-looking. His boots stopped just short of your bare toes.

“You got about ten seconds to tell us where Smurf keeps her stash,” he said. Not yelling. Just matter-of-fact. Like he wasn’t asking—he was waiting.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Wrong answer.

The one who’d dragged you out stepped behind you, grabbing your arms tight and jerking you back against him. The edge of the pool was at your toes now. You felt the chill of the water in front of you, the way your balance shifted just slightly.

“Think again,” the tall one said.

Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them back.

Someone would come.

You twisted in his grip, heels slipping on the wet tile, arms aching from how tightly he held you.

“Please—please, I don’t know anything!” you gasped, trying to plant your feet, but he kept pushing you closer to the pool’s edge.

The taller guy just stared, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I swear to God, I don’t—Smurf doesn’t tell me anything! I just—I’m just Pope’s girlfriend!”

“Which means you know something,” the one holding you growled, yanking your arms up hard enough to make your shoulders burn.

“I don’t!” you cried out, voice cracking as panic bubbled up into your throat. “I don’t even live here—I didn’t even want to be here, I just—they told me to hang out! I was by the pool!”

“Then you shouldn’t have been hiding like a little rat,” the man sneered into your ear.

Your breath caught. “I was scared,” you whispered. “You broke the door down—I thought you were here to kill someone.”

Another guy—shaggy hair, wide eyes like he was hopped up on something—laughed darkly from the side of the yard. “Might still happen, sweetheart, if you don’t start talking.”

“I don’t know!” You squirmed in the first guy’s grip, finally throwing your elbow back into his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it caught him by surprise and he grunted, stumbling just a step.

You broke free for half a second—just long enough to bolt toward the other side of the pool.

But the tall one was fast. He grabbed a fistful of your robe, yanked you back so hard your legs gave out.

You hit the ground on your knees, palms scraped raw from the stone. Before you could move, a boot shoved your shoulder, forcing you to stay down.

“Try that again, and I’ll throw you in face first,” he warned.

Tears spilled hot and fast down your cheeks now. You shook your head, voice high and broken. “Please—I’m not lying—I swear to God, please just let me go! I didn’t do anything!”

No one answered. The only sound was the water lapping gently behind you, and the soft clink of something metal being tossed into the grass.

They weren’t hearing you.

They didn’t care.

And Pope… Pope wasn’t here to fix it.

You curled in on yourself, trembling. You’d never been this scared in your life. And if they decided to stop being patient?

You didn’t know what would happen next.

Your wrists were burning.

The zip ties they had grabbed bit into your skin as one of them yanked your arms behind your back, cinching them so tight you cried out. “Shut up,” he muttered, like your fear was an inconvenience.

The others had gone quiet. Focused.

The tall one paced near the pool, agitated, eyes scanning the yard like he was waiting for something to appear. The guy who tied you up shoved you down roughly back onto a lounger, rope around your ankles now too. You kicked, once, but it only earned you another curse and a warning glare.

You were helpless.

And then… movement.

From the corner of your eye, past the broken slider door and toward the far patio table, you saw J—slow, careful, almost crawling—edging toward the backpack he’d left out there earlier. It was half-hidden under a chair, just slouched enough that no one had noticed it yet.

But you knew what was inside.

His gun.

Your eyes went wide, lips parting in a silent gasp as you watched him stretch a hand toward the strap, his body low, fingers just brushing the zipper. He was so close—

A shout cracked through the night like a whip.

J didn’t freeze.

One of the guys—shaggy hair, twitchy—was already rushed toward him, tackling him towards the pool. J tried to dive away, but the man cracked him across his ribs, sending him sprawling across the stone with a sharp grunt and into a chair.

“Don’t!” you screamed from the lounger, struggling against the ropes. “Stop it! He’s just a kid!”

“Yeah?” the tall one snapped, stalking toward J now with ice in his voice. “Then he should’ve stayed hidden.”

The man in the brown jacket went to grab some leftover rope as two of his men continued to beat up J. They ignored your cries, focused on getting the teen who knew much more than you did.

J coughed, curled on his side, one arm over his stomach. He looked at you—eyes wide, scared, like he was sorry. Sorry he got caught. Sorry he couldn’t stop this.

And all you could do was watch, wrists bound, robe soaked with your own tears, knees bleeding from the flagstone.

Inside the house, somewhere deep, a door creaked. Maybe Nicky was still hiding—maybe she’d heard it all.

God, you hoped she stayed hidden.

J was already coughing, barely able to get to his knees when they grabbed him again.

You tried to scream—tried to tell them to stop—but your voice was hoarse, useless against the chaos unfolding feet away from you.

The tall one grabbed J by the collar and hauled him. His shoes scraped across the tile, hands clawing at the man’s arm, but he was no match. Not like this. Not when he was winded and scared and outnumbered.

“J,” the tall one growled, voice calm in that cold, terrifying way, “who else is in the house man?”

“No one… just us,” J grunted, trying to gain his breath back.

Wrong answer.

“Go check the bedroom.” the man, who you assumed to be their leader, said as two of them left to go search the house again.

The silence was heavy, water sloshing up onto the patio as J’s body stayed on the stone. You curled instinctively, like maybe if you didn’t watch it would stop, but the zip ties bit into your skin again and you could barely even sit up, and it kept you in the moment.

The tall man knelt at the pool’s edge, grabbed J by the back of the shirt, and held his head. “Smurf isn’t here?”

“Sh-She went to meet you…”

You started sobbing quietly.

“She didn’t show.”

They didn’t listen to whatever the teen had to say, and two of them took J into the pool holding him up by his shoulders.

“Hey, Jay. Where does Smurf keep her money?” the bald man asked, brandeshing his revolver like it was no big deal. J could barely get his answer out before they shoved him under.

Your heart seized in your chest. “He’s not lying! He’s just a kid!”

They yanked him back up—J came out sputtering, gasping for air like a fish yanked from the deep, hair plastered to his face, chest heaving.

“One more time,” he asked, voice deadly quiet, “Where is Smurf’s money?”

J shook his head, water dripping down his face. “I swear to God—I don’t know—”

Back under.

The splash this time was smaller, like J didn’t even have the strength to fight it.

You were screaming now. Screaming and crying and twisting so hard your skin was raw from the rope, your knees scraped to hell from the concrete. “Please! He doesn’t know anything! Please don’t kill him!”

Finally—finally—they let him up again.

He floated toward the edge, wheezing, barely able to lift his head.

The tall one stood slowly, glanced over at you.

“You believe him?” he asked, wiping water from his hands.

You nodded frantically, eyes wide. “Yes! Yes, I believe him! I swear he’s telling the truth—there’s no money here! I-If it was, it'd be behind the dryer o-or shoe boxes!”

He didn’t move. Just stared at you for a long, uncomfortable second.

Then he said, “Maybe we’re asking the wrong person then.”

Your stomach dropped.

The twitchy guy who’d hit J first turned, stepping closer to you with a smirk, eyes running over your soaked robe, your trembling frame. They had dragged the poor boy out of the pool, beating him a bit more before turning their attention to you.

“Nah,” he said. “She looks like a real good liar.”

And then the tall one said it—flat, casual, awful.

“Next time, we start with her.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t even think.

Just cry.

You didn’t even realize how loud you were until the tall one’s eyes snapped back to you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Shut her up.”

Your breath caught in your throat, panic curling deep in your gut.

“No—no, please, I didn’t—” You tried to scramble backward on the lounger, bound wrists twisting behind you, but you didn’t make it far. One of them—the twitchy one—grabbed your ankle and yanked you off the chair like it weighed nothing. You hit the stone patio with a painful thud, cheek scraping the ground, knees buckling beneath you.

“Get off me!” you cried, kicking, writhing in the ropes. “Don’t—don’t touch me!”

But he already had both hands on you, dragging you toward the pool.

“Guess she wants to take a swim,” he said darkly, like it was funny.

“No! Don’t—please, please don’t—!”

You thrashed harder, your robe getting twisted, legs scraping over the edge of the concrete just as your toes touched water. Cold. Too cold.

J was still wheezing, choking on his own blood, on the opposite side, watching in horror as they pulled you closer to the deep end.

“Leave her alone!” he tried to shout, voice wrecked from coughing.

The tall man didn’t even look back. “She wants to run her mouth, she can hold her breath.”

And then you were in the air—ropes tight, arms behind you, no way to break the fall—

Splash.

The cold hit you like a brick.

You sank instantly, robe ballooning around you, legs kicking uselessly as your wrists stayed locked behind you. You tried to swim, tried to surface, but the water kept dragging you down, twisting your body as you fought against it.

Your lungs burned.

You broke the surface once—gasped—only to be shoved back under again.

You didn’t know which of them did it. A hand on your head, a push between your shoulders. You couldn’t see. Everything was bubbles and blur and cold, cold, so cold.

Your scream was just a gurgle under the water.

You were going to drown.

And they didn’t care.

You came up again, coughing violently, gasping through sobs, and someone finally pulled you toward the steps, dumping you like trash onto the slick tile. You coughed, spit, choked on your own breath as you curled onto your side, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Now shut the hell up,” the tall one said, calm again, like none of it meant anything.

Behind him, J was still slumped on the ground, bleeding, soaked, and shaking.

And you—barefoot, half naked, shivering, and drenched—lay there helpless, your body shaking so hard it barely felt real.

You didn’t say another word.

The cold, sharp air felt like it might never leave your lungs. You shivered uncontrollably on the edge of the pool, the water dripping from your hair, your robe clinging to you like a wet sheet. The ropes around your wrists bit deeper into your skin, but you were too numb to even notice it anymore.

Then the door creaked.

You didn’t see her at first, just heard the shuffling footsteps—slow, dragging, someone stumbling.

“No one else in the house huh?,” the tall one said with a grin, eyes flicking over toward the door.

And then, like something out of a nightmare, Nicky was shoved into view.

Her face was swollen, bruised, blood streaking down her cheek from where someone had hit her. She was tied up too, wrists bound, her own robe in tatters from the way they'd manhandled her. She could barely stand, her knees buckling as they shoved her forward, her eyes red from crying, hair in disarray.

“No—no…” you whispered, horrified. Your voice cracked like glass under pressure.

She didn’t look at you, didn’t even try to. She was too dazed, too hurt, and when they shoved her to the ground next to you, she just crumpled, hands still tied, trying to curl into herself as much as possible.

“Nicky, please,” you begged, trying to push yourself toward her, but the ropes kept you in place, your body too weak to get far.

The tall one crouched down in front of J, who they had just pulled out of the pool one last time, was still trying to sit up from where they’d dumped him on the ground after you’d been thrown in the pool. He was shaking now—no longer the kid who thought he could hide a gun, no longer defiant. He was a ragdoll, eyes wide with fear yet dropping with exhaustion as he looked back and forth between you, Nicky, and the crew.

“Think I came all this way for twenty-five grand!?” the tall one said, eyes cold and calculating, smacking J in the face with the money you told them where to find. He drew another gun from his jeans, “Last goddamn time! Where’s the real money?!” The gun was aimed right on J’s face, locked and loaded and this guy wasn’t afraid to do it.

J’s lips parted. He didn’t say anything at first, and the silence was worse than anything else. “I told you I don’t know, I swear!” the blonde boy promised, desperate and pleading. They stepped on his bad leg, the one he hurt in the church hiest, as you and Nicky screamed in pain for him.

Nicky flinched when one of the men reached down and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her up roughly. She winced but didn’t cry out, just staring at the ground, her whole body shaking.

“Get her out of here?” the tall one said again, voice flat.

J didn’t respond. His hands were shaking, too, but he wasn’t answering.

The crew didn’t wait.

One of them grabbed Nicky, taking her god knows where after she left your sight as the two men kept arguing over the fucking money. J’s scream was guttural, and he collapsed back to the stone, curling in on himself, chest heaving with pain.

You gasped, heart hammering in your chest as you fought against the ropes, but you couldn’t do anything.

J tried to speak, but it was barely a whisper. “Smurf’s got a storage unit on Freemont!”

The tall one stood back, his eyes cold, hands in his pockets. “What’s the number!?”

J said he didn’t know but would take them as long as they didn’t take Nicky, begging them to stop before pushing him into the pool one last time. His body arched, another groan escaping his throat as he struggled to swim, just as you had. He wasn’t able to defend himself, wasn’t able to do anything but take it.

You could feel the heat rising inside you, your stomach twisting in knots. You wanted to scream, to help him, to do something—but you were just tied up, helpless, watching him be broken apart in front of you.

They left after that, leaving you on the floor barely conscious. Taking Nicky and leaving J to drown in the pool his grandmother owned. You tried to crawl toward him, wrists bleeding from the ropes, but your vision went white, then black, then nothing at all.

The Jeep rolled to a slow stop in the driveway, headlights washing over the front of the Cody house. The gate was open. The porch light flickered. One of the patio chairs was overturned on its side like it had been thrown or tripped over. Something about the stillness was wrong. Off.

Pope stared at the front door—it hung open just a crack, too quiet, too deliberate. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel as his instincts kicked in. He killed the engine and reached down beneath his seat, pulling out his gun. “Stay in the car.”

Smurf started to follow, her hand already on the door handle, but Pope turned to look at her sharply, eyes already storm-dark. He told her to stay put.

She didn’t listen.

“I said stay in the car!”

By the time he was creeping up the walkway, gun low and steady, Smurf was already on his heels. Her voice was low but sharp, cutting through the heavy silence—there was no way in hell she was waiting in the damn car while something had clearly gone sideways.

The moment they crossed the threshold of the house, the sight hit them first—The living room was a mess. Chairs overturned. A shattered lamp across the floor. One of the barstools broken in half, splinters fanned across the tile. Picture frames cracked and crooked on the walls.

Pope’s eyes swept the scene, methodical, calculating. Smurf stepped over a smashed photo of Baz and Julia, heart hammering in her chest as her gaze caught the trail—scuffs on the floor, a faint smear of blood.

Pope moved room to room, clearing each space like the soldier he was, finger resting steady beside the trigger. The whole place was silent. Empty. But it wasn’t abandoned. Something had happened here. Something bad. And it wasn’t over yet.

Smurf made it to the back of the house first. She reached the sliding glass door and stopped cold.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Outside, under the cold glow of the moon, two figures lay in the stillness. One, half in the pool—barely moving. The other crumpled on the concrete like a broken doll. She bolted, flinging the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. “Pope get out here!”

And he was right behind her, and when his eyes landed on the scene, he didn’t hesitate. J was slumped at the edge of the deep end, one arm hanging limply into the water, lips blue, chest barely rising as he coughed out water. His skin was soaked and pale. They ran for him, dropped to thier knees, and hauled the rest him out in swift motion, dragging him onto semi-dry ground

You were collapsed on the pavement not far from him, your wrists still bound, rope burns angry and raw. Your clothes were damp and ripped in some places. Your head lolled to one side, blood matting the edge of your hairline. You were breathing—but it was shallow, strained, like your body was hanging on by a thread.

Andrew dropped beside you, hands still as he checked your pulse, pressed his fingers against your clammy cheek. There was blood, but it wasn’t fresh. Whoever had hurt you. Tied you up. Left you here like garbage. His jaw clenched as he tore the ropes free with his knife.

His own heart was racing now—not out of fear, but rage.

Behind him, Smurf was crouched next to J, trying to keep him awake, her expression darkening with every slurred word that came out of the kid’s mouth. Something about a storage unit. Fremont. Smurf’s name. Nicky. And a man—Javi. He’d given them what they wanted. It still hadn’t been enough.

Pope was tense, but not from the sudden adrenaline rush. From fury. From failure. From the sight of you lying there like that, and J barely clinging on.

Smurf pulled off her coat and draped it over J’s shoulders, and You flinched slightly as Pope tried to move you, a broken whimper escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.

The air felt thicker now—like the violence hadn’t left yet. Like it was still sitting heavy over the house, waiting to be answered.

You woke to the low hum of an air conditioner and the faint scent of bleach and detergent—clean, sterile, unfamiliar. The world came back in pieces. The pressure in your skull. The aching pull of your muscles. The bruises blooming beneath your skin.

Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light of a shaded living room. You were lying on a couch, a heavy blanket draped over your legs, the cushions dipping slightly beneath your weight. Your old clothes were gone. Replaced with a big, worn t-shirt that didn’t belong to you and a pair of sleep shorts. The fabric was soft. Smelled faintly like soap and someone else’s cologne.

Specifically the someone next to you.

You turned your head—barely—and saw Pope, sitting silent in the chair beside the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. His eyes were fixed on the floor, brow furrowed, that same stormcloud expression carved into his face like stone.

There was a first-aid kit on the table nearby. A bloody rag beside it. A bottle of water, half-drunk. And your wrists—carefully wrapped in gauze. Clean. Tended to.

He’d done it. You could tell.

His head finally lifted. Eyes meeting yours.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stared. Not coldly—but intensely, like he was trying to figure out if you were real or maybe just what to say.

Your throat was dry. Scratchy. Every part of your body screamed in protest, but you managed a slow breath. You swallowed, trying to sit up slightly, and he was there in an instant—hand on the couch cushion near your arm, grounding you, steadying you without touching.

He didn’t ask how you felt. He didn’t need to.

The silence between you said enough.

You blinked at him, struggling to find the words. You remembered the pool. The ropes. The last thing you saw—J’s body going under, your own lungs burning, your screams swallowed by the water.

But you were here now.

Alive.

Pope leaned back slightly, never taking his hazel eyes off of you. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and gravely.

"You’re safe now."

It wasn’t a comfort. It was a promise.

And in the look he gave you, you knew—someone was going to pay for what happened, every second of it.

The silence lingered, stretching long between you.

Heavy.

You kept your eyes on him, chest tight and aching in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries. There was this pressure building inside you—like your ribs were made of glass and every breath was another tap against the surface. The weight of it all pressed down until it cracked.

Your lip trembled before you could stop it. A choked breath caught in your throat. And then, without thinking—without asking—you pushed the blanket off and slid off the couch, barefoot and trembling, legs unsteady beneath you.

Pope moved instantly, as if to stop you from falling, but froze when he realized where you were going.

You stepped between his knees and just… folded.

Dropped down into his lap like gravity pulled you there, like it was the only place you could go. Your arms slid around his neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face against his shoulder and finally let it go.

The sob came out broken and raw, like it had been hiding deep in your chest, waiting for the moment you were safe enough to let it out.

And Pope didn’t speak.

He didn’t stiffen or push you off. He just wrapped his arms around you, slow and solid, one hand bracing your back, the other cradling the back of your head like you were made of something fragile. He held you like that was his only job now. Like that was all he could do.

Your body shook with each breath, each silent sob that spilled into the fabric of his shirt. You weren’t even sure what part of it broke you—J being thrown into the water, the ropes cutting into your skin, the helplessness, the fact that no one came until it was nearly too late—or maybe just the simple weight of surviving it.

Pope stayed quiet. Solid. A wall at your back.

He didn’t shush you. He didn’t tell you to stop crying. He just held on tighter.

Eventually, your cries softened. Still trembling, but quieter now, worn out from the storm. Your arms loosened, head still pressed to his shoulder, breaths coming in uneven little gasps.

“I thought I was gonna die,” you whispered against him, the words barely audible.

Pope didn’t answer right away. But you felt the slow rise and fall of his chest. The way he breathed in through his nose like he was trying to keep it together, too.

“You didn’t,” he said quietly. “You’re here.” In that soft, impossible voice of his—rough and raw and honest—you could feel the edge of something else underneath.

You stayed like that for a long time, curled against him in the quiet. The sounds outside the windows were distant—cars passing, wind through the trees, the faint hum of someone’s music down the block—but none of it touched you here. Not in this little pocket of stillness, where Pope’s arms stayed around you like he was trying to hold your broken pieces together with his own hands.

Your breathing slowed eventually. You felt the exhaustion in every limb, every bruise, but you didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to let go. The silence between you shifted—less sharp now, more full. Safe.

Your voice cracked when you finally spoke again. "I thought no one was coming."

Pope’s hand moved slowly along your back, not soothing exactly—more like he needed the contact too. He let the silence linger a moment longer before he answered.

"I should’ve gotten there sooner."

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were darker than usual, rimmed with something unspoken. Not guilt exactly—something deeper. Regret. Rage. Fear. All the emotions he felt so intensely.

“You got there,” you whispered. “You found me.”

That mattered. It mattered more than he probably realized.

He looked at you for a long second. You could see it then—the way his jaw clenched, the slight shake in his hand as it rested against your hip. He hadn’t stopped replaying it.

Finding you like that.

Finding J.

“I didn’t know what I was gonna see,” he said finally. His voice was low, hoarse. “When I walked in.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging again. “They were gonna kill him. And they were gonna take me and Nicky too. I—I thought—”

Your breath hitched and his hand was already on the back of your neck again, grounding you, pulling you gently forward until your forehead rested against his. He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t say anything romantic or comforting. Just held you there, close.

“The guy…” you breathed, “he kept asking about the money. Smurf’s stuff. I don’t even know what the hell they wanted from me.”

“You didn’t tell them anything,” Pope said, more fact than question.

You shook your head. “Didn’t know anything important enough. I just… took the beating.”

His grip on you tightened for a second, like the thought of that was too much. Like he needed something to break. But then he took a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“You did good.”

You looked at him—eyes puffy, cheeks streaked with tears—and almost laughed, but it came out cracked and sad. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You survived,” he said. “That’s everything.”

And you knew, in that moment, that if Pope had gotten there even five minutes later, he would’ve dragged bodies out of that pool himself. Not to save them. But to make sure they stayed under.

You let your forehead rest against his again, breathing in his warmth, the steady thrum of his presence. Not perfect. Not even close. But steady in the way only Andrew “Pope” Cody could be—quiet, fierce, unmovable when it mattered.

You closed your eyes.

“I don’t feel safe anywhere right now.”

His arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time. And his voice was soft enough it barely reached your ears.

“You are when you’re with me.”

mercvry-glow 2025

#animal kingdom #animal kingdom tnt #animal kingdom x reader #animal kingdom x you #andrew cody #andrew cody x reader #andrew cody x you #pope cody #pope cody x reader #pope cody x you #andrew pope cody #andrew pope cody x reader #andrew pope cody x you #shawn hatosy #❥ - Pope Cody

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sleepntalk · 2 months ago

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just thinking about nerd!megumi, always trying to act nonchalant, deep down he’s actually not!

nerd!megumi, whose deeply in love with someone who doesn’t even look his way, only looks his way when she needs something. (aka you)

nerd!megumi, always trying to impress you, but it comes out as a fail each time, which just disappoints him.

nerd!megumi, slipping notes into your locker, to get you to notice him, or even just give him the slightest bit of attention!

nerd!megumi, always asking mamaguro to cook up some sweets for you, since obviously he knew that was your favorite thing, sometimes nerd!megumi would even try to make his own, but they would always come out burnt, doesn’t mean he gave up with it.

nerd!megumi, goes to an arcade just to win any plushy he’d think you’d like, even uses all of his tickets if he couldn’t win a plushy from the claw machines.

nerd!megumi, trying to act like he’s not madly in love with you each time you walk past him, when his friends notice they would just tease him all day about it.

nerd!megumi, he can’t go to school without, wearing any type of cologne, just to impress you, it’s not like you would notice anyways.

nerd!megumi, finally finds out you’re all time favorite song, once he found that out he could NOT stop listening to that damn song on repeat, his friends could even hear it from his headphones, kept telling him to stop playing it, over, and over again!!

nerd!megumi, the type to forget what he was writing on his math paper, turning his writing into your name.

nerd!megumi, to afraid to ask for your phone number, even tho he wants it real bad, his bestest friend tries to tell him to ask you, multiple times.

nerd!megumi, you bullied him once and he never forgot that, why? who knows.

nerd!megumi, if he ever got your phone number, he wouldn’t know what to say, so he would speak in random relatable photos.

nerd!megumi, came to your house once for studies, and now forever remembers your room, every poster on the wall, every painting on the wall, every photo around your room with friends, family, pets, etc, some people would say that’s weird, but honestly he did not care about what others thought.

nerd!megumi, reads a book in the library, day dreaming of you, especially taking you to the arcade! just to win some stupid plushy just for you.

nerd!megumi, makes a spotify playlist, with a bunch of cute/love songs, just for you, even names it something cringey.

— <33

#jjk x you #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #x reader #jjk fanfic #megumi fluff #nerd stuff #gumi #megumi x y/n

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bloomzone · 4 months ago

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10 signs that you're totally disorganized and how to fix it:

📓. Your notes are scattered everywhere – You have piles of papers, sticky notes, and notebooks, and you can’t find what you need.

Fix: Start by spending 10 minutes organizing what you need for the day n group everything by subject, and toss what you don’t need.

📓. You forget to pack your stuff the night before – You’re rushing in the morning, and you forget books, pens, or even your calculator.

Fix: Prepare your bag the night before. Lay out everything you need and check it before bed to avoid the morning scramble.

📓. You can't remember what subjects you have the next day – You keep checking your schedule last-minute and feel behind.

Fix: Write it on a visible spot—use a planner, whiteboard, or sticky notes to remind you of your schedule. Keep it somewhere you see every day.

📓. Your study materials are not separated by subject – You’re mixing up your revision notes for math, history, and science all in one place.

Fix: Use different folders or binders for each subject. If you don’t have that, color code your notes so it’s easier to grab what you need. ( I personally use binders for subjects with detailed notes like philosophy or french and normal plastic folders for other subject notes cuz I don't trust digital notes 🤫)

📓. You can’t find your previous exams or assignments or some past papes u did – You want to go over old exams, but you can't find them because they’re lost in a sea of papers.

Fix: Set up a folder for past exams and keep them organized by subject. You can even use digital apps to scan and save them.

📓. You end up studying the same chapter over and over – You keep revisiting the same material instead of moving on to what’s next.

Fix: Make a study checklist pleaaaase. List all topics you need to cover and cross them off as you go. Stick to the plan, even if you want to revisit things.

📓. You never know what your next task is – You jump from one thing to another without any clear direction, and everything starts to feel like a mess.

Fix: Create daily to-do lists and prioritize tasks. Break your study time into manageable chunks and u will feel productive

📓. You procrastinate organizing your study time – You think “I’ll organize later” and keep pushing it off until you’re overwhelmed.

Fix: Set aside 10 minutes every morning or evening to plan out your study session, even if it’s just a rough outline of what you’ll focus on.

📓. You keep putting things off until the last minute – You’re leaving study materials scattered until the exam is nearly here.

Fix: Start with the basics ,set small goals, like organizing one subject per day, to get back on track before you get too stressed.

📓. You end up cramming without any clear plan – You try to study everything in a rush, but it doesn’t make sense because you haven’t organized anything.

Fix: Use a timer (I highly recommend an app calls FLIP) put a goal for each 1h session and only focus on one thing at a time. This will help you study in chunks without feeling overwhelmed and understand more the topic u are studying .

@bloomzone

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liketolaugh-writes · 11 months ago

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Bruce looking past the fact that (recently adopted) Danny is a powerhouse and recognizing that he has other skills also. <3

Danny is a STEM kid and just as brilliant as his sister, you cannot convince me otherwise

Danny gave Bruce the handwritten list of powers in the morning. Bruce stared at it over his cup of coffee, then gave Danny a flat, somewhat disbelieving look. Danny shrugged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said, perching on one of the stools. “I can point out the ones I don’t use if you just want to work on the ones I do. At least I have an idea of what needs improving with those.” Alfred gave him a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and French toast, and Danny smiled at him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“We’ll have to prioritize your training,” Bruce allowed after a moment, frowning down at the paper. Dick leaned over to look and whistled. “But all of these will be addressed eventually. You should have at least a moderate grasp of every tool at your disposal.” He looked up. “You intended to work in the lab today, correct?”

Danny nodded, playing with a strip of bacon. “I’ll probably spend most of today making a big batch of phaseproof coating,” he said. “Then I can experiment with mixing it with paint and maybe coat some of your spare weapons in it? That should work for the bo staff and escrima sticks, maybe a set of brass knuckles. But I’ll need to make a different solution for the edged weapons.” His mind wandered, thinking of how he could adapt what he knew of the Bats’ gear to work against ghosts.

“Who’re the brass knuckles for?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny. Danny flushed and shrugged.

“Batman,” he said. “You don’t really use a weapon, right?” Bruce grunted. “But phaseproof cloth isn’t something my parents ever really figured out. I can work on it, maybe, but I thought brass knuckles would be an okay compromise for now.”

“Hn.”

“Good thinking,” Dick praised with a smile. “It’ll be easy to add to the utility belt too. Should we ghostproof my main set or a spare?”

“The main, I think, if you’re okay with it,” Danny said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You probably won’t even notice. But the edged weapons should all be spares. Ecto-treated metal tends to glow.”

“Not great for stealth,” Dick nodded. “Whatever you think is best, baby spook. We have the resources.”

“You’re hyper-specialized,” Bruce noted without inflection, sipping from his coffee. Danny winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It was easy to forget that all this was pretty useless outside of Amity Park. Bruce shook his head.

“It’s not a problem. But we’ll need to diversify your skillset. Your talent for chemistry and engineering should expand beyond ectoscience alone.” He studied Danny contemplatively. “Higher education might be beneficial, perhaps a PhD.”

Danny’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m barely passing high school!”

“I had Casper High send over your transcripts,” Bruce said. Danny flinched. “You had a B+ average in middle school, with a particular bent for math and science. You also participated in several advanced extracurriculars, including a junior astronaut program, space camp, and competitive robotics. Further, you clearly have a comprehensive understanding of your parents’ work, which eludes both the Justice League engineers and JL Dark. You had these talents prior to acquiring your powers, and it would be a waste to discard them in favor of your raw combat ability.”

Danny stared at Bruce, open-mouthed and speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered even the possibility that he could have a future outside of his hero career.

“…Do you think I could do that and be a superhero?” he managed after a minute, quieter than he’d meant to.

Bruce nodded sharply. “Most Justice League heroes maintain a career outside of heroics,” he reminded Danny, without even sounding like he thought Danny was an idiot for asking. “Aside from myself, there is also a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist, a museum curator, a forensic scientist, and a fighter pilot.”

Danny had known that on some level, but it had always seemed unreal. Practically a myth. “When am I going back to school?” he asked, hardly able to believe that he was suddenly looking forward to it.

“At the beginning of next semester,” Bruce said. “Your parents’ trial should be completed by then. I assume you don’t want to be announced publicly until that happens.” Danny shook his head fervently. “You may need to complete some make-up classes online, but we can discuss that next week.”

“Thanks,” Danny said sincerely. He was talking about a lot more than his re-enrollment.

#dc x dp #dcxdp #bruce wayne #danny fenton #dick grayson #my writing #danny phantom #dc #dcu

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suhkusa · 1 year ago

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TO THE TOP.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Sakusa Kiyoomi was ranked #1 in his class. Was, at least until you came along. After this revelation, he makes it a (personal) challenge to overtake you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a genius at everything he does, but for once he finds it a challenge when it comes to you.

CW. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, rivals to lovers except kiyoomi is the only one competing, idiots in love (but theyre actually geniuses), high school setting, ~3k words

A/N. Got inspired from a tiktok and came up with this word vom hope u enjoy

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Academically, at least.

While all his classmates found themselves struggling to take tests or study, it was as natural as breathing for Kiyoomi. There were some cons to being as incredibly intelligent as him, but he found himself drowning in the gratification of being #1.

At least until the 2nd semester of his third year. At least until you.

———

Class Rank: 2

Sakusa finds himself staring at the transcript in his hand, as if his ogling would have an effect in changing the number presented before him.

His eyes scan through his class history, looking for any clues as to how he might’ve dropped in ranking. But there was nothing. All A’s, and as many extra classes stuffed into each year as possible.

Kiyoomi’s home room was rowdy as students caught up with one another, as winter break had just ended. While in his own little world, his ears catch onto a couple of words his classmates threw around.

“I heard Sakusa isn’t the top in our class anymore, is that true?”

“Woah, hasn’t he been the top of our class since the 1st year? I wonder who was able to catch up,”

His eye twitched a bit at that one.

“It was that new girl, Y/N,”

The paper crumbled slightly under his grasp. Y/N?

The ring of the bell, signifying the start of class, caused him to slightly jump in his seat. Kiyoomi crumbles his transcript before tossing it in his bag, it’s going to change soon anyways.

He would just have to step up his game.

———

It was ironic really. The world really loved to test Sakusa Kiyoomi, and not only at his school subjects. Of course, you were his desk partner in his math class. Only he had the amazing luck of being seated next to his new self-declared rival.

Kiyoomi knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t himself because you’re the number one student? You?!

Honestly, you don’t seem like the academic type. You seem too pretty to be caring about stuff like that. At first, he considers the fact that you could be using your looks to get people to do the dirty work for you. But he witnesses first-hand as you write down every math equation, answer every question correctly, and even check your work not once, but twice.

His hyperfixation on you is bad. So bad, he missed the whole introduction lesson and is trying to rapidly copy down what’s on the whiteboard as the teacher is erasing it. Fuck-

“Would you like to see my notes?”

Kiyoomi’s pencil comes to a halt as he looks back at you, your papers are being pushed towards him on the desk. He watches as your eyes widen, as if you suddenly became self conscious.

“I-Is there something on my face? You were staring at me so I wasn’t sure…”

Shit.

“No,” he tries to make up something, but what comes out of his mouth is stupid, “I was just looking past you,” it appears it’s sufficient though, as you nod in response.

“I see, well, did you want to see them?” you gestured to the notes between the two of you.

Kiyoomi tells himself that if you hadn’t offered, he wouldn’t have asked. But since you oh so kindly offered them up, who was he to say no? He doesn’t need them. He could always ask his cousin, though his handwriting resembles chicken scratch more than human writing.

“Sure,” he takes the papers and positions them in a way where he could just look between them and his own.

In his head, Kiyoomi is scolding himself over and over again for not paying attention. This cannot be a regular thing. If he was going to take back his rank, he needed to be on his A-Game.

His pencil slaps against his desk as he finishes, quickly sliding your papers back towards you.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi offers.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you smile and give back an “Anytime,” before gathering your things and getting up to go to your next class.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it was about you, but he could tell he was going to need to up his game. This was war.

———

By the second week of sitting by you, he decides you’re annoying. More annoying than the people who talk while the teacher is talking. Which, in his book, is hard to beat.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he pinned you to be, since you kept helping Kiyoomi with his work when he did not need it.

Though, you were only able to backseat his work because you somehow finished before him. He’s used to being the only one who sits back and relaxes as the rest of his class struggles to complete the practice problems.

It’s weird though. Because as much as Sakusa hates your yapping, he doesn’t find himself putting an end to it. Instead your voice plays in the background as he completes his work.

He hates it, or at least that’s what he tells himself, the way you praise him like a little kid when he finally completes the work sheet.

“Nice job!” you smile at him, “but, how come you don’t check your work to make sure you’re right?”

“Because I’m always right,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

You laugh at that, I’m not joking, he thinks.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you tell him.

Kiyoomi gives you a shrug, “Whatever,”

———

A month in, he begins to indulge in your shenanigans. But only because he had felt bad.

During the third week of sitting by each other, you had taken his short and dry responses personally. You halted your chatter and no longer offered to help like you usually did. The way the classroom felt quiet without your talking was eerie, so Sakusa reluctantly decided that he’d rather hear your voice instead of nothing at all.

So a month in is when your friendship, or whatever you called it, began with him.

“Why do you use erasable pens? Just use a pencil,” he questions you, eyes peering down at your pen.

You look taken aback as you respond, “I don’t know, is there something wrong with it?” you examine your pen, “I just found it on the floor and stuck with it,”

First of all, gross, remind him not to touch you or your belongings ever. “It’s just a hassle, sometimes it doesn’t erase,”

“Well, it hasn’t given me any problems, so!” you exclaim as you get back to write on your practice quiz. “This is kind of challenging, huh?”

“Nah,” he lies, “You’re just stupid,”

You laugh in his face, “Rude,” Kiyoomi watches as you glimpse at his paper before going back to yours, “That’s why you got the first problem wrong and I didn’t say anything,”

Sakusa can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, he’s quick as he glances at it and then yours. Fuck. He’s mumbling something under his breath and he begrudgingly erases the circle around his answer.

“Told ya,” you smile before moving onto the last problem, “you know, we should hangout or something,”

“No,” he’s quick to cut you off, catching you by surprise.

“Whaaat, it doesn’t have to be like that, weirdo,” it seems like you’re going back on what you meant, “Like to study,”

“Still, no,”

“C’mon, don’t knock it till you try it,” you nudge at him, and to be honest, if you were anyone else he might’ve punched you, “please, just once,”

You’re annoying and pushy. But he supposes that if saying yes to you would get you to leave him alone, he’d say, “Fine, whatever, it has to be my house, though. Your house is probably messy,”

Kiyoomi watches as your face slowly brightens before silently celebrating to yourself as you get your way with him once again.

———

“Wow,” you’re amazed as you walk through Sakusa’s house, “your house is so nice, do you have a maid to keep it clean or something?”

“No, just me,” he says before leading you into his room, “please don’t make a mess,”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you say before settling down on his rug, playing with the soft threads, “Okay, I was hoping to review the practice quiz, I know the teacher said I got it right but I feel like there were some parts that had me second guessing myself,”

You’re quick to open up your textbook and blab about whatever problem you were having trouble with. You actually came over to study. Kiyoomi was under the impression that once you got over to his house you’d make him do whatever silly shit you usually have in mind. But no, you actually respected his wishes. Which in turn, earned you some respect from him as well.

“So you’re number one, huh?” He asks, looking up from his textbook to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s surprising that all my credits from my old school carried over,” you mindlessly say as you continue to write on your sheet of paper.

The sound of the pencils scribbling on paper fills the room before you interrupt it, “You were rank one before I came, right?”

His pencil stills, “Mhm,” It was a touchy subject, though he never thought he’d hear it from you.

“I’m sorry,” you surprised him, “When I found out I took your ranking spot, I was nervous because people are serious about that stuff. And then, when I got seated by you and you stared me down, I thought you hated my guts,”

Well, you had it down to the T, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s out of your control,” you smile at his words.

“Thank you,”

It’s then, in his room, when he realizes he’s losing sight of his goal. To overtake your position. As he watched you look back down at your textbook, he found himself locking in as well.

He needed to get serious, now.

———

These hangouts, or study dates, or study hangouts, whatever, became basically practice. Always at his house, though. Since he couldn’t fathom the idea of how dirty your room might be.

“I don’t know how you balance volleyball and school, Omi,” you say from your position lying on his floor.

“Don’t call me that,”

You laugh before continuing, “All I do is school and I’m always exhausted. I had to quit my shifts at the cafe down the road because I would fall asleep before making it to my room,”

“Dangerous, Y/N,” he says, frantically writing down practice problem after practice problem.

Picking yourself off the ground, “Wow, you’re serious about this final, huh, Omi,”

He glares at you, causing you to laugh again, “Sorry, sorry,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before he looks back at his paper, “but you know it’s okay to take a break, right, that’s all you’ve been doing. We haven’t even gotten to try to compete for today’s Wordle yet,”

“Mhm,” is all he offers you.

You sigh in response to that, “Boring, so boring,” you say as you lay back down

“You can go home if you’re bored,”

“Ugh, rude,” you roll around to make yourself comfortable, “I would but sadly I like being in your presence,”

“Whatever you say,”

“Do you like being in mine?” you question, causing Sakusa to hesitate on the problem he was on.

“You’re tolerable,”

You find yourself cheesing, “That’s a yes in my book,”

———

Finals are coming up. There’s so much on your mind, that you finally decide to let one of the thoughts that have been driving you crazy go. The fact that you like Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It’s nerve wracking. Not only because you’re basically confessing your feelings, but also because he’s your only friend you’ve made since being here. A lot of people think he’s rude and condescending, but to you he’s different.

He lets you talk your head off about whatever your brain decides fits best. And while he gives you short responses, they show you that he’s listening and observant. He’s on your level regarding academics and can keep up to your train of thought. He just cares.

And while you hope he might feel the same despite only knowing you for the past couple of months, you chalk it up to fate as to whether or not your intuition is correct.

As you approach the gymnasium, you slow and quiet your steps as you hear familiar voices by the entrance.

“You’ve been hanging out with Y/N quite a bit, huh, cous’? Your mom told mines,” you assume is Komori based on his words.

“Yes. It’s not like that, though,” you recognize as Sakusa.

You assume he might be fronting since it is his cousin, and feelings are embarrassing at times.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t like her, she’s like one of the prettiest girls in class and she’s smart. So like, your type,” Komori pushes. And while part of you likes that he said that, you soon take it back after Kiyoomi’s words.

“I don’t like her. I only put up with her because she’s so pushy and always hovers over me while I try to do my work. Plus, she took my ranking spot,”

The world feels silent for a second, the only sound audible to you is the sound of your heart slowly breaking.

“She’s just a nuance, honestly,”

Your feet are moving before you realize. Slowly backing away before running the opposite direction.

He doesn’t like you? You were right that he hates you because you’re number one? He let you into his house but only because you pushed him? Your thoughts are running faster than your own legs, you don’t even realize the drips of water slowly running down your cheeks.

If number one was what he wanted, then you were going to give it to him.

———

Kiyoomi finds it weird. Finds you weird. Well, he’s always found you weird, but particularly as of recent. But only because you’re quiet. And have been for the past couple of days.

At first, he assumes it’s because the finals had finally arrived and you wanted to focus on your work. Which, respect, because it also allowed him to focus on his own.

But even after the finals had passed, you were still quiet. You opted for doodling in your notebook instead of talking to him about a new video game you’ve hyper fixated on or this new show you started to watch.

It’s even weirder when the teacher is going around passing out the graded math finals, that he stops by your desk, letting out a whispered, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,”

Kiyoomi hears, and it calls his attention towards your paper before even his own. His eyes widened.

A big, fat, red 0 marked at the top of your quiz.

“Y/N-”

“Are you happy now, Number 1?” you ask, still looking down at your paper.

He’s about to ask you what the hell you’re talking about before the bells conveniently cut him off, allowing you to take off without a second glance back at him.

His mind is caught up on your words, Number 1. Kiyoomi has never brought up his disdain regarding the rankings to you, ever. Yes, it bothered him at first. But eventually he didn’t mind it, since the only person he’d ever allow to be above him is you.

Kiyoomi thinks back on any time he’s ever mentioned it before he remembers the one time he had ever verbally brought it up to anyone. But there was no way… unless.

Fuck, Sakusa thinks as the bright red 100 on his paper stares back at him. It mocked him, poking at his head uncomfortably. Without a second thought, he crumbles the paper before stuffing it into his bag. Kiyoomi had finally gotten back what he’s been working for this whole time, so why does he feel empty?

Kiyoomi realizes then that while you may have lost your Rank 1 position, he was the true loser. Because he didn’t have you.

———

He finds himself at your door before he even knows it. He’s giving an excuse of “she left her notebook,” to your parents as they direct him to where your room is.

When he finally walks in, he’s shocked. Your room is clean.

Even as you lay in your bed so peacefully, the space around you is clean, and he feels like it’s safe to walk in.

“Y/N,” is his first attempt at waking you up, before he’s walking closer to your bed, crouching down a bit to pat your back, “Y/N,” again.

It’s by the fourth or fifth time that he calls your name that you finally look up at him, and you look heavenly.

He’s always known you were pretty, but even more so now you were gorgeous, hair messy, eyes droopy with sleepiness. You were perfect.

Your eyes blink a couple times before you look like you’ve processed who is standing before you. Quickly sitting up, hands moving every which way to fix your appearance, “Omi- I mean Sakusa what are- what do you want?”

Ouch.

“You need to leave, I-I don’t want to see you,” your voice is beginning to tremble and it hurts him, “You finally got what you wanted, I don’t know what more you want,”

“You, I want you,”

Your face drops in disbelief, “No, you don’t. I heard you, what you said,”

“Y/N-”

“No, you hurt me, Kiyoomi. I like you,” you cry, “You can’t just say all of that and then show up out of nowhere claiming otherwise,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he’s kneeling now, allowing him to be the same height as you as you sit in your bed, weeping, “I-I’m sorry,”

His rough thumb smoothes away your tears as they fall, “I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated- and that’s no excuse for what I said, I fucked up really bad,” with every word another sob breaks loose from you, “And I’m sorry,”

“At first, all I ever wanted was to be rank #1, but then you came along and changed everything… Then I realized that it wasn’t being #1 I wanted, it was you,” he continues, “and that’s scary, because my ranking was all I’ve known all these years,”

“But even so, you made it okay. I was okay with being #2, I was so caught up in you that I forgot I ever wanted to be #1 in the first place,” your eyes finally meet behind the thick tears in your lashes, “I like you, Y/N,”

He can tell you’re at a loss for words. And for once he can finally say he has out-talked you.

Until finally, you decide words aren’t sufficient in this situation. Before he knows it, you’re leaning forward, and your lips are on his. The kiss is short, but definitely more than a peck. But it felt infinite to Kiyoomi. He never wanted the moment to end, and found himself sad as you finally pulled away.

You stared him down for a brief second before tackling him down to the ground in a big hug, “I hate you, Omi,” you laugh angrily.

“Sure,” he smugly replies, watching as you smile into his shirt.

“My number one,” you sarcastically mutter as you fake pout at him.

He cringes, “Ugh, don’t. I feel guilty, why would you even do that? You’re crazy,”

“Because I don’t care about the ranking. I never did. Plus it somehow only dropped me to #2 since the rest of our class failed and I’ve taken too many extra classes,” you say, “I only cared about you,”

Kiyoomi smiles at you before crushing you in his hug.

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Especially now, his feelings for you.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa x reader #hq angst #sakusa angst #haikyuu x reader angst #sakusa fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #raeworks #sakusa x reader angst

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pretty-little-mind33 · 1 year ago

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Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: You and Dave lose your virginity to each other.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: virgin!reader, virgin!dave, dave and reader are in college, swearing, beast/nipple play, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), praise, protected sex, penetrative sex

~ this was requested by multiple anons! enjoy! ~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

You can't help staring at Dave from where you lay on his bed. He's sitting at his desk, his back hunched and his eyes focused on his laptop screen as he finishes his Composition Lit paper.

You press your pencil further in your mouth, nibbling on the eraser as you're mesmerized by how his hands glide across the keyboard.

God, his hands.

You know if you stare any longer you'll drool all over your notebook so you force yourself to look down at your writing and continue what you came here to do—which is study.

"Finally," Dave mumbles after a while as he pushes himself away from his desk, his head tilting back and his curls falling away from his face. "That took forever," he whines and pushes up his glasses, turning to look at you from beneath his lashes.

Your stomach sinks so deliciously and your cheeks warm up.

You're so screwed.

You turn back to your work but you can feel him watching you. You hear the squeaky wheels of his chair as he wheels over to his bed and looks over your shoulder at your notebook.

"Want some help? I'm not that great at Calculus but," he chuckles nervously, "I can try and help you if you'd like?"

You look up, sitting up and pushing hair out of your face to look at your lovely boyfriend properly. He looks so cute staring at you like he is now, with his hair falling messily around his face and those big blue eyes his staring at you from behind his glasses like you're the most precious thing in the world. Your heart instantly melts.

"Sure, I have to do this—" You show him the problem and he moves closer. Ultimately, Dave decides he should sit next to you on the bed so he can see the notes better and your stomach feels all warm and fluttery when your knees eventually touch.

After a while, you're feeling too warm so you turn and pull off your sweatshirt, exposing the skin of your arms and stomach as your tank top lifts.

You can feel Dave's gaze on your stomach and you hide a smile. You face him again, having purposefully not worn a bra this morning and you flash him an innocent smile. Dave's eyes are locked onto your breasts and the way your nipples pebble under the white material.

"Wanna ditch math and touch my tits instead?" you ask a little bluntly and Dave's mouth almost falls open as a deep crimson blush adorns his cheeks. You push your notebook down on the floor and take Dave's shirt, pulling him in to press your lips on his.

He responds almost immediately, his hands finding your back and then your hair as he kisses you and your breasts press against his chest. Your mind feels hazy as you continue exploring his lips.

You have no clue how you've become so brazen with your desires but as you kiss him, you take Dave's hand and bring it up your stomach and then guide it around to one of your breasts.

Dave gasps and pulls his hand away, his eyes widening. You hadn't done more than kiss in the past and it was very obvious from the way he was blushing that he hadn't done much more than that with anyone.

You move to press his hand harder on your breast and smile up at him. "You okay, Davey?" you ask sweetly.

He looks like he's stopped working and no words are even forming in his mind, never mind leaving his mouth. He just nods, his cheeks a flaming red as his glasses fall lower onto his nose. His arm is tense and his hand isn't moving. You tilt your head and scoot closer to him.

You press your lips to his again, "It's okay, I want you to touch me," you whisper, giving him the verbal consent he clearly needs. You feel him squeeze your flesh, relaxing into the kiss a little.

Clumsily, you straddle his hips as your kiss becomes more wanton, more needy. You wrap your arms around him, his glasses hitting your nose so he takes them off and sets them on his desk.

He moans breathlessly when you capture his lips again and kiss him hungrily, your hands finding his cheeks as you dig your nails into his skin. "I like the sounds you make," you whisper in his ear, kissing behind his earlobe for a second and then moving down his jaw.

"Yeah?" Dave asks in his usual whiny voice, his eyes lidded when he pulls away and looks at you for reassurance.

"Mmhm," you nod and kiss him again, grinding against him as you use his surprisingly broad shoulders to steady yourself. You kiss him again, moaning into his mouth as his hands roam all over your curves. "Dave," you whimper into his ear and look at him, "Do you have a condom?"

His eyes go wide and his hands shake nervously as he looks around his room, "U-um yeah, i-in the drawer—but Y/n I- I've never," he stumbles with his words, avoiding your gaze as his foot twitches a little.

You caress a hand down his cheek and look at him reassuringly. "Me neither," you say, kissing his lips, "We can do this together, m'kay? It's normal that you're nervous, I'm nervous too," you smile and look down at him when you feel his boner pressing into your thigh. "But um, Dave, I really don't wanna be on top for my first time—"

Dave's eyes widen and he puts a hand on your back, scrambling to flip you over. "No, no of course," he mumbles as he moves you to position your bodies so he's sitting in between your thighs, your hair splayed on the pillow.

Dave must not realize how strong he is because as he positions you, you feel like a doll in his grip and it's the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

"Is this better?" he asks, hovering over you and reaching inside the drawer of his desk to fish out a condom he'd kept for future usage. You nod, eyes wide with lust and stomach in knots. You sit up and shed your tank top so you're only in your shorts and panties. You lay down and see that his eyes are transfixed on your nipples again.

"Davey," you whine and pout at him, "your turn," you gesture to his chest and he jumps a little, awkwardly nodding and taking off his shirt. Fuck, he has abs. "Okay, now kiss me," you whimper and he leans down to kiss you, using an arm over your head to steady you. You wrap your legs around him, your core pressed against his cock.

He feels much bigger than you'd anticipated.

You kiss for a while until Dave's hands find your breasts again and he rubs your nipples. You groan against him. You're so horny. He feels this too and lowers his pants as he positions himself. You hold his arm, "Wait, condom, and you have to open me up first," you remind him—especially now that you know he's not exactly small.

Embarrassing graces his features. "Right, sorry, honey," he whispers and sits back on his heels. He looks down at you nervously, not entirely sure what he should do. You glance at him and take his hand, bringing it to glide over your pussy. His fingers find your folds and you moan. Dave loves the sound because he explores you again. He's being extremely attentive to what you need from him.

You tense when he pushes a finger inside you and he looks at you, eyes round, "You okay?" he whispers and when you nod, he continues to touch you. You stifle your moans, squirming as your juices help the awkward feeling. You've never been much into penetration when you masturbate, so this is slightly foreign still.

You can see that Dave is humping the bed, his hips grinding into the mattress as he bites down on his lip to muffle his moans. He looks up at you, removing his hand as his eyes become glossy and needy as he asks for permission. Permission to use his mouth.

You nod and his lips attach yourself to your pussy. What he lacks in experience, he truly makes up for in enthusiasm because you're a moaning mess, pulling at his curls and clenching your hands in the sheets.

Just as you feel yourself reach your peak, you groan and pull him away as you tug on his hair. You look into his blue eyes, now glossy with need. "Need you, now." You pause. "Please," you whine, your hands grasping at Dave's arms.

He doesn't need to be asked twice as he moves up, pulling on the condom from his drawer. His breath is shaky as he positions himself against you again. You look him in the eyes, wrapping your legs around him as you nod.

He pushes in, groaning, and you clutch at his shoulders as you sigh. It feels weird and it hurts a little but Dave is gentle as he pants, "Are you okay?" You nod.

Very quickly, once Dave finds a rhythm, the pain turns into pleasure and his weight presses against you, his breath in your ear as he thrusts into you over and over, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you groan.

"I-I fuck– I l-love you," he groans, his hips hitting yours and you nod, lost in pleasure.

"Mmh- Dave," you whine as he very quickly (and with help from how well he'd opened you up with his fingers and tongue) makes you come around him and moan into his neck, his curls tickling your skin.

"Shit," Dave groans, not lasting very long as he spills inside the condom and his arms give way. You groan as his forehead hits your chin and Dave's eyes widen.

He pulls himself up and out of you, panicking now. "Shit, shit, baby, did I hurt you?" he asks and carefully cups your chin in his hand.

You stare at him, chest heaving, and you laugh. Dave's concern shifts and he leans his forehead onto yours, catching his breath. "I'm sorry," he says, kissing your chin, smiling, and then he kisses your lips. You can tell he's also apologizing by default in case his performance was less than satisfactory.

You return his kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, your nipples skimming his bare chest as you lean into him. "It's okay. You did well. It was really good. I love you," you whisper honestly, your voice fluttering and the praise fills your boyfriend's chest with pride and love.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you grin, "Now c'mon, let's shower."

#dave lizewski #dave lizewski x fem!reader #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski fanfiction #dave lizewski blurb #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski imagine #dave lizewski kick ass #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson kick ass #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #dave 💚

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nemisuki · 6 months ago

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A Special Day

Dating AU | You never felt the need to celebrate this 'special' day every year. But time it's different, the first year with your explosive boyfriend. And seems like he thinks differently.

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, no angst, aged up, oneshot, bkg is a softie, gift giving, 1.3k word count

"So do you have any plans tomorrow?"

The sound of his voice breaks the silence between you two. The only other noise being the scribbles of her pencil and flipping of paper.

Her eyes don't break away from the math problem in her notebook, the source of her misery for the past 10 minutes.

In response to his question, the girl exhales a short hum while erasing her failed attempt of multiplication, "Not really."

A small pout begins to form on her face as she concentrates on the equation.

What sane person puts letters in math?

Listening to her reply, his eyebrows furrow with slight confusion, his hand pausing from completing the assignment in front of him.

He takes this opportunity to pause his studies, leaning back in his chair to stretch his limbs.

A small sigh exiting his mouth as he stands up to lift his arms over his head to give relief to his aching muscles.

"It's your birthday, don't ya want a party or go out to eat?"

At his movement, she takes a peek in his direction.

Her gaze roaming his backside - noticing the outline of his back muscles from that tank top he's wearing.

The combination of his shirt and the grey sweatpants loosely hanging on his waist was deadly.

It's even worse that he is completely unaware of the effect it has on her.

Seeing him take a break gave her an excuse to do the same.

She props herself off his bed with her elbows, now sitting up on the edge of his mattress with a small yawn, "Not really. I don't usually celebrate it."

"Like at all?" he turns back to look at her, noting the aloof expression on her face.

"I mean maybe when I was younger but not anymore.”

He examines her body language intensely, only to find no signs of discomfort.

So she really doesn’t want to celebrate huh.

I mean he understands, he wasn’t one to care about his own birthday either.

He steps closer to plop down beside her, looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “we should call it a night.”

“Yeah I should head back to my dorm now” she smiles, looking at how the moonlight accentuates his features, only enhancing the vision beside her.

“Just sleep over” he mumbles, already moving to lay down on his bed. Making room for her as he scoots towards the wall.

“And your roommate?”

“Shitty hair said he’s crashing at Raccoon eyes dorm. So turn off the lamp and come over here yeah?”

She couldn’t help but to laugh at his blunt demands, reaching over to shut off the lamp then resting beside him in an instant.

There's no way she'll let an opportunity like this go to waste.

With that, the blonde drapes the blanket over the two, looking almost offended that she didn't wrap her hands around him like she always does.

He isn't one for physical touch but he's gotten used to hers.

She seems to feel his stare and immediately scoots closer to curl up beside him, leaning her face into his chest.

Thankfully dismissing all his dramatic thoughts in an instant.

He wraps his arms around her torso to hold her close, "Real tired. Gonna sleep now, night."

"Mhm good night 'suki. I love you" she whispers back, closing her eyes to relish in his warmth.

A feeling she loves all too well.

"....love you too" he replies after a few seconds. Before his eyes fall close, allowing himself to drown in the feeling of her presence.

Already knowing what he must do tomorrow.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Her eyes squint in response to the distant sound of raining pattering outside the window.

The once dark room is now filled with morning light peeking through cracks in the curtain.

A groan escaping her as she rubs her eyes awake, attempting to fight the invisible force that's trying to pull her back to eternal sleep.

Though under the covers, she shivers at the chilly room she's woken up too. Expecting to be tangled under the covers with her favorite blonde, yet is only faced with an imposter - a pillow taking his place.

It takes her a few minutes of mindlessly staring at the ceiling for her to sit up, but only due to the sound of the door slowly creaking open.

His figure comes into view as he closes the door behind him, placing a mysterious bag on his desk as he takes off his coat and tucks his umbrella away, "You just woke up?"

"Yeah just now. Where'd you go?" she tilts her head, ruling out the option that he had class since he doesn't have his bag.

She stands up and begins approaching him but he holds his hand up, making her pause in her tracks.

"Close your eyes for a minute" he mumbles quietly, all of a sudden avoiding her questioning gaze.

Despite her confusion, she doesn't ask to investigate further as her eyes flutter shut.

"Don't peek or I'll kill ya."

An amused smile appears on her face at his snarky comment, "I won't but if you don't hurry up I might fall back asleep."

The sound of rustling was heard in the room, as well as a small clicking sound shortly after.

"Can I look now?"

"No."

"What about now?"

"I told you already, not yet!"

Laughter escapes her as she impatiently waits, fidgeting her fingers as she hears him step closer.

"...Alright you can open them now."

She hums and her eyes slowly open, slightly squinting to adjust to the light of the room once again.

Once done, she looks ahead of her and is met with an overwhelming sight. Complete shock taking over her face.

Bakugo is standing there, holding up a small birthday cake with lit candles on top.

Her heart thumps louder in her chest, so much so that it almost drowns out the noise of rain happening outside the room.

And she wonders if he can hear it too.

"I uh... know what you said yesterday but it just-" he holds the cake closer to her face, "didn't feel right to me."

Her gaze roams across the cake, pretty cursive letters in frosting spelling out 'Happy Birthday Y/N' on the surface. Along with her favorite pieces of fruit scattered around the edges.

"You didn't have to" she mumbles, a thankful smile taking over her face the more she stares at the cake.

"Well I wanted to. Now blow out the candles, nerd."

Holding back a laugh, she takes a moment to look at him, "Not gonna sing for me?"

"Hah! In your dreams maybe. Hurry up would ya? My arms getting tired here" he rolls his eyes at her teasing, the tip of his ears turning a soft pink from embarrassment.

She holds back a wide smile and blows out the candles before he grows more shy.

"What flavor is it?"

"You're favorite one, obviously" he huffs, stepping away to set the cake down on his desk.

As her gaze lingered on him, a sudden feeling took over her whole body.

She notices the small puddle forming under his wet shoes, a mini bouquet of her favorite flowers resting in a vase he must've bought earlier and a gift bag carefully placed on the sidelines.

Katsuki Bakugo hates the rain. Avoids it at all costs.

Yet he willingly went out in this downpour to buy her these things.

Ah....

"Oi do you want a one slice or-"

His words falter when her hands suddenly wrap around his waist from behind. Her face resting against his back, not wanting him to see as silent tears trickle down her cheeks.

"Thank you Katsuki."

He stays silent, feeling the back of his shirt grow damp from her quiet cries.

A sigh exits his mouth as he prys her hands away, spinning around to hold her close to his chest. Rubbing her back in gentle circles and whispering rare words of reassurance.

"Yeah yeah let it all out. I got ya" he mumbles, knowing exactly how to calm her down.

She just needs him there to hold her as he always does.

And he'll stick around - for her.

"Happy Birthday Y/N."

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

A/N ||| hey hey everyone! It's actually my birthday today so I quickly wrote this up hehe. Sorry if it's a bit choppy, this was rushed. Anywaysss I finally made a taglist - so if you want to get tagged in my bakugo fics then click on this link!

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chrissv4mp · 5 months ago

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♱ STUDY SESH

billie shouldn't feel this way. not about you, and especially not about your fingers that were currently gripping the pencil in your hand as you wrote down notes for an upcoming math test. it was a casual motion, and it wasn't supposed to be arousing at all.

but, in billie's twisted mind, the gentle grip you had made her stomach flip in every different direction.

and you were quick to catch on. it was obvious with the way her eyes stayed glued onto your lengthy fingers whenever you turned to tell her you were ready to move on, and the second that you told her to stop so you could write, her eyes would already be locked onto your hands.

so now, here you were: your knees digging into the hardwood floor, one hand holding billie's thigh open while the other held her waist as you leaned closer and closer to her warm, sopping cunt.

it was torture the way you teased her, your fingers dancing along the skin of her inner thigh only to pull away and pout at her mockingly. she was on the verge of tears.

"jus' one? i'll—please, i'll..." billie's voice trails off, cutting off into a whine when you drag your fingers along her inner thigh.

her eyes never leave you, glasses crooked on the bridge of her nose as she sniffles. she tries to blink back the tears brimming in her eyes, but it's no use because as soon as she gains the smallest amount of control of herself, your fingers are running through her puffy folds, slick with her sticky arousal.

"oh my god," billie whines, voice barely a whisper as her pussy clenches around nothing, back arching away from the couch cushions, "ohmygodohmygod."

you don't pay her any mind, simply smiling and dragging your fingers through her sensitive folds once again. you give her a few more strokes before you hear her frustrated whine.

"ma—mama, i—i can't," she cries softly, face red and tears beginning to run down her cheeks, "n'more teasin'. please."

her hands stay at her sides, pushing at the pillows just to pull them back so hard that her knuckles bleed white. she didn't wanna mess up your pretty hair, even if you were starting to get her all worked up and frustrated.

when you finally look up into her eyes with hooded ones, her lips part even wider, and before she can stop it, she feels the knot in her stomach snap.

you gasp softly, eyes widening in the slightest as you watch billie's cum leak from her pretty cunt and onto your fingers, dripping down her folds and soaking the couch cushions. you couldn't even imagine the conversation she'd need to have with her parents later.

"i—oh my god, what—i..." you don't reply, staying silent despite the sticky feeling between your own thighs growing wetter and wetter the more you look at your tutor—and nerdy best friend.

she looks like a beautiful mess. her hair was a mess from all the squirming, her glasses even more crooked than before, and her face stained with tear streaks. you couldn't even be mad at her.

"i didn't even get to touch you properly, bil." you coo, frowning up at her as you retract your hand from between her trembling legs, "you're just that sensitive, huh?"

billie doesn't know what to say, her lips opening and closing like she has something to say but she doesn't know how to say it. she feels her heart skip a beat whenever you bring your fingers up to your mouth and slowly push them past your plump, pink lips.

the action is so dirty, something she'd never seen before, but she wanted to see it a million times more. the way you thrust your fingers in and out of your mouth, it makes her heart race and her pussy wet. even more than before.

"still wanna feel you 'round my fingers." you murmur against your digits, pulling them out from between your lips with a 'pop'. the confused look on the poor girls' face is enough to make you laugh.

"isn't that what you wanted in the first place, hon?"

billie's heart feels like it stops whenever your palm lands against her cunt in a sharp, harsh slap. it's enough to make fresh tears swell in her eyes, but it's also enough to make the knot in her stomach tighten again.

"don't start cryin' again," you coo, but really, her mewls and weak whimpers are music to your ears.

"'m'sorry." billie cries, shaking her head, "jus'—please, don't—no more." she begs, but the desperation still swirling in her eyes tells you otherwise.

so, you finally push one of your digits into billie's tight hole, and by the quiet squeak that you hear from the nerdy girl, you know she's already feeling full.

guess you needed to stretch her out.

LETTERS. this is all i can give you guys right now 😓 i've been super unmotivated this past month, and it might be due to some things in my personal life or simply just because i really don't feel like writing recently. but i promise i'll be back on my grind & will start to dig into my drafts sometime. seasonal depression is really hitting hard, so i'm sorry i haven't been very active :( i love you all soso much!!! 🤍

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @moralesluvr @justtr @greenbttrflyy @bilslovebot @natbelovasblog @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @fawninlove @meliciousmel13

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sumiieon · 4 months ago

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✦ Chiming Bell ノ MODERN! High school hcs with the Chrysos Heir because I love them so much ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 1780 ✦ Note ; The usual grammar error and spelling mistakes warning ⸝⸝ if they come across as ooc then I apologize because I'm still not very confident in my ability of writing HSR characters haha ⸝⸝ This can be interpreted as both romantic and platonic as your liking! ⸝⸝ will probably edit out some mistakes ⸝⸝ I'm very sorry for not including Hyacine TT

♡ Phainon ⸝⸝ I feel like he's kind of a jock BUT also not a jock. Like, he's not THOSE jocks that get angry at you if you cannot catch the ball that is beaming at 1000 mph to your face. ⸝⸝ Those popular kids that are actually super nice to everyone. I feel like he doesn't judge people much and if he does dislike someone, will not rub it in their face unless they deserve to. ⸝⸝ Basically just a ray of sunshine. Definitely has Mydei as his seatmate and I just imagine Phainon walking into class greeting everyone every morning and then Mydei is just sitting there massaging his temple, wondering how he's so bright this early. ⸝⸝ While he's generally super nice, I think Phainon is also pretty mischievous though. I can already imagine him getting into some light troubles and then having to sweep the hallway as a punishment LMAO. ⸝⸝ Probably enjoys learning history and literature, he just gets super sleepy and perhaps bored in them. Decent at math but HORRIBLE at science like chemistry. Phainon comes up to Mydei as lab partner and Mydei prays the two of them don't get involved in any sorts of explosion or chemical accident /j ⸝⸝ When Phainon is pinning on you, he will 100% turn into a golden retriever. Follows you around in a non-creepy way, helps you carry stuff, probably tries tutoring you the best he could, sometimes ask to have lunch together and then drags you to the rest of his friends. ⸝⸝ Gets super shy about it and it didn't escape his friends. Also gets not bullied but teased a lot for it, when you walked past them far enough, I feel like most likely Mydei would go "holy shit is that Phainon's lover walking past by just now?!" ⸝⸝ When he announced that the two of you are dating to his friends, they would hold their pearl necklace and pretend like they're shocked (except it's so purposefully exaggerated it's hilarious wow Phainon you're so slick!) ♡ Aglaea ⸝⸝ I hc'd that the Chrysos Heir is basically akin to the Student Council in the modern world, so expect no less that Aglaea is definitely the president or at the VERY least the vice president. ⸝⸝ That one strict classmate who always looks her best and behaves the best too. Probably a class president or rep too?? Would reprimand her classmates or the other students to mind both their attire and attitude. ⸝⸝ Teacher's pet, except she's one that you can't really walk over or trample. Girl just has that aura in her for not only being smart but also beautiful?!?! (My GOAT Aglaea as always) ⸝⸝ Looks scary at first glance, but if you need her help with studying she would help say no more! That one meme that goes like "would you let me copy your homework?" "no, but I'll help you with it" ⸝⸝ This may sound pretty personal and specific but hc that she excels and enjoys public speaking. Her words and articulations are probably amazing if you get what I mean... ⸝⸝ Honestly, if she is pinning on you? Nobody would pretty much find out about it unless she personally said so. I'm sorry but Aglaea strikes off to me as the type to be super good at hiding aka slick with her feelings for someone. (Ironically for being the bearer of Mnestia's coreflame in lore lol) ⸝⸝ So when she told her friends that you two are dating, their surprise is actually real and pure. ⸝⸝ It's still noticeable though subtle tho! Aglaea will be extra mindful of you and will no doubt worry about your grades and your performance. Would help you study even if it takes time say less! ♡ Mydei

⸝⸝ Similarly to Phainon, seems like a jock but isn't too much of a jock once you get to know about him. I think it's pretty much just a first impression since he's physically well built and healthy. For someone with his looks, Mydei is a pretty quiet and calm seatmate, ones targeted by people who is just full on comical nonsense (Trailblazer for instance…. They're so stupid I love them).

⸝⸝ Seemingly messy appearance (that slightly loose collar and messily tied tie fix that rn Mydei i hate hastily tied tie and sometimes spends 5 minutes redoing it if I couldn't get it right sobs), but is actually very discipline and a pretty decent student. Also hc that he uses reading glasses.

⸝⸝ Bluddy is probably the first to arrive at class and is usually pretty punctual with a few exceptions being made. Definitely that one friend who sleeps early and wakes up early. Probably lets you copy his homework just so you can get off his ass.

⸝⸝ Excels at history, terrible at math, probably decent at chemistry??? Hear me out though, he's terrible at math and physics but he's interested in them so it's kind of a party pooper LAMFAO (self projecting). Mydei doesn't hate it, he probably just doesn't understand it.

⸝⸝ Those type of guys that people are scared of because of his appearance, but is actually good with juniors. He helps them with studying and getting the subject's concept wrapped around their head and somehow patient for a man that doesn't look like he has patience at all.

⸝⸝ When Mydei pins on you, he won't look nor act THAT much different around you. If you're a much more comical or hilarious kind of person, he endures and tolerates you more. He will offer more lending hands though; for instance, explaining things you don't understand more, willingly tutors you, sneaks gifts into your desk or locker and then softly denies it when questioned (you're not slick bro.)

⸝⸝ Mydei doesn't announce it if you two are dating, rather, his friends found out on their own by the slight flush on his face when he's around you and the way his fierce eyes seemed to simmer down a little when you're around.

♡ Castorice

⸝⸝ SUPER quiet and probably finds it hard to communicate all the time. The reason people know her is mostly because she's apart of the Student Council, but that aside, she's also super kind and nice!

⸝⸝ Hangs around Aglaea a lot and acts as her 'assistant' or similar. Also a teacher's pet except on the more mellow side and one that even the meanest of the mean doesn't have the heart to mock.

⸝⸝ She probably could be vice president.. But that's just a rough gut and because I see her as one. Also reprimands her classmates and other students to be mindful of their attire and attitude.

⸝⸝ Generally good at any subjects given, but I hc that Castorice really likes art and music classes. The atmosphere is quieter and much more peaceful that even her mind could rest a little. Definitely joins clubs like sewing club.

⸝⸝ Sometimes sleeps on recess because I see her as those super-tired looking type of people who can doze off while standing but refrains on doing so in classes. Due to this, probably picks the seat closer to the window to hide away from the lights at the center of the class.

⸝⸝ When Castorice pins on you, she will subtly get super shy around you. Sometimes stutters on her speech and is extra polite at you much to the awkwardness. Be prepared for cuteness overload!!

⸝⸝ Castorice definitely makes things for you! A small crochet plush, flower crowns, or some fake flowers that reminds her of you. Surfs into flower language to express her affection to you by making said flowers for you!

⸝⸝ Castorice would reluctantly yet shyly declares her love for you one random evening, and the rest of the Chyrsos Heir is totally NOT spying at you two from behind some bushes. ♡ Anaxa

⸝⸝ This man is canonically a professor according to the in-game lore what else do I need to say??

⸝⸝ That one smart kid who's super snarky and sarcastic. If you think Mydei is pretty sarcastic for someone, then behold Anaxagoras and his sharp yet elegant tongue that totally does not remind me of a certain doctor.

⸝⸝ He definitely no doubt enjoys subjects science related. Chemistry, physics, biology, name it. Yet nobody really dares to approach him and ask him to be their lab partner due to, again, the aura that surrounds him. You feel like you're shrinking per second you stand next to him if you don't know anything about him. Also hc that he enjoys scientific debates.

⸝⸝ He probably goes overseas to attend science olympics like a lot, and obviously comes back with victory by his side. He's probably academic rivals with Aglaea haha. I can just see them competing for the school's 1st place.

⸝⸝ Anaxa gets avoided by plenty people because of his personality, but he doesn't pay any mind nor does he care about it. After all, his only interest currently is knowledge, isn't it..?

⸝⸝ Well that's until you, who doesn't seem to be that much avoidant of him, came along to his life. Anaxa is that one person that goes deep into denial when he has feelings for someone. "NO. WDYM I HAVE FEELINGS FOR THEM. FUCK."

⸝⸝ The rest of the Chrysos Heir found out about this when one random day, Anaxa suddenly came up to Hyacine and started asking her questions related to feelings that are leaning a little bit tooooo much on the romantic side (much to his dismay and denial). Even with his denial, he found himself coming up to the pink haired girl and asking her about this… Very foreign feeling of what she described as "butterflies fluttering in his stomach" and a suspiciously big grin on her face.

⸝⸝ Like Phainon, Anaxa doesn't escape the constant teasing from the Chrysos Heir for this, mainly Aglaea. She will devilishly giggle into her fingertips and make subtle jabs at him when she talks to you; "[name], do you have just any idea how breathtaking you are?" while giving Anaxa looks to which he responded with not only a glare but a suspiciously burning pair of ear tips <3

#fleuriion #writing #hsr #honkai star rail #mydei x reader #mydei x y/n #hsr mydei #phainon x reader #phainon x y/n #hsr phainon #aglaea x reader #hsr aglaea #castorice x reader #hsr castorice #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa #x reader #hsr x reader

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honeyscara · 1 month ago

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Chapter 5

Sieun tutor masterlist | whc masterlist

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Cw: things just get a little suggestive and intense

Somehow, everything quietly fell back into rhythm. You didn’t bring up the almost-kiss. Neither did Sieun.

But the air between you two felt different now. You still met up at the café or your place for those “study” sessions. The books were open, sure, but half the time the two of you ended up sitting in a quiet kind of comfort, heads tilted toward the same page, knees brushing every so often like it wasn’t a big deal.

You got closer with the rest of the group, too. Baku would check in on you now and then, either through texts or casually bumping into you near your school gate. He even introduced you to Juntae properly the next time you hung out at that same café you met him and Gotak in.

“Hey,” Baku had grinned, nudging the quiet boy beside him, “This is the girl I told you about...you know..Sieun’s—.” You nudged him hard before he finished what he was about to say.

Juntae gave you a shy nod. “I’ve heard... a lot.”You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.

Eventually, it became a little routine. On weekends, you'd meet up—sometimes all five of you, sometimes just Baku and Gotak grabbing late-night snacks with you near the bus stop, or Juntae sending you memes at 2am with zero context. It was… nice. A strange little found-family sort of nice.

But with Sieun—it was different.

You’d be sitting in your room, the hum of the ceiling fan above, your voice quietly explaining a math formula he already knew. And just when you’d be packing up to leave, he’d pull something out of his bag—your favorite drink, or a slice of cake from that tiny bakery you once mentioned in passing.

“I walked past it on the way here,” he’d say, not meeting your eyes, pretending it was nothing.

But his ears were a little pink. And your heart always beat a little faster.

You’d take it with a quiet thank-you, fingers brushing his just slightly, and in that small moment—sweet and soft—you’d know. He cares about you.

Today was just like any other study session or so you thought. It was supposed to be normal. Notes, maybe some quiet bickering over who solved a question faster, and then heading home before sunset. But there was a weight in your chest the whole day, ever since Sieun texted you:

"Can you come over after school? I need to tell you something."

The message hadn’t seemed dramatic. But knowing him, it was impossible not to feel nervous.

You were already running late, and of course, it had to pour just as you got off the bus. The rain had caught you halfway down his street, and by the time you reached his door, your clothes were damp and your hair stuck to your skin in a way that made you shiver.

Sieun opened the door before you even knocked.

His brows furrowed at the sight of you. “You’re soaked.”

“I tried to run,” you mumbled, stepping inside, “But the mud had other plans.”

Without a word, he turned and walked into his room, returning a few seconds later with a hoodie—his hoodie. He held it out toward you with a calm expression, but his ears were just a little red.

“Change,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ll get you a towel too.”

You accepted it gratefully and ducked into his room. The scent of laundry detergent clung to the hoodie, but so did something softer—something undeniably him. You slipped off your wet clothes and wore the hoodie.

It wasn’t oversized.

In fact, it fit just right, maybe even a little short on the sleeves and hem. You stared at your reflection in surprise. It wasn’t unwearable, but it definitely wasn’t long enough. You tugged it down instinctively.

Just then, there was a light knock on the door.

“Hey,” Sieun’s voice came through, muffled, “I forgot you're a little taller... I got you a pair of sweatpants too.”

Your heart fluttered.

You cracked the door open just enough to take the folded pair from his hands. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, ears pink.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, before gently shutting the door and changing the rest of the way.

When you stepped into the living room, Sieun glanced up and this time, his eyes visibly paused.

He didn’t say anything, but you noticed it: the way he blinked once, then quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. A flicker of pink rose to his ears again.

“You good now?” he asked, quieter this time.

You gave a small nod, clutching the warm cup he’d already set on the table for you.

“Yeah. Thanks… for the clothes.” You sat beside him, the hoodie brushing lightly against his arm as you did.

He just hummed in response.

You took a sip of the water, trying to ease the heat in your chest. The hoodie still smelled like him. You could feel the slow rhythm of your heart thudding against your chest, louder in the silence between you both.

He hadn’t said much since you sat down. You let the quiet stretch for a while, but eventually, you turned slightly toward him, knees almost touching.

“So…” your voice was soft, hesitant. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sieun’s gaze dropped to his hands, which were loosely clasped in his lap. His thumb fidgeted, rubbing along the curve of his knuckle. For a moment, he didn’t respond.

You waited, watching the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly. That nervous, guarded expression was one you didn’t see often. He usually held himself with that cool indifference, like the world couldn’t touch him. But now, he seemed almost....scared.

Finally, he exhaled.

“My mom wants me to go abroad. To study.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

The glass in your hands tilted ever so slightly, and a few droplets of water spilled over the rim. You nearly dropped it. You quickly set it back on the table with a small, clumsy clink before staring at him in disbelief.

“What…?” The word barely left your lips.

Sieun still wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were locked on the floor, jaw tense. His fingers curled slightly into his palm.

“She said it’d be better. More opportunities...A fresh start.”

Your throat tightened. A fresh start. Somewhere far away. Somewhere without you. The thought twisted deep in your chest.

“Oh.” It was all you could manage at first.

He finally glanced at you, and the moment your eyes met, something in your expression made him falter. You hadn’t realized you were gripping the hem of his hoodie tightly in your fists until he looked down.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you whispered.

Sieun looked guilty, really guilty. He let out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

The words hit him harder than he expected. They were so soft — barely a whisper — but they carried so much hurt. And it was your voice. That same voice he’d grown to seek out in crowded rooms, the one that always reached him even when he pretended not to care.

Sieun stared at you.

He should’ve told you.

But how was he supposed to explain it?

That he didn’t want to leave? That he didn’t want to leave you?

That ever since that day — the day you cried in front of him, the day he wiped away your tears and almost kissed you — he hadn’t stopped thinking about you? That even in the quiet moments when you sat beside him during study sessions, scribbling notes or muttering to yourself, you made everything feel less heavy?

Sieun swallowed hard.

He couldn’t find the words. His throat felt tight, his head a mess of thoughts.

Would telling you change anything? Would it make it worse when he had to go?

Would it even matter?

God…

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t. His eyes just stayed locked on yours, and the longer he looked, the worse it got.

He didn’t want to lose this. Lose you.

You were still waiting. Still waiting for him to say something.

And then without giving himself another second to hesitate—

Sieun reached forward, grabbed your face gently but firmly in both hands, and pulled you in.

His lips met yours in a deep, desperate kiss.

It was slow at first — unsure— but when you didn’t pull away, when your breath hitched against his lips, something inside him broke loose.

His fingers curled in your hair, pulling you just a little closer. His other hand held the side of your face, thumb brushing lightly along your jaw, anchoring him in this moment.

You tasted like the faint sweetness of the drink you’d had earlier, but more than that, you tasted like something he was terrified to lose. Not again. He didn’t want to be separated from you too.

Sieun’s kiss deepened, his hands trembling just slightly as they moved from your face to rest gently on your waist. His touch was tentative, almost shy—like he was afraid to cross a line but couldn’t help himself. Your breath hitched as his fingers traced light, careful patterns along the curve of your side, sending a thrilling warmth through your body.

You shifted closer, heart pounding, your own hands finding his chest as if to anchor yourself in the moment. His lips parted just enough to let yours explore slowly, every brush feeling electric and full of promise. His shyness was palpable, eyes flickering nervously to yours whenever you made a move, silently asking if this was okay.

You smiled softly against his mouth, whispering reassurance in the only way you could—by leaning in and capturing his lips again, deeper, more confidently. Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, encouraging him without words.

One of his hands slid slowly from your waist up beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin—hesitant at first, then bolder when he felt the way you leaned into his touch.Your breath caught again as his thumb stroked lightly along your side. The sensation was almost maddening in its softness. You let your own hands wander, slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie to feel the heat of him—the dip of his waist, the strong line of his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out a quiet, shaky breath against your lips, forehead tipping gently to yours.

Just as his hand slid a little lower, exploring the small of your back, the sharp ring of the doorbell shattered the intimacy like a sudden splash of cold water. Both of you froze, eyes wide and breaths caught.

Sieun pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed a deep pink as you both heard the familiar voices of Gotak and Juntae from outside.

You barely had time to pull away before your mind went into full-on panic mode. Your heart was racing, cheeks burning hot as you scrambled to fix yourself.

“Shit, what do we do? They'll see me” you whispered urgently, eyes wide as you watched Sieun hesitantly move toward the door.

He lingered there, hand hovering over the lock, clearly debating whether to let Gotak and Juntae in or not. You could almost hear your own frantic thoughts echoing in your head.

Suddenly, Gotak’s voice came through the intercom, a little annoyed but playful: “Sieun, come on, we wanna hang out! And seriously, why weren’t you answering your phone? And have you heard from y/n? She wasn’t picking up either!”

Sieun sighed and, after a brief pause, unlocked and opened the door.

Gotak barged in, muttering under his breath, “Dude, why weren’t you picking up? And why’d you take so long to open the door? And y/n wasn’t picking up too”

Juntae followed, both of them scanning the living room—and then their eyes landed on you.

You, sitting on Sieun’s couch, wrapped in his hoodie and sweatpants... The room instantly dropped into a heavy, awkward silence.

Gotak’s mouth twitched as he struggled to hide his surprise, while Juntae’s eyes flicked back and forth between you two, trying to process the unexpected scene. You swallowed hard, cheeks flaming hotter than ever as Sieun stood beside you, looking equally flustered but trying to play it cool.

The moment stretched, thick with tension, before Gotak finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a low, teasing chuckle.

“Well damn, I didn’t realize I was interrupting a K-drama finale!” he announced, hand over his heart. “Are we in season two already? What did I miss? A confession? A kiss? A steamy s–”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it straight at him. “GOTAK YOU–!”

He let it hit him full-force, dramatically stumbling back “THIS IS ABUSE. I was right all along!”

You groaned and covered your face with your hands, but you were laughing despite the burn in your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Sieun and Juntae stood frozen like NPCs that hadn’t been given a script.

Sieun cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact, while Juntae shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Sooo,” Juntae finally said, glancing between you and Sieun, “we actually came to, like... hang out. That’s still allowed, right?”

You peeked out from behind your fingers. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Hangout. Let’s do that. Please. Now.”

Gotak raised an eyebrow. “You trying to escape the scene of the crime?”

You kicked another pillow toward him. “You want me to throw the couch next?”

He held up both hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up! Dang, you’re violent when flustered.”

Still red-faced but determined to salvage the day, you stood up and dusted off your borrowed clothes. “Let’s all go out to the basketball area,” you said, shooting a look at Sieun. “Fresh air. Move around. Burn off some of this awkwardness.”

Sieun gave you the tiniest grateful nod while Juntae exhaled like he'd been holding his breath since walking in.

“Sounds good,” Juntae said quickly.

“Basketball court?” Gotak grinned, hopping to his feet. “Cool, cool”

You ignored him and walked to grab your phone from the counter, muttering, “I should’ve punched you.”

Behind you, Sieun quietly handed you your shoes with a small smile. You met his eyes briefly—and though neither of you said anything, your pink faces said plenty.

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