#we have topic papers and summary papers for this class

[moesthoughts]

my aching bones | the pilot ( photo 01 )

chapter summary : you finally sign up for the stupid photography gig to take pictures for the yellow jackets girls’ soccer team, if taking action shots at their first practice was already awkward enough, being forced to introduce yourself to the team was worse.

warnings : bullying, topics of loneliness, drug use, homophobia, mental health issues, addiction

next

You curse at yourself as you practically sign away your life in Mr. Martinez’s office.

You can’t believe your parents convinced you to do something with your hobby you aren’t even that good at, Photography. You enjoy your free will with your shots, but now that you have to take action shots and team photos for the Yellow Jackets girl’s soccer team, you can kiss that creative freedom goodbye. You place the pen you were given down onto the desk, not caring to read the contract you just signed. Probably not the smartest decision you’ve made. The man in front of you smiles at you, before taking the clipboard and pen away from you.

“We appreciate your help, miss. We’ve been in need of a photographer.”

He chuckles, tapping the pen onto the wood. You can only muster up a small smile, awkwardly shuffling between your feet. Little did he know you were doing this completely against your will. Your eyes wander towards the family photos littered across his office, Travis and Javi Martinez. Pretty weird kids, if you could even judge. Travis was a complete asshole, but Javi was a sweet little kid. You mentally prepare yourself, knowing you’ll have to deal with them both somewhere down the line.

“No need to thank me, sir. I just wanted to expand on my hobby.”

You realize you didn’t reply to him earlier, you try to sound professional. You kick the carpet on the floor as he laughs again. He always seems so serious on the field, why is he so carefree now? Probably because he wants to love bomb you into staying for the rest of senior year, you still can’t believe you’re wasting your supposedly chill year on a soccer team. You haven’t done an extracurricular for your entire high school career, why does that have to change this year? You enjoy your alone time, at least you think you do.

“It’s Coach to you now. The girls have practice tomorrow, why don’t you stay after and test the waters?”

Coach Martinez smiles, and you press your lips together. Tomorrow is when you officially start taking pictures for the school paper, that everyone looked at.. You pick up your bag from the chair beside you and bottle up your worries. You mutter a ‘see you tomorrow’ and leave the room. You shuffle awkwardly across the locker room which was thankfully empty for today, you’re already dreading tomorrow.

It’s the last class of the day, and you’ve about had it with the constant comments from Randy. You bury your face into your hands after the third remark about how you dress, you’d yell at him if you weren’t already worrying about the event after this class. All you want is a moment to think before you have to take pictures of girls like a creep, it’s enough that people throw insults at you for being ‘gay’. You never want to confirm or deny.

“I mean, you dress like a butch—“

“Randy, just fuck off already.”

Your head turns in the direction of the new voice, it’s Taissa Turner. You’re shocked, to say the least. She’s never once stood up for you when Randy picked on you, you’re not sure what sparked this change suddenly. To be honest, you believed she was even meaner than Randy. The boy scoffs and leaves you alone, you stare at her dumbfounded. She looks back at you, equally confused.

“You’re welcome?”

Taissa speaks up, a smile pulling on her lips. You snap out of your confused daze and give her one back, going back to the worksheet on your desk. Today is going to be so weird. You grip your camera that’s been in your lap the whole class. Instead of paying attention to calculus, you were busy making sure you had enough film, that your lens wasn’t smudged, and that it still functioned correctly. All the boxes have been checked, it was time to prepare yourself for after school. To brave the overwhelming social anxiety that plagues your body every day. You squeeze your eyes shut once the bell rings, and the thing you’ve been trying to forget about for the whole day is finally here.

The tips of your shoes dig into the ground as you stand next to Coach Martinez, who is watching Coach Scott make some kind of welcome speech. You notice some girls aren’t taking it very seriously, you assume it’s because it’s not their first year. Among the girls whispering to each other, one catches your eye the most. The prettiest bleach blonde hair, eyeliner so dark around her eyes, red-tinted lips with the cutest smile. You tear your eyes away from her once you dive too deep into your thoughts. You put your camera up to your eye and wink, taking a picture of the group sitting around the Coach. It was an aesthetic shot, you know you did well when Coach Martinez praises you for your good eye.

Some of the girls look over to the sound of your camera shutter, exchanging confused looks. You slowly start to understand that this idea wasn’t disclosed to the team, at least not yet. Your nerves get the best of you, your fight-or-flight response screaming at you to just bolt away. You don’t, instead braving the odd stares you’re getting, you notice Taissa Turner is among them. You curse yourself under your breath. The bleach blonde’s eyes linger on you the longest, her tongue pressing on her cheek while she looks you up and down. You quickly avert your eyes back to the man making the speech, a pink color kissing your cheeks.

You’re not sure if she meant to stare at you that long, but it’s on your mind for the whole practice, while you’re taking pictures, your camera pans to her. Your eyes linger on her longer than the other girls, who knew one look could completely make you crumble? You take a deep breath and finally focus on getting shots of the other girls on the team, not just that blonde beauty. You kiss your new roll of film goodbye with all the pictures you've taken; you finally put your camera down. You feel satisfied with your first photoshoot; you absolutely were not counting, but you had enough photos so the team could pick which ones they liked and disliked. Coach Scott snaps you out of your daze. He taps your shoulder and motions you to come with him. You bite the inside of your cheek, trailing behind him nervously. You finally notice you're heading towards the circle of girls, and your stomach sinks down into the pits of your body.

You stand in front of the team who surrounds you in a semi-circle, you gulp as your head turns around to see all of their eyes trained on you. Your ripped Converse dug into the turf under you anxiously, and your fingers wrap around the cloth of your sweater. Your head turns to Coach Scott expectantly, and he stares at you for a moment before sighing.

"So, as you might not know. This year, a photographer will be at our practices taking pictures for the school paper."

Introductions have never been your strong suit. In fact, it might be the thing you're worst at. You take a deep breath, thinking about what you could possibly say. You don't want to overcomplicate it either, you finally speak, your name being the first thing to come out of your mouth.

"—and I am a.. senior this year. yep. Um, and I'll be taking pictures of you guys, I guess."

You internally face-palm once you finish. Hearing the girls giggle around you softly is the thing that pushes you to your breaking point. You shift onto both your feet before flashing everyone a smile and then running away. As you're grabbing your bag, you hear one of the coaches calling out for you. You're too embarrassed to turn back now.

You lie on your back, the cold of the hood on your car stinging your exposed skin. You can only think about how badly you fucked up back at the soccer field as you take a drag of your cigarette. The awkwardness surrounding your introduction, you couldn't even prepare yourself for. You picture their eyes practically staring into your soul. What else were you supposed to say? That your life sucks, and that you don't even want to do this stupid photography thing? Of course not!

"Hey."

You gasp and hide your cigarette, stupidly coughing out smoke and waving it away frantically. Your eyes rest on the source of the voice, that gorgeous fake blonde. She laughs as you look around the area, wondering if she was actually speaking to you or not. You feel like you’re in some cheesy romantic 80s’ movie, something you haven’t felt in a while. You scoot over so she can sit next to you.

“You don’t seem like the smoking type.”

She smirks, her eyes not leaving yours. You let out a nervous giggle and lift up the cigarette from behind your legs, there’s no point in hiding it anyway. You hope that your problem won’t drive her away, you only do it when you’re stressed.. which is almost everyday. You take another puff, offering it to her. You aren’t surprised when she takes up your offer, taking a long drag.

“A lot of people say that.”

An over exaggeration, only about two people have said that to your face, including the girl beside you. She hands your cigarette back to you, blowing out the smoke that previously filled her mouth. She seems like she’s thinking carefully, that only makes you even more antsy. It’s obvious, from the way you’re bouncing your leg, looking at everything but her, like it’s the first time you’ve seen the shitty school parking lot. She nudges you with a smile, making you put your attention back on her.

“My name is Nat.“

She starts, a faint accent coating her voice. You’re practically drinking in every word that falls out of her pretty mouth, addicted to the sound. You hum in response, putting the cigarette back up to your lips. Another thing you’re horrible at, continuing conversation. You’re shocked that she hasn’t gotten frustrated and left you alone at your car yet, like everyone else you’ve tried getting to know. She stays, the short amount of silence not being awkward, but nice.

“Uh— Ignore the assholes that laughed at you, most of them are nice when they want to be.”

You’re reminded of the events that took place recently, smoke blowing out of your lips. You don’t blame them for laughing, your bones were practically rattling from how much you were shaking. You shrug, you don’t want to think about it too much. You always overthink anyway, you don’t want to waste anymore of your time.

“It’s fine, I’m only going to be taking photos of you guys anyways, I don’t know why he had me introduce myself.”

You reply, looking at Nat. It’s a cute name, you assume it’s short for Natalie. She smiles again once you make eye contact with her brown eyes, you can drown in the sight. You shrink under her gaze, so understanding. You wonder if she’s in the same boat as you. She didn’t dress like other girls in the school, her eyeliner harsher than others. You still think she’s so much cooler than you.

“Maybe it’s so we don’t think you’re a fucking creep.”

That sentence causes you both to break into laughter, you wave the smoke away from your face as you cough it out. Her laugh is heavy, it’s such a nice sound. You realize you’re already down bad for this girl, how willing she was to cuss, the dimples that show up on her face every time she smiles, and the tone she uses when speaking with you. It’s enchanting. Your artistic eye takes in all of her features, desperate to learn more about her.

You both snap out of your trance as you hear a girl call out Nat’s name, your eyes landing on a tall woman with curly brunette hair that falls past her shoulders, you recognize her as Lottie Matthews. The known rich girl of the school, she’s not as stuck up as her reputation makes her. Your attention goes to Nat as she groans, disappointment evident on her face. She picks up her bag and faces you with a smile.

“That’s my ride, I’ll see you at our next practice?”

You agree a bit too quickly, causing her to snort. She leaves your car and head over to Lottie, who looks like a deer in headlights. You take a drag out of your cigarette again, wanting to finish it before you start driving home. As the quiet settles in, you feel sad again. You didn’t even get Nat’s number, not that you’d be confident enough to ask her for it. You sigh, feeling that same emptiness takes place in your body. You want more of her, her laugh, her words. You’re desperate to learn more about her other than her name. Your bones ache with need, and your mind is heavy with curiosity.

It all started with one look.

synopsis ʚɞ your parents want you out of the house more, do something other than rot in your room while doing homework. You decide to use your photography talent for the school paper, taking pictures of the yellow jackets girl’s soccer team. Throughout your photoshoots of their various games, one girl piques your interest the most. Natalie Scatorccio.

a/n : AHH OKAY HII FINALLY FINISHED WITH THE FIRST PART.. I hope you guys like it so far, i’ve had this idea ever since i finished season one UGHHHHH

a/n : taglist is still open! lmk if you want to be added onto it 🤍

taglist — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @joaniscruzing @wtfisthisnoclueman @sleepyjackets @stupendousbananasharkcop

[pitchsidestories]

Lo que más duele II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1224

summary: Reader comforts Aitana with a little help from her primary school class after Barcelona loses the UWCL final against Arsenal. requested

author's note: Hi, we’d love to hear what you think and hope you find this an enjoyable read, even with the sad topic. 💙❤️

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

When the final whistle blew at the stadium in Lisbon and your girlfriend fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face, it broke your heart to see her so devastated.

The cameras captured it all devastation on one side, pure joy on the other. In that moment, it felt almost merciless.

As soon as you were allowed onto the pitch, you walked towards her.

 “I’m sorry we lost.”, Aitana whispered.

With an empathetic smile on your lips, you replied: “Tana...”

“We should have done better.”, she mumbled, her voice a mix of hurt and anger. They’d been the clear favourites chasing a third consecutive title and the pressure had been immense. But today, luck simply wasn’t on their side.

Everything would have sounded like a hollow phrase, so instead, you wrapped your arms around her. Quickly, Kika joined your hug, whispering softly: “You did your best.”

“But it wasn’t enough.”, Aitana sobbed.

Gently, you stroked her back: “Amor...”

“We wanted to win this.”, the midfielder said, trying to wipe away the rising tears of disappointment with the back of her hand.

Because your focus was so much on your shaken girlfriend, you didn’t see Alexia coming who padded Aitana’s shoulder in a gesture of quiet support.

Optimistically, the older of the two declared:” Yes, and we’ll win again.”

“Sure.”, your lover answered, still needing to grieve the loss first, before returning to the strong mindset which won them both two Ballon d’Or’s each. Despite that she let herself be lift by Alexia to her feet.

After the medal ceremony, everyone quickly went to their hotel rooms.

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching Aitana carefully frame a photo of her silver medal the one she’d soon share on social media. Her brow furrowed, she glanced up from her phone, voice heavy with regret: “I let down the children from your class.”

You reached out gently. “Amor, you didn’t let anyone down.", you reminded her softly as she settled beside you, leaning into your side, your arm wrapping around her shoulder.

The brunette murmured: “When I picked you up after school, they were so excited… so proud we’d made it to the final again.”

You smiled, squeezing her shoulder: “They still are. They’ll always be proud.”

That memory warmed you both, the eager faces of the girls and boys from your class, crowding around her, hoping to play football with the two of you.

“Do you really think so?”, Aitana asked, her tone softening with hope.

Your heart immediately melted.

“I know that.”, you assured her. But knowing your girlfriend wouldn’t be convinced by just words, you grabbed your bag from the nightstand and pulled out a stack of papers.

Wordlessly, you handed them to Aitana.

Her eyes widened as she flipped through them: “Wait, you brought their drawings with you?”

You nodded: “Yes. Oh, and they can’t wait to see you and play with you again.”

Ever since you first introduced Aitana to your class, your students had been obsessed with her.

“Let me see.”

“Here.”

Aitanas face lit up as she continued looking through the drawings of FC Barcelona crests and Champions League Trophies. Each one with a personalised message to Aitana and the team.

“Wow.”, she murmured at a loss for better words

You grinned brightly: “Even Marc said he will be wearing an Aitana shirt instead of his Yamal one.”

“I will tell Yamal!”, Aitana laughed.

“You should. But I’m sure he can live with that.”, you grinned.

Relief washed over you, seeing your girlfriend smile again.

She tilted her head, still smiling: “You think?”

“Barely.”

Aitana seemed to consider that. “He might.”

You studied her for a moment. The tears had dried, the loss still weighed heavy, but the smile had returned to her face.

“Missed your smile.”, you said softly, resisting the urge to trace the curve of her lower lip with your fingertip.

Aitana tilted her head and pouted dramatically: “Am I not allowed to sulk after a lost final?”

“No, you can pout. The only important thing is that you get back up again.”, you said.

Aitana gasped with a shocked face and playfully slapped your wrist.

“Sorry, was that too teacher-like?”, you laughed.

“Yes, I hate that.”, she said, though the smile on her face proved that she clearly didn’t hate it at all.

You shrugged innocently: “Sorry.”

“No, come here.”, Aitana replied quickly, pulling you in for a tight huge. She rested her head on your shoulder and took a few deep breaths to ground herself. “Thanks for cheering me up.”

You pulled back just enough so to look at her, your face softening: “No worries, you can always count on me.”

“I know I can.”, your girlfriend whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

There was barely any rest between the Champions League final and the start of the Spanish national team camp. On the day Aitana had to pack her suitcase once again, she took the time to visit the primary school where you worked.

It was Valeria who spotted your girlfriend first, letting out an excited yell as she ran towards her: “Aitana!”

“Hi.”, the midfielder replied, grinning shyly as the rest of your class quickly followed. In no time, she was surrounded by your students.

Clearing his throat, Marc asked with genuine curiosity: “Are you on your way to the national team?”

“Yes, I am.”, Aitana confirmed.

Her heart sank when she saw the disappointment written all over the little boy’s face:“ Oh.”

“Actually, I'm heading there right after this short visit.”, the footballer explained, biting her lip guiltily. If she could, the brunette would have loved to stay longer.

Since Aitana’s first visit to your school, Valeria had been dreaming of following in her idol’s footsteps. She might have been the smallest in her football team, but her dreams were big and her talent, raw and promising.

In pure admiration, the girl cooed: “Wow, that’s so cool.”

“It is, right? Do you all still meet up for football after school? And have you learned any new tricks since the last time we saw each other?”, Aitana wanted to know from them.

“Yes! Want to see some?”, Marc nodded, clearly thrilled. Aitana gave him a warm smile: “Of course.”

“Watch!”, he said, eager to show off the football tricks he’d been practising.

Even though she knew time was tight, the midfielder grinned and requested: “Not bad. Can I try too?”

Before long, it turned into a spontaneous little game one that, in her opinion, ended far too soon.

Gratefully, you walked your girlfriend to her car.:“That was so sweet. Thanks for visiting.”

“My pleasure.”, Aitana replied.

With wide eyes, Valeria waved: “Bye, Aitana! Will you come back soon?”

“I promise I’ll be back soon.”, the midfielder said, her voice gentle and sincere.

Valeria beamed: “Great!”

“Pinky promise.”, Aitana told her.

Seeing her so excited moved the football player. Even though losing the final still stung, the joy on your students’ faces brought her a little comfort. They were still there despite the loss.

With a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

“See you soon.”, Aitana chimed. Before getting into the car, she leaned in and kissed you, hoping it would say everything she couldn’t put into words.

And just like that, the brunette was ready to go again.

image sources

[mwahgo]

Hi!! sorry if english bad, but I want to say I love your work! I would like to request Traflagar Law x Reader, Law is reader's professor (maybe we're med student?) and Law has a crush on reader but knows it might be wrong. But then reader asks how to get extra credit because her grades dropping. So Law makes her earn extra credit by fucking her after class

Feel free to ignore if this make you uncomfortable!

TEACHER'S PET

— Professor!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader (One Piece)

[+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+]

: ̗̀➛ Summary: His favorite student is falling his class, now she begs him to get extra credits.

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 2.3k words

: ̗̀➛ Content Tags: Porn with little plot, student/teacher relationship, reader is of age here, sexual fantasy, P in V, unprotected sex, sex with consent, blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talk

Mwahgo's Notes: I love this request! Thank you so much!💕

The atmosphere inside the classroom feels lively as the chattering of the students echoed inside. They talked about different stuff, school, grades, hangouts and other stuff but one main topic was passed around the group of students.

“Have you heard? We have a new biology teacher!”

“Really?! Man.. I hope they’re good at teaching,”

“Oh my god, I’ve heard from the other students that he’s really hot!”

“What?! Oh my god, I have to get myself ready for him. Hope he gives me extra grades for being pretty,”

The students giggled amongst themselves, gossiping about the new professor that will be having his first class with them. You, on the other hand, is busy with writing your essay that is due today. You fell asleep for the whole day yesterday that you completely forgot to do your work, so you quickly rush to class and finish it there.

“I’m kinda excited to meet the new professor,” Your friend babbled beside you.

“Don’t talk to me right now, I’m working,” You retorted, focusing on your essay.

Your friend rolled your eyes, “Boo! That’s what happens when you fell asleep and play video games all day,” They teased.

You rolled your eyes with the truth as you continue answering your essay, “You think he’s actually hot?” Your friend asks again.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, but I don’t mind a hot professor,” You mumbled as your friend gasped in shock.

“Yo! Are you saying that you’re willing to date one?” They asked as you gave them a look.

Before you get to answer, the door opened and the chatting toned down as a new professor entered the room. Messy, black hair, side burns and has a goatee as his piercing, tired eyes glanced around the classroom as he placed his stuff on the desk.

“Good morning class, I’m your new professor, Trafalgar Law..” His deep voice echoed in the classroom.

Your eyes travelled down to his arms and notices he has a lot of tattooes, which made you doubtful about his skills. As he continue to spoke, your friend slowly turned to you and just mumbled, “Damn… He is hot,”

You gave her a side eye before the professor noticed both of you, “Excuse me? Care to share that to the class?” He sternly questioned.

Your friend jumped away from you as you try to hide in shame, “N-No, sir..” You apologized.

His eyes glanced at you, up and down before going back to talking to the class. You noticed the longing gaze, which made you confused as your friend nudged you softly. You looked at them and they just gave a knowing look before listening back to the professor.

“Alright before you all go, submit your essays,” Professor Law announced, “After you submit, you can go,” He added.

You sighed heavily as you continue to scribbled on your essay. You were so focused on listening to his discussion that you weren’t able to finish your essay. Student started standing up and giving their papers to the professor as you sweat nervously, already regretting your procrastination last night.

“I-I can wait for you, so that we can submit together,” You friend suggested.

You shook your head, “No.. It’s fine, you can go and give yours,” You forced as smile before going back to writing.

They just sighed in disappointment as they stood up and gave their paper. They packed their bag and left the classroom—leaving you the only student in class. Law watched you carefully as you continue to write down words on your essay before sighing. He stood up and approached your seat as your breath hitched in anxiety.

“Why are still doing yours?” He asked, no sternness nor softness.

You bit your lip, nervously, “I-I… fell asleep yesterday and.. forgot about it,” You gave a half lie.

Law just sighed before taking his seat and the essays, “I’ll stay here beside you, so you can give yours when you’re done,” He said as he started reading through the essays.

You eyes widened at his actions but decided to not speak out about it as you continue to write. But you were naive, Law wasn’t sitting next to you to give company, but simply because he wants to admire you up close.

He knew it was wrong, pursuing a student while being the professor of your class. But he couldn’t help but admire your soft cheeks as they blush, your eyes looking up to him, it gives him the idea on what you look like sucking on his cock. How you elegantly crossing your legs, showing your smooth skin, making him hard. He wants to feel you, to hold you and keep to himself. He wonders how your moans sounds like as he pounds your pussy.

Law knew it was wrong, but damn, he’s willing to take the risk.

The lingering feeling continues on, from Law giving you some subtle touches as he walks around, the small glances during discussion to assisting you in your work—as long as he can be next to you.

He knew he had to stop the feelings. He tried going to nightclubs and going on blind dates to divert his attention, but he knew that once he goes back to teaching, you will be back in his mind.

Every time you look at him with those eager eyes as you placed your cheek on your palm—trying to stay focus on his lesson, it made him nervous. Every time he walks around while discussion, he sees you with your hair up, exposing you neck. It made him want to take you there.

Your little outfits was the worse. Your skirts being too short and your top is getting a little too distracting for him. It made his cock stir in his pants as he tries his best not to stare at your cleavage while discussing.

Currently, Law announced the dismissal as his class started packing their stuff while talking about their after class activities. But he noticed you weren’t packing yours as he watched you wave goodbye to your friend as they left the room. There was an unusual silence as Law waited for you to do something, but you sat on your chair—fidgeting with your fingers.

“Do you need to do some work, miss (Y/N)?” Law asked.

You flinched on your seat before stumbling your words, “Uhm.. N-No, not really..” You trailed off, “.. C-Can I ask something, sir?”

Law crossed his arms, “Go ahead,”

You bit your lip, nervously, “Uhm.. I’m like, wondering how my grades are doing..”

Law raised his eyebrow as he opened his laptop and checked your grades. You fidgeted nervously as he sighed, “I’m sorry, miss (Y/N) but you’ve been failing my class lately,” He frowned.

You looked down in shame, you were aware that you haven’t been doing good in his class but you wanted to ignore the fact. Now, he’s telling it to your face that you are indeed failing.

You sat there in silence, sinking in the information as Law sighed. He stood up from the teacher’s desk and approached your seat. He placed a sincere hand on your desk as he frowned down on you, “What’s going on, miss (Y/N)? Is my teaching been unaffected to you?” He scolded.

You grimaced at his tone, “N-Not at all, sir. It’s just that…” You sighed, “I’ve been having a hard time understanding things and I can’t really focus on your class,” You explained.

“You can always just come to me after class of you’re confused,” Law insisted.

You fidgeted on your seat, “I know, b-but I just feel bad that you might think that you aren’t a good teacher,” Law’s heart almost swelled at your consideration, “But I need extra credits, sir. So that I can pass this subject. If anything, I’ll take it,” You pleaded.

Law’s eyes widened at your cries. This was every inch of his fantasy—watching you desperately plead him to give you extra credits to pass his class. His fist clenched, holding back his sexual urges but it’s just one time, right? He tried to convince himself. He just talk you into it and would also give you those extra credits.

But he knew it was wrong, thinking about fucking his student in his classroom. It was already wrong when he had wet dreams about you as he fucks his cock in his fist at night. It was wrong when he always stay at your side when he’s teaching—stealing small glances at your figure. Pursuing his student was wrong, but Law knew he couldn’t help it.

He sighed heavily, already making up his decision, “You would do.. anything?” He asked.

You nodded, frantically as he went silent before pulling you to a searing kiss. Your yelps were muffled as your eyes widened. processing the event that is happening. You didn’t pull away as you kissed back, your lips clashing together as he pulled you up on your seat while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Law pulled away, panting, “Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You giggled, “You were the one who started kissing me,” You teased, “But yes, I want you, sir,” You bit your lip.

His cock harden in his pants, “Fuck.. That’s what I wanted to hear,” He mumbled before he carried you to his desk, “I’ll give you those extra points.. after I fuck you,” He smirked.

As he stripped off his clothes, you removed your clothes along with your undergarments as his mouth agape on how wet your pussy now. As he was finally naked, you slid off the desk and on to your knees as you faced his hard cock. His cock twitched at your hot breath fanning on it as he looked down at you. You smirked as your tongue lolled out to lick the tip of his cock as he twitched at the sensation.

You continue to lick around his to before slipping his whole shaft inside your mouth as Law groaned in pleasure. His hand grabbed your hair as he pushed his hips into your mouth, making you gag as the tip of his cock hits your throat.

“Fuck.. Sorry baby, your mouth just f-feels so.. good,” He grunted.

His hips thrusted against your mouth, his pelvic touching your lips as you suck on his thick cock. His groans echoed inside the classroom as his cheeks blushed from the intense pleasure. You looked up to him with small tears in your eyes as his breath hitched as he continue thrusting in your mouth. His pace made you grabbed onto his thighs as you moaned around his cock.

“F-Fuck, your mouth is so good, baby. S-Sucking on my cock like that..” He whimpered as he felt a coil in his stomach, “God-damnit.. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna c-cum in your mouth..” Law groaned.

His thrusts quickens as you hummed around his cock, making him groan loudly as he shoots his cum down your throat. His hips stuttered as his hand gripped your head, not letting your mouth escape his cock as you swallow down his cum. As you pulled away, Law was panting heavily—sweat dripping down his forehead as he smirked down at you.

He flipped your skirt up, yanked your panties down, and pulled you up so you could bend over his desk. With a loud moan, you felt his lips around your sore clit and sucking on your wet folds, causing you to gasp in shock. Humming over your clit while you whimpered, he held onto your soft thighs and feasted on your warm pussy.

“F-Fuck, sir.. I feel like I’m cumming!” You moaned.

As soon as Law heard that, he pulled away from your pussy, making your whine from the lost of pleasure. Suddenly, you gasped sharply as you felt the tip of his cock entering you, “I’ll give you something to cum around,” He growled in your ear as he set a hard pace.

You screamed in pleasure as the desk rocked beneath you. Law was in paradise, his cock fucking his favorite student’s pussy as your moans muffled by the desk, scared that people might hear the debauchery happening inside the classroom. Skin slapping echoed inside the classroom as Law grunted in your ear, “You feel my cock there? Fucking your.. d-desperate pussy..?”

You only nodded in reply, too deep into the pleasure. With the lack of reply, Law growled as his hand gripped your hair, pulling your head up as he slowed down his thrusts, making you whine, “I asked you a question, girl. Do you feel my cock fucking you?” He emphasized every word with a hard thrust.

“Yes, sir! Please! Fuck me harder!” You moaned loudly.

His lips turned into a smirk as his quick pace came back, making you whimpered, “Fuck, y-your pussy feels so good.. I’ve been wanting to have this,” He groaned

“O-Oh, s-sir… I’m gonna c-cum!” You moaned loudly.

His hips thrusted quickly on your pussy as you felt the coil in your stomach exploded as you came around his cock. Law grunted loudly as he spills his cum inside you. Panting heavily, he laid his sweaty body on top of yours as you laid tiredly on the desk.

Law leaned down on littered tired kisses on your temple as he intertwined your hands together, “Congrats, miss (Y/N), you get your extra credit,” He chuckled deeply, finally achieving his sexual fantasy.

[madebycloud]

pt 3 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫���𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 7.5k notes: took this long enough bcz uni sucks — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Jinx storms into her classroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She's only been inside for a few seconds when one shithead student leans back, sneering. “Jinx, me lady, you sway to the rhythm of me heart,” he mocks, his friends laughing along.

Another adds, “Yeah, give us a private performance, babe!”

Another one shouts from across the row, “How much for a personal dance, cowgirl?”

Some asshole from the party filmed her drunken dance and uploaded it, and now she's the hot topic around school.

“Piss off, dipshits,” she mutters, dropping her backpack on her desk and throwing herself into her chair.

Mr. Salo walks into the class, a stack of papers in his hand. “How was everyone's weekend?” He set the papers down on his desk.

One of the boys pipes up, his friends snickering as they elbow him in the ribs. “Maybe we should ask Jinx.”

Before Jinx can respond, Mr. Salo cuts in, “Unless she kicked the crap out of your butt, I don't want to hear about it.”

—

You shuffle into the classroom late as usual, trying to ignore the way Mr. Salo's eye twitches as you drop into your desk. Immediately you glance over to where Jinx usually sits.

Jinx lifts her head, her eyes shifting across the room. At the whiteboard. At the ceiling. At her textbook. Anywhere but you.

“We're continuing our lesson today,” Mr. Salo announces, grabbing your attention. “Open your books to page seventy-three, and we'll get started.”

You rummage through your backpack, shoving your textbooks and notes and empty crisp packets out of the way. You manage to wrangle out the battered copy of the textbook. 

Mr. Salo clears his throat, addressing the class. “We'll be doing something a little different today. I want you all to write your own version of Shakespeare's Sonnet 141.”

Groans echo across the classroom.

You don't really blame them—doing it like this on Monday? not only that, it's english class. Nobody in this room can be bothered to do any work right now, least of all thinking of a way to make an assignment interesting.

“As you work on your assignments,” Mr. Salo continues, “remember this is meant to be a creative, expressive project. I expect everyone to think outside the box for this one.”

Creative and expressive? What could be so creative and expressive about an old ass Shakespeare sonnet.

While the rest of the class starts writing, you open the assigned page and squint at the poem, silently reading it to yourself.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes. For they in thee a thousand errors note.

How in the hell are you supposed to come up with anything creative for something like this?

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise.

You read out the next line, drumming your fingers against the edge of your desk.

Who, in despite of view, are pleas'd to dote.

This whole assignment seems like a bunch of pretentious bullshit.

—

“You actually went to the party?” Lux asks, eyeing the menu on the counter. “I thought we were officially opposed to suburban social activity.”

Jinx gives a half-shrug. “I didn't have much of a choice.”

“You didn't have a choice,” Lux repeats mockingly. “What'd they hold you at gunpoint or what?”

Jinx cringes, avoiding Lux's gaze. “I did Vi a favor, and it backfired.”

Lux's eyes widen. “You didn’t…”

“I got drunk. I puked. I got rejected. It was big fun.”

—

You enter the diner, making your way towards the counter to order.

Wait a damn minute.

Is that Jinx?

You smirk, approaching Jinx. “Hey,” you greet, lifting a hand.

Jinx doesn't reply. She shoves a handful of items into her backpack, not even sparing you a glance before she takes off out the door. 

You furrow your brow, turning back to look at her friend (Lux, you think her name is?), who just shrugs apologetically before following Jinx out the door.

You stand in the diner for a solid ten seconds.

What the hell?

Did she just... ignore you like that?

You blink a couple times, staring at the door Jinx just walked out of.

Just what the hell?

—

You sit on the bleachers watching the girls soccer team practice. You spot Jinx kicking the ball around with a few of her teammates.

“What'd you do to her?” Cait asks on the other end.

“I don't know,” is your honest answer. A pause. “I decided not to take advantage of her.”

“You realize that pretty much ruins our deal, right?”

“Yeah, no kidding," you reply. “She won't even look at me.”

“Why can't you just tell her you're sorry?"

“Because she's been doing nothing but avoiding me,” you explain. “I'm not sure she even knows I exist anymore.”

“Of course she knows. It's not like she doesn't remember who you are,” Caitlyn points out. “Did you at least apologize?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because she'd probably break my nose if I was within a 10-foot radius of her right now,” you retort.

Caitlyn sighs. “You're an idiot.”

“I'm aware.” 

“You need to apologize,” she says. “Soon. Otherwise this entire thing is going to blow up in our faces, and neither of us is going to get anything out of it.”

“She just needs time to cool off,” you say, nodding. “I'll give it a day.”

And suddenly—

THWAP!

A soccer ball goes flying past your head. You flinch so hard you nearly fall off the bleachers. You twist around to see who threw the damn thing.

Jinx.

“...maybe two,” you correct yourself, watching her get back to practice.

You rub your forehead where the ball almost hit you, frowning as you watch her play. You knew she could aim, but holy moly. If that had hit you, it would have probably left a bruise.

Well, at least you know she hasn't completely forgotten who you are. So… progress?

—

Jinx and Lux walk through the courtyard when Jinx sees a flyer for prom taped to the nearby wall. She rips the flyer off the wall, crumpling it in her hands before tossing it to the ground.

A girl next to the wall, who was holding a stack of flyers, let out a gasp. “Hey!” 

Jinx doesn't even glance in her direction as she keeps walking, shaking her head. She turns to Lux. “Can you imagine who would even go to that antiquated mating ritual?”

Lux raises her hand. “I guess I would. But I don't have a date,” she admits.

“Why would you want to go to prom?”

Lux shrugs. “It's the last time we'll all be together as seniors-”

“You really want to get all dolled up so some guy with a cheap Walmart suit and a boner shoved down his pants can grab your ass all night while you're forced to listen to a band that, by definition, sucks?”

“Okay, okay, I guess we won't go. It's not like I have a dress or anything.”

Jinx smirks. “You're looking at this from entirely the wrong perspective. We're not just skipping prom. We're making a statement.”

“Oh, goody. Something new and different for us.”

“We're not some mindless sheep, going through the motions of senior year just because we're expected to-”

“Apart from studying for exams and turning in assignments,” Lux comments.

Jinx shoots her a scowl. “You're ruining my monologue.”

“Sorry,” Lux says, still smiling.

“As I was saying,” Jinx continues. “We're not just skipping prom to sit at home all night... we're making a statement. We're rebels. We're refusing to go through the boring, pointless motions of senior year like the other sheep, like every other senior year before us.”

—

You meet up with Caitlyn, who looks like she's getting just as frustrated and restless as you are with this entire situation. 

Jinx has been refusing to even acknowledge your existence, and it's been a week since she last spoke to you—if you even count a soccer ball being whipped at your head as a form of communication.

And you're not sure you even want to bother anymore. This is stupid.

But Caitlyn is just as persistent and desperate as ever.

“Your school's having prom soon, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Caitlyn hands you a stack of 200 dollar bills, pushing it into your chest. “Take her to prom.”

”No,” you reply, shoving her hand away. “I don't care, Cait. Can't do this anymore. Its sick-”

“Come on, 300 bucks.”

You push her hand away for the second time. “I thought you wanted out.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed. Vi kissed me,” she says. “We're not together yet.. but I think we're close. The only thing holding Vi back right now is her sister.” Caitlyn pushes the three-hundred dollar bill into your palm and closes your fingers over the money. “That's why I need you to do this now. Come on… help a friend out?”

You look at the money in your palm, then at Caitlyn.

“Fine.”

—

You figure you can't make things much worse than they already are and decide to find Jinx at the record store.

After some searching, you eventually find her standing in the guitar section, admiring an electric guitar. Complete with strap, of course. She fits the headphones over her ears, then sits on one of the stools nearby.

You slip your hands into your pockets, quietly approaching her from behind to talk and—

Wait.

You pause a few feet away, watching her.

Jinx looks… content. Comfortable, at least. Her eyes are closed, and she's slowly bobbing her head to whatever music is playing through the headphones.

You open your mouth to speak, to say sorry and get all this done and over with. But…

No. No. You can't—won't—disturb her when she's comfortable and, dare you even think it... too peaceful. Too calm. You're not going to take that from her.

So you quietly back away, deciding to leave her alone.

—

You wander down the section of vinyl and CDs, scanning the titles on display. You spot Jinx across the way and decide to follow her, ducking your head to watch her walk across the shelf.

Once she turns the corner, you end up right in front of her.

“Excuse me. Have you seen Collide with the Sky? I'm looking for the vinyl.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And what are you doing here?”

“I heard there's a sale going on,” you lie.

“You're so…” she starts, her eyes narrowing.

“Charming?” You cut her off with a grin, only for Jinx to roll her eyes—not amused at all, and walk away. “Wholesome?“

She stops in her tracks, turning to look at you. “Unwelcome.”

You step closer. “You're not as mean as you think you are.”

She looks at you head to toe and scowls. “And you're not as badass as you think you are.”

“OOO,” you drawl. “Someone's still got their panties in a twist.”

“Don't for one minute think you had any effect on my anything, let alone my panties. Moron.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

She turns away from you, rifling through the vinyl. “Other than making me want to puke? Nothing.” She shoves one into your hands and pushes past you, knocking you back a step as she storms out of the record store.

You glance down at the vinyl she shoved into your hands. Collide with the Sky.

—

You sit at a table in the cafeteria, typing out a message on your phone and sending it to Caitlyn. “she's still pissed.” You hit send before taking a bite of your lunch.

Almost instantly, you get a notification. Caitlyn reacted to your message with a haha. A message bubble appears, then disappears.

You type out another message. “i can hardly ask her to prom if she's still pissed at me.”

She responds in mere seconds. “I have an idea.”

“what is it?” you type back.

“Sing a romantic song for her.”

“you want me to die that badly?” you reply. “do you really think that will work?”

“Yes.”

You toss your phone to the side, picking at your food again. Singing a romantic song to Jinx? that's ridiculous.

Your phone buzzes again. “Come on. Do it. You've got nothing to lose.”

You pick up your phone and type out a response. “besides my pride, self-respect, and maybe even my life?”

“Stop being a pussy. Just do it. I double dog dare you.”

—

You approach Ekko's locker as he closes it with a slam. You clear your throat and give him a smirk. 

“You again?” he says before turning to look at you. “What do you want now?”

You pause, glancing around the hallway to make sure no other students are within earshot. The coast looks clear, so you turn to face Ekko again. “You lead the marching band, right?” 

“So?”

You hold up a one hundred dollar bill. “Play a song.” You notice his gaze flick back and forth between the stack of cash and your face.

He clenches his jaw but takes the bill nonetheless. “What song?”

—

You look out over the school field as the girls' soccer team and marching band members practice below.

You scan the controls for the school's stadium audio before plucking the cordless microphone off its stand. You find the switch labeled FIELD MIC ANNOUNCE and turn it up.

The mic is on. You hear some feedback when you bring it to your lips. Here goes nothing. 

“You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you,” you begin to sing, stepping out through the stadium's audio control room and into the open air. Your voice echoes from the speakers all over the open field. “You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much. At long last love has arrived…”

The soccer team and the marching band members look up at the sound of your voice. Some of them stop to see where the singing was coming from.

“And I thank God, I'm alive. You're just too good to be true.” You step into view, scanning across the open field and finally spotting Jinx in the crowd.

She's standing in the field with the rest of the soccer team, and she's already looking at you.

“Can't take my eyes off youuuu,” you point directly at her, a huge grin stretching across your face.

With a whistle from Ekko, the marching band takes their cue and starts playing.

The noise catches Jinx's attention, and she turns away from you to look at the band playing. Realizing that something is going on, she glances back and forth between the band and then to you before breaking out into a chuckle.

“I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright. I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night,” you sing, making your way over towards the home bleachers and sitting down on one of the steps. “I love you, baby, trust in me when I sayyy.”

You keep going with your performance, dancing around the bleachers while singing.

The two guards arrive to grab you, but not before the crowd claps to your performance.

You finally break out of their grip and continue singing. You even sneak in a pat on one guard's ass on your way past them, then run away with a huge grin on your face.

—

And, as expected, you end up in detention after that.

The room is quiet, and you rest your head against the surface of the table, closing your eyes.

Mrs. Medarda walks around the room, occasionally glancing around to make sure they're behaving. She stops at the desk next to yours. “You look pretty nervous.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He nods anxiously.

“You're sweating like a pig,” she notes, eyeing the boy.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Your eyes are all... bloodshot.”

“Yes, m-ma'am,” he stutters.

“You've got pot, don't you?”

The boy pales but reluctantly holds out his hand and places the weed into her open palm.

“I'm confiscating this,” she says, turning around and placing the weed on the front desk.

You hear the creaking sound of the classroom door opening, followed by Jinx's voice. “Coach Medarda…” She clears her throat. “I have some ideas on how we can improve the girls' soccer team.”

Mrs. Medarda turns her head towards Jinx. “Let's talk about it later,” she replies before turning away once again.

Jinx turns to you and whispers loudly, “Window! Now!”

“Window?!” you whisper shout back. The hell does she mean, window?

Mrs. Medarda turns back to Jinx, who gives a nervous laugh. “As you know, we have a huge game against the Noxus High Scorpions upcoming.”

You quickly grab your bag and move to the side of the room without Mrs. Medarda noticing.

Mrs. Medarda begins to turn in your direction, but Jinx grabs her arm to keep her from turning around completely.

“Your bicep is huge! Holy crap!” Jinx exclaims, grabbing Mrs. Medarda's other arm. “The other one's even bigger. Do you take steroids or something? I've heard steroids can really mess you up, like make your-”

“Jinx.” Mrs. Medarda interrupts her.

“Uh, that's not the point.”

“Let's hope not.”

When you make a loud creak, Mrs. Medarda cranes her neck to look at you, but Jinx grabs Mrs. Medarda's arm again to stop her from turning around. 

“So, the point is,” Jinx chimes in, “they beat us every single time. And this year, I think I have a plan to actually win. You see…”

“And what might this plan be?” Mrs. Medarda asks.

You take a glance out the window. It's open, but it's a fair distance down from the second floor. Definitely would not be a pleasant drop. You spot a large tree in front of the window with its branches extended across it. That might work.

“You remember that drill you taught us?” Jinx continues.

“What drill?”

“Misdirection.”

Mrs. Medarda stops and thinks for a minute. “I taught you that?”

“Yep… anyway... that's not what's important right now.” 

Mrs. Medarda tries to turn away once more, but Jinx grabs her chin and spins her head right back.

“Think about it!” Jinx exclaims. “They're looking left, but we're running to the right and scoring points. Boom, we win!”

“Okay, but how do we get them to look left?”

You don't hear the rest of the conversation as you leap forward onto the large tree. You let out a yelp as you land. Just as you settle on one of the branches, a loud BOOM is heard from inside. A few seconds later, the window to the detention room lights up with a shower of multicolored sparks.

—

You watch as Jinx looks around, catching her breath. “She just left!” she pants. “I did all the hard work, and the dickhead left me.”

“Hey, sunshine,” you call down from the tree. “Look up.”

She cranes her head towards the tree, her eyes locking onto you.

“I have to admit, I'm afraid of heights,” you add.

“Oh,” Jinx looks up at the tree, shielding her eyes from the sun. “It's not that bad.”

“How would you know?” you ask, swinging your legs from the high branch you're perched on. “Try looking at it from my angle.”

She scans the branches and points to the one right below. “Put your right foot here-”

“Forget it,” you refuse. “I'm staying right here.”

She scoffs, then glances up at you again. “You want me to climb up there and show you how to get down myself?”

“Maybe.”

She sighs and climbs up the tree until she's right next to you on the branch.

You grin at her, then swing your legs down and hop to the ground, leaving her stuck on the high branch alone. “Catch ya later, sunshine,” you call up.

“You little...! Get back here, you shithead!” She jumps down from the tree and sprints after you.

—

The small, rented pedal boat rocks under your weight as it glides through the water. Jinx is sitting right next to you, both of you laughing as you try to make the boat go faster.

“Frankie Valli?” she asks between giggles.

“I figured it had to be something ridiculously cheesy to win your respect and piss you off.”

She snickers and continues pedaling. “Good call.”

“You are a terrible co-paddler, you know that?” you tease.

“You're the one pushing all the water around.”

“It would go faster if you helped out.”

“I am helping out!” Jinx protests. “I'm keeping the boat from tipping over.”

“More like you're making it tip over,” you counter.

“Hey!” She smacks your leg. “We'd be moving a lot faster if you pedaled, too.”

“You can't hit the coxswain like that!”

“Stop whining and pedal!”

Both of you laugh. “So I gotta ask,” you begin. “How'd you get Medarda to look the other way?”

“I blew up the whole detention room,” Jinx says nonchalantly.

You blink. “You blew it up? with what?”

Jinx shrugs, turning to look at you. “Fireworks.”

“Fireworks. Seriously.”

“Yeah... but they're never gonna find out who did it.”

You're not sure if you should be impressed or terrified. 

You continue to paddle around the sea together. You pause, looking around the sea before looking back at Jinx. “So what's your excuse?”

“Excuse for what?” Jinx asks, eyebrows raised.

“For acting the way you do,” you clarify.

She purses her lips in thought. “I just dislike meeting people's expectations.” She looks off to the side, out to the sea. “Why live up to other people's expectations when I can live the way I want to?”

You ponder her words, thinking over the way her mind works. “So you disappoint them from the start, and then you're covered, right?”

She nods. “Pretty much.”

“Then you screwed up.”

She frowns, her brow wrinkling. “How so?”

“You never disappointed me.”

Jinx turns and meets your gaze. After several seconds, a smile slowly forms on her lips, and soon a chuckle escapes her.

You look away, suddenly finding your shoes much more interesting. You try to fight back a smile of your own.

Your eyes flicker across the coast, spotting a paintball field in the distance. “You up for it?” you ask, nodding towards the field’s direction.

She follows your gaze. “Hell yeah.” 

—

SPLOP

The paintball bursts against your chest, splattering paint all over you. With a smirk, she sticks her tongue out at you.

You tilt your head and take aim. And then, FWUMP. The paintball hits her square in the stomach.

She gasps and grabs her stomach, looking at you in shock. “You asshole!” she yells, giggling. She runs toward one of the obstacles and ducks behind it. She then pops her head out from the obstacle and takes aim at you.

The paintball hits you on the shoulder, adding yet another blue splotch to the paint already decorating your protective clothing.

“Hey!” You quickly chase after her, the two of you running between the obstacles. She turns a corner, and you quickly round the corner after her, only to find… ah hah. There she is, cornered like a rat.

She holds up her hands in surrender, grinning at you. “Caught me.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, stepping closer. “You bet I did.” You sling your arm around her shoulders.

And then, without a second thought…

You smash a paintball against her head, leaving behind a bright blue splatter of paint on her hair.

She squeals and hides behind a nearby obstacle. “No fair!“

But you follow, throwing paintball after paintball, not letting her get away.

She pokes her head out to throw a paintball back at you. It hits you on the chest.

You both laugh as you run around the field, throwing paintball after paintball. You chase her around, she tries to run away, but you're faster. You lunge at her, taking her by surprise. The two of you fall onto a nearby bale of hay, you landing on top of her.

You both throw your protective goggles aside, laughing breathlessly while you both catch your breath.

You look down at Jinx, and…

Her face is flushed and streaked with paint. Her hair is tousled, some strands have fallen out of her braids.

You slowly reach out and cradle her face in your hand, running your thumb across her cheek. “Can I…”

She nods in response. Her eyes flutter shut as you lean in. Your lips meet Jinx's, and it’s…

It's like fireworks. Why does it feel so right?

Her lips are soft, and they taste like cherry lip balm. The fingers on her left hand slowly trail up your arm, making their way up to the back of your neck. The other hand clutches at the fabric of your paint-splattered clothes as she kisses you back, her tongue slipping into your mouth.

Her bangs swing forward, getting in the way of your kiss, causing her to pull away with a groan. You watch her brush her hair to the side and fix it back into place. “Here,” she huffs, pulling you back in with a tug around your neck, “let me try that again.”

You barely manage to get the word “sure” out before her lips are back on yours. Your hand slides up to the back of her head, your fingers slipping between her braids, grabbing a handful of hair, and tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.

It… it feels good. Really good. 

She smiles against your lips, then pulls back, her eyes hooded as she stares up at you.

You lean in to kiss her again when BAM! A paintball suddenly smashes against the side of your head.

What the fuuuck?! “Wha—Hey!” you shout. “You!”

Jinx laughs as she scrambles to her feet and runs off.

“I swear to god I am going to get you back for this,” you curse as you get to your feet.

—

Jinx walks out onto the paintball field, her forehead smeared in bright blue paint. “I think I should cut my hair,” she says, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder.

“Why's that?” You wipe a sweat off your forehead.

Jinx scratches her cheek. “Just kinda thinking about it,” she replies. 

You walk beside Jinx, the paintball field disappearing out of sight behind you. “Why have you got it so long?” You gesture to her braided hair.

“I've had it since I was a kid.” She reaches behind, grabbing one of her braids and resting it under her chin. “Never cut it after I…” Jinx pauses, then shakes her head. “Doesn't matter.”

“After what,” you ask, bumping your shoulder into Jinx's.

She glances back at you and lets go of her braid, letting it fall into place at her back. “Nothing, nothing,” she says, waving her hand.

“Your hair looks fine now. Why do you want to cut it?”

“I dunno... it's getting kinda long, I feel like it's holding me back.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Holding you back from..?”

“From changing.”

“Changing?”

Jinx nods. “Changing,” she repeats. “It's just… a fresh start, I guess.”

You hum, kicking a small rock with your foot as you follow Jinx's lead. “Anything specific you're thinking of?”

—

You stand outside the local hair salon, waiting impatiently for Jinx to come out. Jinx had shooed you out of the salon to wait while she freshened up her “look” as a surprise, or so she said.

Just when you're about to reach for your phone, you suddenly hear a voice behind you. “What do you think?”

You turn around and-

You blink. And blink again.

Wow.

Her long blue braids are now cut to her chin. She wasn't kidding when she said it was a surprise.

Goddamn. She's beautiful.

“Well?” Jinx asks, hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

You gawk at her for a moment too long, completely speechless. How can you even put your thoughts into words?

“It's-” your mouth feels dry. She looks... different. But the same. “Wow. That's-” Wow. “That's... Wow.” Your eyes scan over her shorter hair, down her face, her arms... everywhere. Everything about her looks just so… damn perfect.

Jinx grins. “You like it?”

Like it? Hell yes, you like it. You nod mutely, still at a loss for words.

“You look like you've been struck dumb,” Jinx jokes. She lightly punches your shoulder, making you stumble backwards a couple of steps. “Seriously, no comments?”

You try to form a sentence, but the only two words that come to mind are “holy” and “shit”.

Jinx laughs at you—either her laughter is adorable as hell, or you're completely losing your mind. Might be both, to be honest.

You quickly regain your wits and manage to regain control of your mouth. “Sorry,” you reply, sheepish. “You just... look really good. And the haircut… it's really-” You pause to gesture vaguely at her hair before continuing. “You look... different.”

“In a good way?”

Your ears grow hot. “In a good way.”

“I thought so.” Jinx slings her arm through yours. “Soooo,” she drawls, looking at you sideways, “about this massive collection of 2,000 CDs you have…”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

“I wanna see em,” she continues.

“Yeah… about that.” You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I uhh… I mayyyyy have exaggerated a bit?”

—

“What is thiiiisss?”

“It's…” you start, before faltering mid-sentence. “My… grandmother's birthday present.”

She looks at the CD and smiles widely. “No way.” She turns the case to show you the cover. “Madonna? Really?” Jinx looks at the cover in her hands—Celebration. Then she looks back up at you. “Aww,” she coos mockingly. Ugh.

You think back to the many times you've been forced to listen to Madonna songs when visiting your grandmother. Even now you can almost hear Material Girl playing in your mind.

“Ehhh, well, you know how it is,” you say awkwardly. “My grandma loves Madonna, so...” you finish lamely, shoulders lifting in a shrug.

She slowly walks as she looks at a few other items around your room. “You know,” she begins, “when you said you had a massive collection of CDs, I kinda got excited. I was like, maybe she's got a band I don't know. Or some really underground artist only people with good music taste know about. But…” she holds up the CD again. “Madonna? really?”

“It's not like I actually ever listen to this…” you complain, gesturing to the CD.

Jinx smiles and lifts an eyebrow at you.

“Okay, fine. When I'm cleaning my room, I always listen to that CD, but—listen—only to remind me of my grandmother. Not because I actually like it,” you continue.

She snickers, opening the jewel case with a click and removing the CD. When she walks to your stereo, you suddenly realize what she's doing.

“Whoa, hey-!” you start, but Jinx is already inserting the CD into your stereo. You quickly rise to your feet, trying to stop her. “Maybe we should watch a movie or-”

A click echoes as Jinx closes the top of the stereo. A moment later, Madonna's Crazy for You begins playing, and you can feel yourself die inside.

You can imagine your grandparents dancing along to the music, singing along to the lyrics.

“God, no,” you say faintly, watching as Jinx moves to the center of the room and starts to swing her hips.

“Shh, come on!” she calls over her shoulder as she begins dancing. “Live a little!”

Is she drunk? no, she doesn't smell like alcohol, and you didn't see her drink anything. She's not exactly unsteady on her feet, either, her moves are too perfectly timed to the beat.

No, she's a hundred percent sober.

This was simply her.

‘Live a little,’ she says. Live a little.

Jinx is facing away from you, still dancing and moving her hips to the beat, but her head is turned to the side.

She looks… cute like that. Her eyes are closed, her face is upturned toward the ceiling, and she giggles as she dances.

She spins around, facing you at once. “Come on,” she says, a huge grin gracing her lips. She slowly extends her hand, reaching out to take yours in hers. “Dance with me.”

You know what? Screw it. You've come this far.

You may as well embrace the insanity.

She sees the moment you give in, and she takes full advantage of it, using her hand to pull you into the center of the room, where the light from outside is stronger.

She turns the volume up more. Her hands are still around yours, and she keeps them there for a moment before she lets go, leaving you to stand and dance awkwardly.

You have no idea what you're doing.

You're fairly sure your dancing is on par with drunken uncle at a wedding who hasn't been able to find the rhythm since the 80s, and if Jinx has noticed how terrible you are at dancing, she hasn't made any comment.

She just grins.

Despite your dance skill, or lack thereof, you're still dancing with Jinx.

Dancing with Jinx.

With Jinx.

This didn't even seem real.

Your mind starts to drift. You can picture yourself and Jinx, thirty years from now, old and grey, dancing around a family room in your future home.

You think about dancing with her, years from now. You think about growing old with her, dancing together around the room. Holding her hand, even as she's old and wrinkled and grey.

You wonder if your kids or pets or grandkids or whatever-the-fuck-you-have would be watching you two dance like crazy people like you are now. 

You wonder what she'd look like decades from now, and you find yourself surprised at the fact that she'd be just as beautiful. Just as attractive. Maybe even more.

You think about how to make her smile like she's smiling now.

Because that smile is worth a hell of a lot.

You wish you could see that smile more. Every single day, every single night, all you want to do is see her smile.

No, not 'want'

Need.

Wait.

What are you thinking?

You're getting ahead of yourself. Way, way ahead of yourself.

Jinx is still dancing, completely oblivious to the strange direction your thoughts are taking.

But even as you try to focus on the present—on what's happening now—your mind is refusing to cooperate.

Your eyes move on their own, traveling over her.

On her hair. On her face. On her hands. On her hips. On her legs. Her body, silhouetted in the bright light from the outside world.

She grins at you as she does a turn and swings her hips, and you try your best to keep up. She's so… so… herself.

She's not scared. She's not angry. She's not hiding herself behind layers upon layers of sarcasm and anger and hostility.

She's happy.

Jinx is happy. Not just “kind of” happy—fully, completely, unequivocally, truly, honestly happy.

That smile. That laugh. How she's so damn effortlessly herself and how goddamn carefree she is.

And she's so… beautiful.

You've dated girls before. You've had girlfriends before. You know what it's like to get close to someone, to be intimate, to kiss and hold each other in private.

But was it like this?

You've never felt like this before.

Never.

Nothing all-consuming, or overpowering, or soul-destroying, or devastating. There was never an intensity to them. A rush. A drive. There was never a connection, never a feeling of need.

But with Jinx...

This felt completely different. This felt so much more.

Like you were standing in a room with destiny.

Like you'd just seen the face of God.

Like your stomach turned into an entire gymnastics team.

Like your chest started feeling like a furnace.

Like your heart was suddenly playing a beat with a hundred times more BPMs than before.

Is this...

This.

Is this what love feels like?

...

If it's not love, then it's definitely an early sign of a heart attack.

—

You drive to her house. Jinx rolls down the car window, letting the wind blow through her short hair.

The song ‘Chasing Cars’ plays from the car radio.

And of course, Jinx wore one of your jackets. She must've snatched it right out of your closet when you weren't looking.

Not that you mind.

She happily chows down on some cotton candy you'd bought her from the gas station earlier and glances over at you. “I kinda like this,” she says between bites.

“You really like everything, don't you?”

“Who doesn't like sweet, sugary treats?” She holds the cotton candy out towards you. “Want a bite?”

You keep your hands on the wheel as you drive. “I'm good.”

Jinx shrugs and returns to munching on her cotton candy.

The wind is still blowing through her hair, occasionally blowing a few strands into her face, and Jinx keeps pushing them back. She groans, gives up and just lets the wind blow her hair around.

She finishes her cotton candy and crumples the empty paper and tosses it into the cup holder between you two. She leans back in her seat, her head tipped back as she looks at the clouds through the open window. “One day, I'm getting away from here.”

Did she mean away from the city? or away from her life?

“I wanna see the world,” she continues. “See everything.”

“What's stopping you?”

“My sister.” Jinx turns to look at you. “She... she hasn't quite found her place yet. I don't want to leave her on her own.”

“That's kind of you.”

She looks back out the open window. “I guess. When you don't have a lot, you don't want to leave people.”

You turn onto a side street, the car bumping along the bumpy road. “So where do you wanna go, if you could go anywhere?”

“Anywhere.” Jinx's hand sticks out the window, her fingers spread like she's catching the passing clouds. “I have a list of places I want to see.”

The car turns onto another street, and you look away to watch where you're driving. “And what's at the top of that list?"

Jinx's hand slips back in through the window, and she holds up a single finger. “Northern lights.”

“Northern lights,” you repeat.

“Northern lights,” Jinx affirms. “Have you ever seen them?”

You haven't. “Just in movies.”

“They're beautiful, and... I guess I want to see something breathtaking. I want to see something that'll take my breath away, because…”

“Because?”

“I've been feeling kinda... suffocated,” she says finally. “Like... Like there's this... pressure in my chest, a weight on my shoulders.”

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. She's hunched over in her seat, her hair hiding her face. She's looking down at her hands.

“I just wanna see something that feels... I dunno. Freeing, I guess,” she says slowly. “Something that makes me feel light, like I can breathe without struggling or drowning.” Jinx glances up at the sky again. “Something that makes me feel like I can fly.”

You don't want to pry, so you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you. The car drives out of the city and onto the highway, the road much smoother under the wheels.

Suddenly, Jinx jerks forward and sticks her head out the open window. She holds herself up by grasping onto the edges of the windows, the wind ripping through her hair and clothes as the car gains speed. “YEEEEESSSSSSSS-”

“Wha—what the hell are you doing!?”

“I'M FLYING!” Even though you can't see her face, you can hear the grin in her voice.

“Get back in the car!” 

“NOPE!”

You grip the wheel harder, trying to keep the car steady as Jinx lets one arm out the window. “You think I want to see you get decapitated by a passing semi-truck in the mirror?”

“Do you always think about me getting decapitated on the freeway?”

“It's what you'll end up like if you don't buckle up in the next three seconds!”

“YOLOOOOOOOO-”

“One-”

She leans out the window even further, now her stomach resting on the edge of the window rather than her head and shoulders.

“Two-”

She closes her eyes, a huge grin across her face.

“THREE-”

“OKAY OKAY! I'M DONE, I'M DONE!” She falls back into her seat, laughing as she throws her head back against the headrest. “That was fun!”

You glare at her through the mirror. “You're crazy.”

She scoffs. “I just want to live life to the fullest. Live fast, die young, and leave a pretty corpse.”

“The fuck? That's a bit morbid.”

“That's a lyric from a Social Distortion song, idiot.”

—

The two of you keep yourselves occupied by talking.

You've talked a lot. She has a lot of random and interesting information about a lot of topics that she seems to remember effortlessly. She's like a walking encyclopedia. 

Eventually, the conversation turns to rumors about you two.

You twist the key, turning off the engine, and watch as Jinx steps out of the car and heads up to the front of her house. “None of that is true.” You follow her, shoving your keys into your back pocket.

She chuckles. “I've heard that you've broken several of a teacher's fingers.”

“Rubbish,” you respond, shaking your head. “Kicked out of your last school for setting the chemistry lab on fire?”

“Maybeee.” She grins. “Got it on with a teacher's daughter.”

“Rumor!”

“Mhmmm.”

“That was a rumor!” You throw your hands up in the air.

“Uh-huh.”

“Totally fake.” You groan. “I heard you beat up an entire football team by yourself at your last school.”

“Not entire,” she clarifies, smirking. “Just the quarterback. He started it.”

“Alright,” you say, climbing the steps and stepping onto the porch alongside her.

“I heard you've gotten an entire class to drop out.”

“True.”

“Oh yeah?”

You sigh. “Two years ago,” you clarify. “A couple of assholes decided they were going to prank me every chance they got. I got fed up and paid them a visit in the middle of a math class.”

“How many people?”

“Half the class.”

“God, you're terrible,” she says, “I like you.”

You both settle down on the porch steps, sitting side by side and facing one another. Your knees are touching.

“Tell me something true.”

“Hmm… something true?” you murmur, rubbing your chin. “I hate peas,” you state, glancing over to her with a smirk.

She chuckles. “No, not that. Something real. Like something nobody else knows.”

You nod, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Your hand trails down to her neck, fingertips brushing against her bare skin.

You press your lips to her neck, just below her jawline. “You're sweet,” you continue, moving to the other side of her neck. “And sexy.” Pulling back, your eyes meet hers. “And completely hot for me.”

Jinx scoffs. “You're wonderfully presumptuous,” she remarks. “Anyone ever told you that?”

“Every day,” you quip. “By myself in the mirror.”

You lean in, pressing your lips against hers. You pull back, foreheads touching, leaving just enough space between you to speak. “Go to the prom with me,” you whisper.

“Is that a request or a command?” she murmurs, bumping your nose with her own.

You rest a hand on her knee. “Come on,” you urge. “Just go with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It's just stupid. Prom is stupid.”

You sigh. “It's not stupid.”

“It really is,” she insists.

You press your lips together, trying to think of something to get her to change her mind. “People won't expect you to go,” you counter, scooting closer to her and bumping your shoulder against hers. “No one will bat an eye.”

She glares at you, leaning away from your touch. “Why are you so hellbent on this?”

“What? I'm not,” you protest with a chuckle, shifting awkwardly. “Come on,” you try, “it's not that big of a deal.”

“But it is to me,” she says. “What's in it for you?”

You scoff in response to her accusation. “So you think I need something to want to be with you?”

“You tell me.”

You turn away, avoiding her gaze. “You need therapy. Did anyone ever suggest therapy for you? Because if not, they should,” you blurt, struggling to maintain composure as your heart thrums in your chest.

“Answer the question,” she snaps, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing!” you exclaim in frustration, turning to face her again. “There's absolutely nothing in it for me, if that's what you want to know. I just-” you pause, catching your breath. “I just want to spend time with you, okay?”

You pull a cigarette from your pocket and raise it to your lips, fumbling with the lighter. Just as you're about to light it, Jinx snatches the cigarette out of your mouth and flicks it to the ground.

She heads towards the front door, and without looking back, slams it shut.

You rub your temples, seething at your own stupidity. You didn't mean to say those things to her—your frustrations were bubbling over, that's all.

You pull yourself up from the porch and kick the abandoned cigarette.

You really shouldn't have agreed to Caitlyn's deal. 

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty, @multiliker, @rick-grimes-girl, @angelsglitch

[ncis-nerd]

Slumber Party

part one || part two

Ship: Rio Vidal x Agatha Harkness x Reader || Professor Valkyrie x Reader || Future WandaNatDanverHill x Reader ;)

Warnings: Vulgar Language, Spanking, Slight Dark Themes, Manipulation?, Gulit Tripping?, Power Tripping?, Praise, Innocence, Degradation, Tears, Mentions of Sex, CALCUS, Brief Exhibitionism, Brief Voyeurism.

A/N: My last day of 4 classes back to back is over so that means the people will be fed ;)

Summary: Her lips ghosted your neck, her teeth bit down into that sweet spot. Nat smirked at your pathetic whimpers. “So loud.. and to think I haven't even began yet!” Natasha exclaimed. Wanda and Maria's eyes focused on you but all you could do was close your eyes. This was so hot, everything you ever wanted.

Word Count: 1.7K

When you received an invite in the mail from the "it girls" in your classes, you didn't expect any of this. You were on your way back from your professor Valkyrie's tutoring. You were struggling in her class so you went to her office hours to ask a few questions.

You were her star student so of course she didn't mind staying after class to provide you with some "extra help".

As the class came to an end, all your classmates began to leave. The room was empty, leaving just you and professor Valkyrie left in the classroom.

You were taking out your textbook to ask your professor some questions when you noticed her sitting on her desk. "So what can I help you with, my prized student?" Valkyrie spoke.

"I needed help understanding this concept, I just can't wrap my finger around it" you groaned in frustration.

Yeah, of course. That is one of the more harder topics so it makes sense that you are struggling. If we're being completely honest, I am just shocked you didn't ask for help sooner. I have been watching you in class and have seen the way you have been struggling." Your professor started to make her way over to you.

Professor Valkyrie laid her hand on your shoulder as you showed her a specific problem in your textbook you were struggling with. You noticed her hand lingering a little too long to be friendly, but you made nothing of it. You were probably just overthinking the situation. She's your professor, it would be inappropriate to think otherwise, you told yourself.

"Hey, are you with me?" Professor Valkyrie said, noticing that you had been in your head and quiet for a while. "Yeah, just stressed. I need to ace this test" you spoke.

"I'm positive you'll do well, you're my best student" she winked, making her way to the white board.

"But worse case, you do fail, then we can talk about ways of making that up" your professor spoke, a hint of suggestiveness in her voice. As if there was more to what she was implying.

Was talking about sex? Your eyes widened but you pushed those thoughts aside, you needed to focus.

"So this is what a partial derivative is" she spoke, facing the white board. Your eyes glanced down at her shirt, more specifically the curve in her back. It was so perfect..

As your eyes linger down further, Valkyrie turned around to trace your eyes on her. She smirked silently to herself as she shot you a firm look. You cowered in your seat, embarrassed.

After a while of conversating with your professor, you were able to nail the concept. Or at least that's what you thought as you made your way back to your dorm.

When you returned, you found a paper slipped under your dorm door. You reached down to pick it up. A wave of confusion filled your head, you didn't talk to much people besides your usual friend group that consisted of Peter, MJ, Ned, Kate and Billy. But they have your number so it couldn't be them.

It couldn't be for Kate because it said "Y/N" in bold letters. You began to open it, "Slumber party"..."Natasha, Wanda, Carol and Maria"... The paper read.

Huh? You thought they were all super pretty but way out of your league, so you were shocked. Was it the wrong "Y/N" maybe? It's a big campus, maybe the invite wasn't meant for you.

You have class with Wanda on Thursday, you could ask her about it then. You sighed, tossing the paper on your desk and taking your place on your bed. Your eyes struggled to stay open. You fell asleep, not wanting to think about calculus again.

You heard silent moans as your eyes fluttered open. You rose up to find THE Agatha and Rio fucking on your couch. Rio's eyes burned into yours, darkening as Agatha pounded into her with her fingers.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the party" Rio smirked, referring to your presence. "O-oh, I u-um" You stuttered as you looked away from the scene in front of you. Both women, fully naked, screwing each other. On your couch??

"Aren't you gonna join us you little pevert?" Agatha hummed, her eyes now on you as well. "W-What" You gasped at the boldness of her words. Agatha and Rio were the power couple on your campus, everyone knew of them. They were so hot and everyone's dream girlfriend's.

"You heard me, are you just going to stand there and watch or join us?" Agatha remarked as you hesitantly made your way over to the pair.

You couldn't believe this was happening.

As you sank down on the couch between the two women, Rio started to leave love bites on your neck as Agatha palmed at your breasts through your shirt. "Let us take care of you" Agatha groaned. As Rio bit down real hard, you opened your eyes.

You jumped in your bed, it wasn't real.

On Wednesday night as you began to get ready for class, you started to think about your dream from the other day.

That was so strange, you've never had a dream like that before. You wonder what caused it. Could it be the stress about the invitation? But Agatha and Rio wouldn't even be there. Their names weren't on the invite. Whatever, you'll find out what's happening tomorrow, for right now you should get some sleep.

The next thing you know, your alarm for precalc is going off. Shoot! How'd you sleep in this long?! You groaned, hurrying to get to class. Your pj bottoms of teddy bears and clouds you deemed presentable enough to go in public, you were regretting but had no time to class. You grabbed your laptop and bookbag and rushed to class.

“And today we will-” Professor Valkyrie paused, the door swung open.

Out of breath, you stutter “I f-fell asleep!” making your way to an empty seat, which was coincidentally by Wanda. “Uh huh, as I was saying..” Professor Valkyrie continued.

Professor Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at you, pausing for a moment before continuing her sentence. "Today we will be focusing on partial derivatives and line integrals".

Your mouth opened slightly as you realized that she was going over the subject you had struggled on, but you went to tutoring so you should be fine right? It felt as if she was testing you, to see if you were paying attention to her during tutoring.

You groaned, realizing she was giving the extra hard questions. You were so screwed.

“Hey-” you whispered, facing the redhead who was not very invested in the class. Wanda's eyes fell on you, your attention on her soft pink lips. “Yeah?” Wanda whispered back. “I think you got the wrong dorm, this was at my door when I got back.” You took the invite out of your bookbag.

"No I didn't. We want you y/n.” Wanda smiled. You coughed loudly. What?! They want me?? Wanda giggled at your response “Let me rephrase that- we want to see you at our sleepover!” Wanda spoke. You were confused.. “Why me? You don't even know me..” You looked at Wanda puzzled.

Professor Valkyrie stared at you for a minute, after your coughing outburst.

After you handed in your paper, you sat at your desk for the remaining time left.

“We've had our eyes on you for a while, y/n. I'm surprised you haven't noticed.” Wanda hums. What did she mean by that? Why were they watching you? You were kind of creeped out but- “Ms Y/N! Ms Maximoff! Got something to share?” Professor Valkyrie glared at you, obviously annoyed. You were late and interrupted class, twice.

More people started to turn in their papers. As everyone left your class, Professor Valkyrie spoke up.

"Y/N, please stay after class for a minute".

Oh you were so, so screwed. You thought to yourself.

"What happened?" Professor Valkyrie frowned, disappointment was present on her face.

"I um-" She cut you off.

"No, I know what happened. You were to busy staring at my ass during tutoring instead of focusing on the equations that I took time out of my day to help you understand. Not only were you late but you were also disruptive of my class, TWICE." Professor Valkyrie spewed.

Your eyes widened as you felt tears fill your face. "W-wait n-no. Th-thats not what" You sniffled, as your words began to slur.

"W-wait n-no- T-thats not" She mocked, as her hand met your face rather harshly. You gasped in shock, feeling the sting on your face from where she slapped you.

"You're going to make it up to me, Y/N. I want you over my desk right now". Valkyrie spoke.

You were so confused but followed her directions, you were bent over her desk, you felt your butt out and exposed.

Valkyrie pulled down your skirt to reveal pink panties with strawberries on them.

She paused for a moment to admire them. "Cute, real cute" She murmured before pulling them down too. "Y'know I may have to confiscate those before you leave" She smiles.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your tears continued.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay, I'm just going to spank you for being naughty then you'll be my best student again. Okay, sweetheart?" Professor Valkyrie spoke softly.

You nodded, sniffling quietly. You weren't a bad girl, were you? You thought to yourself. "I want you to count and say thank you Professor after each spank. I'll only give you 10 since I don't want to break you just yet" She spoke.

Break you? What did she mean. You nodded regardless. "Y/N, I need to hear you, use your words doll." She mumbled.

"I understand, thank you Professor" you spoke obediently.

"Good girl" your professor praised.

Her hand met your cheeks, leaving a sting.

"One! Thank you Professor!" You winced, you were never one for pain.

"Two! T-thank you Professor!"

"Stuttering already? Don't worry, we'll fix that later on" Valkyrie spoke, making a mental note to break you in sooner rather than later.

Her hand left a harsher slap this time.

"F-five! Th-thank you P-proffesor!" You murmured.

By the eight spank you were a stuttering mess and your ass was burning. Professor Valkyrie was not gentle with her spanks.

"TEN! THANK YOU PROFESSOR!" You cried out.

"Shh, shh you were such a good girl for me" Valkyrie spoke, admiring how red and raw your ass was.

She brought you into her arms as she caressed your face, admiring your glossy eyes.

With a swift movement, Professor Valkyrie picked up your panties and dropped them in her pocket. "For later" she smiled, winking at you.

A/N: There WILL be a part two, it was too long to make one full story, so it will be broken down into two parts. The next part will be the actual Slumber Party.

[emeritusemeritus]

Masquerade: you can fool any friend who ever knew you. [Fred Weasley]

**This is part 2 to a request you can find HERE**

Title: Masquerade, you can fool any friend who ever knew you.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x SarcasticHufflepuff!Reader {Idiots in love}

Timeline: Non-specified/ non-canon event.

Summary: Following Hogwarts’ anniversary masquerade ball, will Fred ever find the mystery woman he’s longing for, and can you, his best friend with a light crush on him, survive it?

*Updated Warnings: Unrequited love, idiots in love, friends to lovers all the usual divine tropes. Happy ending I promise. Minor sexual references, 1 mention of masturbation, George fancies Angelina. Slight angst? We have a massive crush on Freddie. Bonus points for anyone who knows where the title is from. Kissing, love confessions. Did I just write 5k words and none of it was smut?! There’s a mention of Paedophilia in the form of a passing age related joke*

Word count: 1.8k

Thank you to my wonderful Anon who inspired this two part fic with their brilliant request. This story flowed out of me and I was unable to stop writing. Did I cry writing this? Definitely Maybe 🖤

It was mid-afternoon and you were walking from charms when you felt a paper bird fly into your shoulder, confusing you as there was virtually no one around. You'd stayed behind after class with Flitwick to go over some extra work you'd asked for to boost your grade and became throughout confused at the random paper. Opening it, you couldn't help but smile, seeing Fred awful handwriting littering the inside.

'Little Badger- My dorm, 8pm?'

You knocked on the door, waiting for his signal for you to enter and walked into the dorm with a smile on your face, pausing once you noticed that George wasn't there.

"Where George?"

"Well I'm offended," Fred says, giving you blank look, "where's bloody George, am I not good enough now? Also hello."

"Hello trouble," you say, walking over to hop onto Fred's bed, instantly lying down on the surprisingly comfy and tidy bed. You squeal as you feel him jump in beside you, the tiny beds making you think that Fred would be jumping on you but he surprises you by scooting over to allow you to just lay beside him.

"What did you want to do?" You ask, turning your head towards him.

"Hmm?" He asks, half as if he's not listening and the other half as if he doesn't understand.

"You asked me here, what have you got planned?"

"Nothing really, just wanted to see you. It's not a crime is it?" He smirks, eyes soft.

"Only if you're a paedophile," you say bluntly, watching with glee as his eyes bulge and he bursts out a laugh at the dark joke.

"Rotten woman," he mumbles, earning a half-arsed shove on the shoulder as you smile at him.

"Fancy a nap?" You say, eyes closing as you find a comfy spot on the bed.

"How old are you?" He asks tauntingly, preparing to tease you over the need for a little sleep.

You open one eye, looking straight towards him with a smirk on your face, "do you really want me to make the paedo joke again?"

His hands instantly come out to tickle your sides and you beg for mercy as you squirm, almost falling off the bed in the close quarters a few times before he relents.

"Let's go to the kitchens," he suggests.

"Or.. let's take a nap."

"Astronomy tower?"

"Orrrrr a nap?"

"Bloody hell woman how tired are you? I'm offering a romantic date with food and a view, not to mention the giant squid, and all you want to do is to sleep!"

Despite your eyes remaining closed, you'd never felt more awake at the word 'date' so casually slipping from his mouth, a fire in your tummy beginning to ignite the very thought. You try to think of something to say, anything, in reply but you can't, all words failing you completely until you bring up the one topic you didn't want to talk about.

"Not sure your mystery woman would approve," you joke, though there's no real humour in your words. Fred snorts and you open your eyes to see him frowning off into the distance.

"Given up on her already?" You say, digging a little deeper, intrigued by his curious reaction. You watch as he frowns, turning his head slowly to look at you, eyes softening slightly the longer that he stares.

"Let's go to the black lake."

"Are you going to drown me?"

"What? No," he says in concern at your words.

"Alright, lead the way then Weasley."

It's bloody freezing when you reach the edge of the lake, the wind whipping through the trees like it's trapped between the tree line and the school, making you fight off a chill.

"Here, have my robes," Fred offers, his fingers reaching for the fastening.

"No Freddie I'm fine, you'll be freezing," you say, reaching up for his hand to stop him untying it.

He pauses, your hand still resting on his as he looks into your eyes, a soft smile ghosting his face.

"You haven't called me Freddie in ages."

"Sorry," you say, averting your gaze and pulling your hand away but he stops you, grabbing your hand and holding it in his. You see how his gaze diverts to your entwined fingers but you don't say anything, opting instead to take a deep, steadying breath.

"Your hands are freezing," he observes, his fingers squeezing yours gently.

"Yours are warm," you hum in return.

Suddenly, he looks up at you again with a questioning gaze, like he's looking into your soul.

"I want to try something," he says, not glancing away. You simply nod, hardly trusting your voice in the moment as you let him adjust you however he wants.

His right hand slips around your waist, the heat from his skin penetrating yours immediately, warming your side and yourself. You can barely breathe, you're certain he's never been this close to you before. You watch as he follows his hand with his eyes, gripping your waist with his long fingers before trailing his eyes up to your entwined hands. His gaze then trails up to your face and you look at him with an expression that you hope is neutral but is probably very far from it.

He starts to spin you on the rocky shoreline of the black lake, the two of you dancing under the moonlight without any music. It's beautiful and bittersweet all at the same time.

“It was you.”

"It was you," he repeats, sounding breathless, slowing his footwork only slightly. You frown, brows knitting together at his words, completely lost at what he was accusing you of.

"That night, at the ball, it was you."

"Freddie it wasn't me," you say quietly, your emotions bubbling to the surface, finding it too hard to deny any longer under his gaze. "I wanted it to be you that I danced with, I wanted it to be me that you wanted. I looked for you but... it wasn't me Fred."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes but you don't feel upset anymore; you think this is the last step in your grief, the acceptance. You knew that with one simple lie you could have Fred Weasley for yourself, that everything you'd ever wanted was right at your fingertips but you couldn't do it. Not to yourself and especially not to Fred.

"But you were there, it could have been you," he says with determination. Did he want it to be you? You reluctantly shake your head, wishing more than anything that it was.

"The guy I danced with had black hair," you say, wanting to break the gaze but finding it impossible. You feel a pang of sadness when he chuckles, head thrown back with a humourless laugh that makes your stomach lurch. He'd realised that it wasn't you after all. He pulls away from you and your heart breaks just a little bit more.

"You mean like this?" He asks, pulling out his wand and pointing it directly at his head. You scramble to get him to stop whatever he's doing but you're rendered completely silent when you watch with wide eyes and mouth agape as he casts a spell you don't know that immediately turns his fiery locks pitch black.

A sob escapes you as you look at him, hardly recognising the boy you'd loved forever seeing him with black hair, realising that it must have been him.

It really was him.

"There's about 6 people in this school with red hair and 4 of them are Weasleys, kind of defeats the point of being anonymous doesn't it," he says with a smirk. You're gobsmacked, still doubting what's in front of you.

"It really was you? The orange waistcoat with the gold stars?" You say, trying to pull the memory of the mystery man as clearly as you can.

"If you look in my wardrobe right now I can promise you it's hanging there," he says, pocketing his wand, the boyish smile returning to his lips.

"And my dress?" You ask, waiting for the moment he'd describe it wrong and this whole dream would slip away from you.

"Could kill a man," he says with a smirk, trying to calm your apparent nerves and denial. He describes it in near perfect detail, including your mask. You're breathless, lip quivering as you realise that it's really real.

"You believe me?" He asks, slowly moving forward. You nod, unable to find your voice.

"You trust me?"

You nod with more enthusiasm, never doubting your trust in him for a second.

He smirks, moving forward and you reluctantly hold out for hand to stop him, his smirk fading from his face instantly.

"Whatever happens next isn't happening until you look like you again," you say through a laugh, your eyes lighting up as he laughs too having forgotten about the black hair. He pulls out his wand and with a single effortless flick, he's Fred again.

This time he doesn't ask for permission, it's all in your eyes, the welcoming, the love. His hand grabs yours and he slowly pulls you into him, his right hand sliding onto your waist whilst his left hand tucks it self under your chin. There's a moment that passes as you look into each other's eyes where nothing else exists outside of the two of you. His eyes flick down to your lips as his fingers lift your chin ever so slightly whilst he begins to lean down.

His lips feel like pure magic against yours. It's like finding that perfect wand at Ollivanders that has chosen you, completely in sync and connected through a force invisible to the human eye.  You give in to the kiss without a second thought, allowing him to dominate the kiss, his tongue sliding deliciously against your own, the comfort of his pillowy soft lips nearly taking your breath away. It's everything you could have ever imagined and you can't imagine for a single moment from here that you could ever be without it again.

He pulls away eventually and you look up at him with shining eyes, tears of happiness welled up in your eyes at the years of torment finally absolved. He looks at you like he never has before, it's full of love, full of adoration.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he admits with a chuckle that makes you snort at his stupid words.

"I'd wager that I have some idea."

[scaraobsession]

Categorically Yours⎯ ♡

⎯ 02. oh wow ;-;

Note: If future written parts don't live up to this one, it's because I used 110% of my sleepless brain for this one and the perfect flavour of insomnia is hard to recreate.

~600 words, Scara x reader

You stare blankly at the whiteboard in front of the lecture hall. On there, a blur of bullet points and philosophical trivia. God, this class is already so confusing. And it’s only the first lecture at that. Nice start with a PowerPoint straight from academic hell.

These are only the basic definitions — easily doable if it wasn’t for the professor trying to make it as confusing as possible. This guy really wants to sound smart. Circling the topic but never getting to the point and instead getting lost in his endless tangents. He must’ve explained the same concept in five different confusing ways by now.

Looking down at your messy notes, you sigh. Even your pink gel pen can’t save them from looking like they belong to a crazy person. Crossed lines upon crossed lines, question marks on the side and of course the doodles that seem to happen on their own the less you understand.

You hold back another frustrated huff. Hu Tao should’ve been here. Stupid fever. Not that she’d help you get any of this crap — she’d be even more lost than you, probably — but she would’ve made it entertaining. Or at least bearable. Like, at least she’d suffer by your side. But nooooo she gets to stay at home and sleep in while you have to endure a lecture that should be forbidden from ever being held again.

Since focusing is no longer an option, you take a look around. Your eyes land on the desk to your left.

Nothing.

No notebook, no laptop, not even a pen is sitting on the desk. All you see is the smooth wooden surface. That's strange.

This is one of those classes where the professor feels really important, so much so that he won’t publish the presentation slides, because “you retain more if you take your own notes”. Maybe the person next to you forgot their writing utensils. Or is just as clueless as you about the words the professor is spewing.

Curiosity wins and you glance sideways — and oh.

He’s pale, like he hasn’t seen the sunlight in God knows how long. His dark indigo hair falls over his forehead in an almost perfect way. Despite his sharp features, he has an unplaceable delicateness. Not from his expression, but from his facial structure.

And he’s just sitting there. Unmoving, staring at the professor with an unreadable expression. Either he’s in the zone, holding on to every word the professor utters, or he’s in the same boat as you.

You decide to take your chances and open a new page on your notebook, scribbling a quick note for him onto the paper. After hesitating for about a second, you slide it onto his desk.

It catches his attention and he takes out a pen from his jacket pocket.

You look at him wide-eyed. Is this guy serious? Or mental? Doesn’t need notes for this lecture? What if he means no notes in general? He must think he’s a gift from God to academia himself if he actually believes he needs zero notes for a lecture where we don’t get the presentation slides.

Upon seeing your (rightfully so) puzzled expression, he snorts and turns away quickly. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his slightly condescending snigger taking away the last bit of doubt. This guy is some kind of genius. Or some kind of asshole with an inflated ego.

Either way, you outed yourself as completely clueless. And now he probably thinks you’re some kind of idiot who thinks Socrates is a skin care brand. How embarrassing.

previous masterlist next

summary⎯ It starts with a note in philosophy lecture. They sit together once, then again. Now they’re texting, sharing notes, and maybe something else they won’t admit. Minor in philosophy, major in denial.

Taglist:

@bittersweetmiko @lizzie-harper @hntft @bubblebellaz @vlynynynyn @rumitome @qjvt7 @insomniacdaydreamss @vi0let-writes @bananasquash @9meree

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it. 

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention. 

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers. 

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you. 

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.” 

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher. 

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach. 

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment. 

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can. 

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical. 

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own. 

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours. 

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits. 

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.” 

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class. 

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly. 

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go. 

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute. 

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident. 

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time. 

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that. 

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation. 

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking. 

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly. 

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better. 

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs. 

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room. 

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty. 

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile. 

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go. 

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are. 

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him. 

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it. 

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door. 

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe. 

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe. 

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind. 

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees. 

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance. 

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature. 

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them. 

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest. 

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet. 

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough. 

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips. 

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink. 

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?” 

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

[bountifulchips]

Best Friend Duties: Crowe x reader

Summary: What’s a more fun way to suffer than having your best friend by your side! Spend a late-night moment with Crowe as you dive into research ruckus, deep conversations, and friendships! (Or something more? :D)

word count: 1.1k

Ah yes, the usual late night ventures inside your apartment filled with the radiations of your laptop (and your sanity). You need to sacrifice all of your nights in order to achieve good grades, after all.

But tonight is a little different.

With everything piling up, you needed some emotional backup. And who better to call than your ever-so-charming best friend, Jericho Ichabod — or as most know him, Crowe. He didn’t hesitate to agree to stay the night. A study buddy might just be what you need to survive this academic dilemna.

Truthfully, you've never had any visitors at your apartment until both you and Crowe got drenched and he had to evacuate to yours right away. Things were... Let's just say the past events were rather intimate between you two. Whenever you sit on the same exact spot of the couch, your mind immediately replays the moment where his longing presence was wrapped against you (specifically, your neck). Crowe is undeniably sly, but maybe that’s what keeps you hooked.

When he arrived, you whipped up some midnight snacks before getting started with research chaos. Your chosen topic? It was an investigation into the attachment styles and interpersonal relationships of Titan City's college students — specifically, those from the higher class. Moving on, you both sat on the floor, laptops glowing side-by-side on the coffee table. Back pain is a problem for later

Crowe let out a long yawn, rubbing his cheeks. "Our group needs more participant feedback... The lower years won’t bite, even if there are exclusive incentives." He pinched the bridge of his nose while contemplating his whole life in front of his glowing laptop. Research-1, Crowe-0.

“That’s rough,” you sympathized, typing away. “Keep pestering them. Kill 'em with kindness, right?” You understood his stress. Gathering respondents for a quantitative study felt like picking out roses — roses with thorny opinions that could make or break your data.

Crowe scooted closer, his shoulder resting gently against yours as he peered at your screen. “What about you? Are your participants settled?”

"Just wrapped everything up yesterday,” you said with a grin. “Thank goodness we have Hyugo in our group — guy can charm a freaking tomato in seconds. I contribute the write-ups while he handles everyone else.” You chuckled, recalling how your teal-haired classmate still managed to have his ball of energy despite chattering all day. “Surprisingly, the higher class students were… cooperative enough."

Crowe hummed, amused. "Ah, wonderful. You can finally acquire enough sleep." He skimmed through your paper again, now behind you, leaning in as he scrolled. You could say personal space was not in his dictionary tonight.

"The higher class, huh? What was it like to interact with someone most people fawn and despise?" He murmured, gently moving your hair aside to whisper in your ear. "I’ve been curious as to how that made you feel." He reassured you and waited for your response.

You laughed."Ah, yes... The Trivia Master Ichabod strikes again!" Crowe lightly smacked your shoulder, and you shifted back to a more thoughtful tone.

"Well, there are a lot more privileged beings than what I expected... For starters, the administration did accept the approval letter for conducting research related assessments, which surprised me because I really thought the higher faculty would reject the whole idea! I guess I got lucky." The more you presented your words, the closer he leaned to you.

Crowe nodded, face in deep thought. "Do you think that they treated you with real respect? Or was it just tolerance – waiting for the survey to end?" He ponders and awaits your new answer.

You hesitated. "Perhaps a mix of both. You never truly know someone’s real intentions unless you dig deeper into them." You answered truthfully. Crowe's presence lingers more and moves closer behind you.

"Just be careful with the people you allow to stay in your orbit. Not every star wants to see you shine." He lightly brushed your hair, giving you some comfort. "I look forward to the full results of your research. I could smooth out some grammar issues as well!"

You looked back, ruffling his hair. "You're such a multitasker-king! Or whatever that is. Seriously, thank you, Crowe. Just being with you in every small step means a lot to me. I feel like I don't help you enough, to be honest."

He blinked. "You're kidding, right? Your presence is always there whenever I need it. Every single moment we have together… It's like the stars shift to make room for a new constellation. Just being near you is enough."

He rested his head against the back of yours and sighed. You could feel all of his tensions fading away the moment he said that.

"Oh, Jericho. You and your way of words." you said as you nuzzle your heads together

Crowe smiled and pulled you into a hug. "How lucky I am that our stars crossed. Being your... best friend is the greatest fate the universe can grant me." His voice slightly faltered when he said those two words to describe what the both of you had at the moment: "best friend."

He settled his head on your shoulder again. "Speaking of friends, how do you feel about our friend group? If anything ever feels off… I’m right here."

He was referring to the four knuckleheads that somehow lifted your spirits up: Deryl, Geo, Brittney, and Jess. These past few months with them were the cherry on top in your chaotic college world. Brittney's dashing mindset, Jess's gentleness, Deryl's absurd obsession with Brit's sandwiches, and Geo's quiet yet attentive presence... A day with them is a guaranteed smile on your face.

And Crowe? Well, he was the whole galaxy.

You shut your laptop screen to fully face him. "I adore them all so much! They are incredible in their own ways. And, I wish... Society can see how amazing we are regardless of our state and more on recognizing who we are."

Crowe mumbled something you couldn't comprehend before gripping your arm a little tighter. "Maybe others don’t see it, but I certainly do. In my eyes, you are my brightest star ever." He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"For the sake of lady physics, you're going to kill me, Jericho." You lightly smacked his head but proceeded to pat it afterwards. "You're too... Tender."

"Hm?” He tilted his head, fingers twirling the strands of your hair. "Is it a bad thing?"

"It might be,” you murmured. “If you keep doing that, you’re responsible for me." Before a second could even pass, Crowe leaned in further, bracing his arms on the table — effectively caging you in between. His damn smirk was as mischievous as ever.

"Maybe... That was my secret agenda all along."

[pedriache]

you could do one where cubarsi sees the reader as someone very serious and intelligent so he thinks he has no chance with her but in fact he does

Either way — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being on opposite sides of the spectrum when it came to school, you being an honors student and he just an athlete, Pau assumed there was no chance with you. Little did he know, you’d been watching him for a while.

Word count: 1.36k

Disclaimer/s: this is a highschool AU! Just fluff tho <3

A/N: oh highschool au’s you always get me sooo good

Study hall was quite possibly your favorite time of the day. All alone and focused, you couldn’t ask for anything better. Except today. Today that was ruined. You’d been assigned to a partner project and that meant study hall was no longer just for your use.

The only upside seemed to be that your partner was Pau. He was cute, you had a small crush on him for a while now. But for some reason, every time you tried to talk to him, he would just stare at you and say as little amount of words as possible. Like he couldn’t stand being in your vicinity.

Clicking your pen nervously, you impatiently wait for him to join you. Forty minutes for study hall, and he’d already waisted fifteen of that by not showing up. You were just about to take out your other textbooks and focus on other work, when he finally decided to show.

He was breathless, like he’d just ran across the school to get here. Pau slides into the seat across from you, “sorry, I forgot.” He explains through pants.

“Forgot? Are you kidding me?” With your annoyance clear, you wave him off. “Whatever, you’re here now.”

As Pau gives you a sheepish look, unpacking his supplies, you glance over the options your teacher had provided. “So… what’d you want to do? For the project I mean? We have like seventy options.”

The brunette’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at the paper you’d shoved toward him. “Uh, I don’t care.”

Is this a joke.

“You don’t care about the project or what we choose?” Your eyes narrow in his direction, eyebrows pinching together.

“No!” He says quickly, eyes widening as he sees your face contort, “I mean yes! I do care, I just, you can choose.” He’s stumbling over his words, nothing like the calm, collected athlete you imagined he was.

Amusement flickers across your face, and Pau instantly relaxes. “Okay.. jeez. We could go for a lame topic and get an easy A, or we could take our time and do something cool and ensure an A-plus.�� You’re talking to yourself more than you are him, but Pau listens intently anyways.

“Whatever you want.” He shrugs, eyes flickering across your concentrative face. Your bottom lip tugs between your teeth as you reread the topics, eyebrows scrunched together as you do so.

Pau couldn’t stop the familiar tug in his stomach while watching you. You and him were so opposite, but he supposed that’s what he liked about you.

He was never that good when it came to school, just enough to keep him in sports and his parents good graces. But you.. you were top of the class, had been since primary school.

There was a problem with that though. Girls like you rarely, if ever, went for guys like him. Most of the smart kids in the school went for the other smart kids. Athletes and scholars never really intermingled. Different friend groups and everything.

He definitely had no shot.

“Pau?” You were waving your hand in front of his face, “earth to Pauu?”

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts, in staring, he hadn’t realized you were talking to him. His face burns a bright red. “Sorry, what?”

Quirking an eyebrow, you give him a weird look. “I asked if you wanted to do it on the history of our spanish football team, since that would be easy for you? I mean, you have played for them haven’t you?” There’s a hint of teasing in your words that has Pau swooning even more. You really were perfect.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” He agrees, giving you a small smile. “You like football?”

You didn’t really want to stray away from getting work done, but it was Pau. Who were you to resist? “My dad and siblings do, i’m not very well educated on it though.” You set your pen aside, crossing your arms on the table. “So, for once, maybe someone will know more about a topic than I do!”

He laughs at that, his gummy smile making an appearance. The same smile that first caught your eyes and had him on your mind ever since.

“I guess so.” A pause, in which neither of you speak. Both wanting to continue a conversation, but neither knowing what to say.

Clearing your throat, you sit upright. “So, I guess we’ll be stuck together for a while. We should figure out when to work on this, I know you kind of have a busy schedule.. I don’t mind doing most of the work either.” You said it like you were used to it, like it was expected, and that made Pau frown.

“I mean, we could go to each other’s houses, or meet up somewhere outside of school when i’m free?” He suggests, somewhat nervous though. His fingers tap the desk, his eyes watching the movements before flickering back to you.

He watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and check the time on your phone. “Yeah, that’d work.”

Now or never Pau…

“Can I get your number?” He asks quickly, going to add on that he would be needing it to contact you, but for some reason he doesn’t.

You blush, knowing why he needed it, but a small part of you that’d been waiting for him to ask that for years, couldn’t help but ache. “Yeah—yeah!” You go to dig out your phone as Pau slid his across the table for you. You exchange devices, taking his in your hands.

Quickly typing in your number and name in, you give it back to him. He hands you yours and a smile creeps onto your face.

Pau 🤗😇

“Were the emoji’s necessary?” You chuckle, looking up at his triumphant face.

“Absolutely.” He nods with full certainty, a lopsided grin on his face, turning nervous as he opens his mouth once again, “ah, you can text me whenever, like.. not just for school.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “oh? Like… in a friendly way or—“

“If you want to hang out!” He says hastily, sinking back into his seat awkwardly. “Said that too fast.” He mumbles under his breath, quiet enough that you only made out a fraction of what he said.

Fiddling with your phone, you give him a pursed lipped smile. “You want to hang out with me? Outside of school?” Doubt creeped into your mind the longer you thought about it. There was no way Pau Cubarsí was telling you he wanted to hang out with you of all people.

It’s Pau’s time to be confused. The way your face contorted, the way you asked, you sounded like you couldn’t believe he’d ask you that. “Yeah. Do you not want to or something?”

“No! No, of course I do. Uhm, I just, well i’m surprised, that’s all.” You shrug it off, “‘course i’d want to hang out with you.”

Pau feels his confidence boost back, “you’re surprised? Why..?”

Confusion bounces off both of you guys in that moment. “Well you’re like.. super popular and stuff. And we’ve like, never spoken so I just assumed you weren’t the type to be friends with me.”

The boys eyebrows tug together, his forehead creasing. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hang out with me because you’re smart and always serious and stuff.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips, a shameful flush passing across his cheeks.

Your face twists with hilarity. This was very interesting to say the least. “So we were both judging each other essentially?”

“I guess so,” Pau laughs quietly, “then i’m going to rephrase what I said earlier. Would you like to hang out, outside of school. Get coffee or watch a movie?”

“That sounds like a date.” You note, leaning forward to rest your chin in your palms. A small smile growing on your lips.

Pau feigns to think, his lips pursing ever so slightly and he mimics your movements. “Only if you want it to be.”

With a smile reaching your eyes, you nod. “I think I could get on board with that idea.”

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[lovelickyshen]

Nerdy! Caleb

Summary:

He's a smarty pants and you're struggling so you asked him for help.

Tags?

Fluff, school era, tutoring, confession, yearning, pining.

WC: 1k

You're falling behind. You put all your efforts, time, and sleep on this subject. Maths. You thought you would get better the more you practice on the questions. Somehow it backfired.

You're on your 1st year of A Levels. You took maths without a second thought, because back in high school you were a consistent A student. What had happened?

You didn't know how or why it happened, but it did. You watched your teacher handing you your test results– a 3/40. This is terrible!

You're part of the smartest class in math. You're rank the lowest of the smarts. This is humiliating. Everyone else gets at least 75% above while you're the odd one.

"You need to do better. I know you can do this. Maybe you should get extra help?" Your teacher suggested. Maybe they're right? You've been on this maths journey on your own. It's time to step out of your shell and ask around.

"Sorry, I don't have any spare time after my afternoon classes."

"I can't do after school."

"I have committee duties."

"We don't have the same free period. Sorry."

Rejections after rejections. You felt like you lost hope. As you were about to give up, suddenly Caleb appears in front of you.

He's one of the vested student council members. The one that holds a lot of responsibilities. The way the black vest hugs his body was perfect. His broad shoulders and his tiny waist. You would eat that up every time.

He shares the same maths class as you, always scoring a 100%. Maybe he could help you? But he's already a busy student. All that student council work, and he's taking the hardest subjects for A Levels which is even worse. Well, it doesn't hurt to ask right? He's your last hope.

You slowly approached him, his back facing you as he was chatting with his other members.

"Hey Caleb... Can I ask you something?" You asked, fidgeting your fingers because he seemed slightly intimidating.

He smiled with his eyes. "Sure, what is it?"

It was just the two of you.

"Could you like teach me maths? I've been falling behind lately and I really want to improve. I know this is too much to ask for but you're my only hope so I really wanted you to help me out. Exams are soon and if I don't—"

"Woah, calm down. Sure, I don't mind helping you. When's your free period?"

"Thank you so much, Caleb!"

The next day at school, you two agreed to meet up in the library during your free period.

You spotted him waiting for you.

"You're early." You chuckled.

"Class ended early just now. So what's the topic you're struggling on?"

"I want to start with the test paper. I need help on question 2. Why do I not have to find the discriminant?"

"In this question, you're not finding the discriminant. You're just solving the inequality. Here's how you do it." Caleb explained with ease. He picked up a pencil and write his working with explanations step by step.

After an hour of going through the test paper, you understood your mistakes. You smiled, feeling satisfied because you knew your mistakes.

"This is awesome. You're so smart. Thank you!"

His ears turned red. He laughed. "You're most welcome. If you need anything, feel free to text me."

You nodded, packing your things and set off to your next class.

Every day at school, you and Caleb spend the day in the library doing maths. Practicing on the questions until you understand everything.

He even made notes for you which is so considerate. You felt indebted and bad because he's done so much for you.

"Are you sure you don't want anything? I feel bad you know." You said as you grabbed a drink from the vending machine.

"No worries. Not thirsty at the moment."

This was the first time you spend your free period with Caleb not in the library. Today was exam day and you wanted to relax for a bit.

"Okay. How do you feel right now since exam is in few hours?" You asked out of curiosity.

"It's normal. I studied and practiced past papers. I'm ready." He said. Typical Caleb.

Results are out. You saw your paper and beamed. 43/50. That's a huge jump from your previous exam.

You looked at Caleb. You squealed.

"Oh thank you, Caleb! I got 43!"

You couldn't help yourself but pulled him into a hug. Which surprised him, causing his face to be red as a tomato.

"Y-yeah..."

"I got 360 tariffs points now. I can rest in peace." You giggled and cheered. You achieved a huge accomplishment.

"Still the same time tomorrow?" Caleb asked.

"Hmm, maybe we should stop? I mean I got my goal now. I'll come to you whenever I need help." You said.

An arrow had stricken into Caleb's heart. What do you mean you're backing off? After all this? He loves spending his free time with you. He get to know more about you. Your hobbies, your favourite drinks, favourite tv show and movies, your favourite bands, and so much more.

"Sorry?" He blinked. He thought he heard wrong. Maybe his mind is playing with him?

"I'm thinking we should stop, Caleb. I'm done. I don't want to slow down your duties or your studies on your other subjects." You explained.

"Isn't Physics also hard? The practical exam is 3 weeks away." You added.

"No."

You furrowed your brows.

"It's not a hassle or a problem. I wanted to do this. I love helping you. Why can't I do that?"

"I thought I'm holding you back."

"You never hold me back. You've made my life shine brighter. You're the sunshine in my day. There's nothing more I could ask."

He grabbed your shoulder, pining you against the wall.

"The way you pout when you couldn't understand a question. The way you played with your pen whenever you're bored in class. I've always wanted to be with you. Can't you see?"

He whispered your name.

"Caleb..."

"I understand if you don't want to see me. I mean I'm a busy student. I'll go." He mumbled.

You stood here as he left. You were speechless.

He likes you this whole time?

[iveneverbeenhere]

The smartest woman meets the dumbest man alive

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Genre: FLUFF, suggestive, Himbo Hoshi x fem reader, university au, yes he’s in a frat but he’s basically just there because his boys and booze are there.

Summary: Local Himbo Hoshi has a paper due over the weekend that he hasn’t started. Woozi recommends he visits you.

A/N: This is lowkey for me and nobody else. I just want to date Hoshi and have him be shocked and turned on because I know the definition of apparatus.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hoshi has never been the most clever guy. His head consists of seventy percent air and 30 percent tiger facts; however, that fact has never bothered him. He has other lovable qualities. He’s sweet, charismatic, and stupidly attractive; his brain prowess isn’t one of those shining factors; there’s nothing wrong with that.

Essay due: 11:59 Monday

Except when it comes to academics.

Returning to his fraternity that night, he whines to Woozi and Wonwoo about his struggle to write his long, procrastinated essay. Who decided to have college students take Gen Ed classes anyway?

“It's not fair! Who gives a weekend notice?” He pouts into Woozi’s plush thigh.

“Well, if you weren’t a dumbass, this wouldn’t have been an issue.” Woozi scoffs. Woonwoo casually nods in agreement. He dramatically gasps from his spot in Woozi’s lap.

“I’m not a dumbass! I just have trouble focusing.” Wonwoo chuckles as Woozi snarks, “Right. Except when it comes to drinking and tigers.”

Hoshi snuggles further into his lap as he pouts.

“I can’t help it. Please, help me write my essay Woozi?”

“No.” He deadpans

“Woozi. Baby. Love of my life. Sexy short king. Pleaseeeeeee. Pleaseeeeee.”

Woozi swears he feels his eyes roll into his skull as he leans back into his desk chair.

“I am not writing your paper for you; I’ll give you my tutor.”

Hoshi lights up and crushes him in a tight hug.

“BABYYYYY!!!”

“But, you owe me one.”

“Yessir!”

Woozi feels in his temples that he’ll regret this.

Friday 5:50 P.M

Hoshi walks into the campus library. It’s far more spacious than he expected; he’s not sure if he remembers the last time he was there. He sits at the first table he sees, ten minutes early for his meeting with you. According to Woozi, you’re brilliant; A walking encyclopedia of worldwide knowledge rolled into a short, freckled kissed woman. Oh, additionally, he emphasized that your glasses are fucking huge.

Friday 5:59 P.M

Hoshi has long since zoned out on his phone waiting for you. It’s not until he hears a high-pitched voice ask him, “Hi! Are you Hoshi by chance?”

Holy shit; apparently, Woozi neglected to mention that you are stunningly gorgeous. You were small as he noted before; your oversized strawberry milk sweater with a white pleat skirt that ended below your knees highlighted it. He left out your sweet, round face and doll eyes. The shiny curly hair that fell onto your face in small sections. The one thing Woozi did properly prepare him for was your glasses; They were massive. The lenses were round and thin; they went past your eyebrows making your face look mousy. He stutters,

“Y-yeah.”

You give a wide smile showing off the sizeable gap between your front teeth.

“Perfect! I’ll be your tutor.”

This is gonna be a hard time for him.

Friday 6:15 P.M.

After introducing each other and making small talk, you get Hoshi on track.

“So, you have to write a paper for English 101?”

He nods his head as he looks at your tinted lips. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but you look smart; as if you should be in a lab with those uncomfortable goggles and a white lab coat mixing chemicals. You looked like you should be telling him what to do. Something about that intelligence radiating off you made him incredibly horny.

“Well, I want to write about tigers—“

“That’s a wonderful place to start! Since tigers are a broad topic we should narrow it down. We could talk about the evolution of tigers from miacids and what that tells us about their current survival needs. Or you could focus on tigers in the media and by extension their symbolism in the broader world. Like how, as one of the larger big cats they’re seen as feminine because of the general idea of feline equaling femininity and mystery. Except for lions, but that’s another topic in and of itself. Sorry, I’ve rambled.”

You look down at your MacBook while clearing your throat. You push your round glasses up back to your eyes as you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah, this paper should be pretty simple to write. I’ll help you.”

“I need you to fuck me on this table right now.”

You almost spring up from the table in shock.

“Jesus! We’re in a library, so don’t be so puerile!”

“You see, you using big words is not making my dick any less hard.”

You put your head down in embarrassment on the table. Hoshi can see your ears turning a cherry red.

“I mean—I’m so sorry, it’s just—listen you’re very pretty and like super smart and use big words, so I got excited—“

Soon enough he sees your body shaking. He thinks he’s made you cried; God, he’s seriously fucked it up.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. If—if you want I’ll leave—wait a minute, are you laughing?”

You slowly bring your head up as you grab onto his arm like life armor. You wheeze and giggle your response, “I’ve never—oh shit, had a guy—so brazen! I’ve had interested people, but never to this extent!”

Hoshi blushes a deep pink as he looks at you.

At least you don’t hate him?

[thatonewritersomewhere]

Cat's Game

Warnings: Fluff, dating, smut (blowjob, fingering, p in v, creampie, aftercare)

Summary: College au, aged up characters, Kirishima x fem!reader, Kirishima is somewhat of a soft dom - partners for a project becomes... something else...

Word Count: 6.2k

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"The partners for your project will be posted on the board at the beginning of tomorrow's class," Mr. Aizawa drawled in a tired voice, as usual. You wondered if he got any sleep, ever. The class collectively gathered their things and got up from their seats. 

With your things in your bag, you walked out of the school and to the local coffee shop nearby, since you and Mina had planned for a day together after school. She had another class before she was done, so you grabbed out your laptop and started looking at possible topics for your research project. It was a National History Day project, except your teacher had to make it mandatory. And of course, you couldn't even choose your partners. 'I just hope I get a good partner,' you thought. 

This year's theme for the project was "Turning Points in History", so a lot of major events that had a lot of evidence would be pretty good. You started to write out a list of events that would be good, when Mina walked through the door and into the shop. 

"Mina!" You called out to her, getting up to give her a hug. You both have been super busy this school year, so it always feels great when you get to see each other after a while. In the embrace, you could tell she smelled like bubblegum, her favorite perfume. She wore white dress pants with a pink blouse, and her hair was down. She is one of the most fashionable people you know, and always lives up to that. 

"You look so good today!" You told her, gesturing at her outfit. 

"Thank you! You do too!" she said. Your outfit was not at nice as hers - just some lighter jeans with a long pink sweater on. It was funny that you were matching, without coordinating at all. 

You waved her over to the table you were at, a smaller booth in the back of the shop. It was cute, and had multiple like this one - closed off on 3 sides, cute small pillows on the booth seats, and a large lamp hanging overhead. It was actually a really nice place to study. 

You two sat down, and you closed your laptop as you moved back to where you were sitting. 

"So how have you been? Is there any new tea?" Mina asked, a smirk poking at her lips. 

"I don't know," you said. "Nothing new with people right now, thank goodness." Your luck with drama was not always the best, as it usually was more negative.  Thankfully, though, there hasn't been much drama at all, so it's been good so far, and you told her this. 

"There is this huge project we have to do for my history class, and the partners are assigned. I just hope I get someone good for that." 

"Well, that's good," she said, her smile sweet. "I hope that any drama that comes your way is good drama that you can tell me about, and I hope your partner is who you hope it is," she said, and her sweet smile quickly became a smirk. You both laughed. 

There wasn't anyone on your mind that came up at her comment, but you hoped that soon someone could fill that void. 

The next class finally rolled around, and so the partners were posted on the board at the beginning of class. Since everyone was already crowded around the paper, you decided to set down your things and then come back. You maneuvered your way around the people that were done looking at it, and found yourself in front of the paper. You scrolled down the list of names. 

Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku Midoriya

Yn/Ln, Eijiro Kirishima

Kyoka Jiro, Momo Yaoyurozu

You didnt look much after that, since you saw your own name. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know a lot of these people name-to-face. You would have to find Kirishima, whoever that was. The hope that they were someone good still remained in the back of your mind as you looked around the classroom, walking back to your seat. 

Once Mr. Aizawa started calling out attendance, an idea popped up in your head. You would have to pay attention to figure out who Kirishima was, especially since they would be one of the first ones to get called. A few moments passed until you finally heard Mr. Aizawa call out their name. You looked around the room to find that the person who responded was a bright red-haired guy towards the back of the class. 

You realized you would have to talk to him after class, and your anxiety shot up. 'I need to push through this and just talk to him,' you thought to yourself. Calming yourself, you took out your laptop to take some notes on the requirements for the project. You didn't want to look, but you hoped that he was taking some notes of his own at least. 

After you made a whole rubric and watched a few videos, you felt more prepared about the requirements. 

"The next few classes will be structured so that you are learning about National History Day and the requirements for the project, because apparently I have to show you those. Also that way you aren't learning anything new while also trying to do this entire project," Mr. Aizawa stated, his tone laced with boredom and fatigue. Contrastingly, his statement brought a few smiles to the students. Class time for a project would be a great way to get ahead on it. 

Tentatively, you raised your hand. 

"Yes, Ms. L/N?" Mr. Aizawa asked. 

"I was wondering if we would be able to move closer to our partners so that we could use this time to work with them?" you asked, your voice a lot quieter than it normally was. 

"Yes, you may," he answered. "As long as you are still quiet and not making too much noise. This is supposed to be a lecture class, so it's supposed to be quiet except for me, but I'm nice today."

A nice smile was brought to your lips, despite the anxious butterflies flitting around in your stomach. You snuck a glance back up at Kirishima, and found that he was looking at you as well. Quickly you turned away, your cheeks flushing red. You realized that you needed to talk to him, though, and turned back around. 

"Do you want me to move up there?" you mouthed at him. He gave you a thumbs up and a smile in response. 

"Okay, you may get started," Mr. Aizawa told the class. You packed up your things other than your open laptop and got up from your seat to move closer to Kirishima. 

"Hi," you said as you placed your laptop down in the seat next to him. 

"Hi," he replied. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was looking you up and down. Your skin erupted with goosebumps, and you set down your bag behind the seat. You pulled the chair next to him out and sat down, re-logging into your laptop. 

"Do you know what topic you want to do?" you asked Kirishima, turning to him. On your laptop was open the list of different topics you thought might be good. 

"Right to business, huh?" he chuckled, taking a glance at your laptop. You laughed with him. 

"Well, we have the time now, I'd rather use it and have to work less outside of class," you explained. 

"That's... valid," he decided. "I wasn't quite sure yet, was there anything you had in mind?" 

"Well..." you began. 

The two of you ended up going with the Civil Rights Movement, which wasn't exactly the least common topic, but it was perfect for the theme of the project and you had decided that you were going to make the best presentation you could possibly make. Soon, though, the clock was close to the time the bell rang, and so you had decided to wrap up. 

"Since we're partners for this project, do you wanna work on it outside of class? This might be the only class time we have to work on it," you told him. 

"Yeah, that's fine," Kirishima said. 

"Okay great," you paused, opening your phone. "Do you wanna put your number in and I can text you?" 

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking your phone from your hand offering it to him. Quickly he typed in his number and his name, and then handed back your phone. It wasn't a moment too soon, either, because the bell rang right then. 

"Awesome, thank you!" Closing your laptop and putting it in your bag, you shot a sweet smile at Kirishima. This time, he smiled back. 

The walk back to your place wasn't that bad, and with his smile in your mind, you felt like you were back in no time.

That night you couldn't sleep. Turning over, you checked the clock, and it read: 

1:03

You groaned as you turned back over. You had been doing so all night, and you were tired of it. You turned on your phone to see if you had any notifications. There weren't. 

'Oh shoot,' you said aloud in the dark. Of course there weren't going to be any notifications. First of all, it was 1AM, and second of all, you were the one who had his number. Not the other way around. You went to contacts and found his name. You clicked on the info button and went to message. 

'Hey, it's Y/N - can't sleep so I figured I'd text you even if you aren't up - if you see this, I was wondering if you are free tomorrow after class to work together for a bit on our project? If not it's fine, just let me know. Thanks!' You sat there with the message in the draft box, not yet sent. Finally, your 1AM self decided that it would be a great idea and sent the message. You closed the app and turned off your phone, setting it down on the nightstand next to you. Turning over once again, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. 23 minutes later, you received a message. You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand to open a text from Kirishima: 

'Yeah, of course - I have practice but I am definitely free after that. Couldn't sleep either btw' Kirishima responded. 

The butterflies came out of their cocoons in your stomach at his response. You tried to calm the butterflies as you responded, but it was tough when you were trying to schedule studying with him. 

'Okay, when does practice end for you?' you asked. 

You saw the typing bubble pop up after he read your question. 

'Around 7:30' he answered. 

'Jeez, that's kinda late' you replied. 7:30 would be around dinner, possibly after depending on when you made it. 

'Yeah, if you're cool with that?' he asked. 

Probably making a bad decision, you replied: 'Yeah, sure - my place' 

'Ok cool' he answered quickly. 

':)' Ending the conversation, you sent an emoji, put your phone down, and went to attempt to sleep again. 

The next day went by extremely slow. 

You weren't exactly happy about the late study time, but you weren't exactly opposed, either. Throughout the day, though, you watched as the time ticked by, taking as long as it possibly could, it seems. Your classes never seemed to end, the assignments and lectures dragged on and didn't help to pass the time, either. Finally, though, you were able to pack up your things and get back to your place. On your way home, you texted Kirishima your address. He probably wouldn't see it, but it will be there when he's done with practice. 

When you got home, you rewrote your notes from your classes and got started on a few papers and assignments. Once you were done, you got started on making dinner, which was around 7. You weren't exactly the best cook, so it took you a lot longer to make things, but you got it done. 

You had started the sauce for spaghetti, when you heard the doorbell ring. Your roomates wouldn't be home tonight, since they were going to a party. Expecting only one person to be at the door, you walked over and opened it. 

There he was. Kirishima. And he was... wet?

"Sorry I'm late, I had to shower after practice," he said. "Took me a bit longer than I wanted to." 

Quickly you glanced over at the clock to see what time it was. Chuckling, you said, "It's not even 8 yet."

"Oh, shit, my clocks run a bit fast. Forgot about that," he replied sheepishly.

"That's okay," you said, moving aside so he could step through. As he did, you took your split second of a chance to glance at him up and down. He was dressed comfortably (you couldn't blame him, he was just coming from practice) in sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt was school merch, with the logo printed large on the front. 

He walked in enough to close the door, so once you did, you started walking back to the kitchen where you were finishing up making dinner. 

"You can sit down in here if you want, you don't have to be a lurker," you told him, chuckling. "None of the girls are gonna be home tonight, so we have some privacy." 

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I didn't want to intrude."

"That's fine, you're in here now, so you might as well get comfortable. Plus, I'm almost done with spaghetti if you want some," you offered. 

"I might take you up on that offer," he said. While you stirred the sauce, you could hear him behind you sitting in one of the seats at the counter. Your laptop and a few paper sources were also over on the counter. 

A few minutes later, the sauce was done, and the noodles were now in the strainer in the sink. 

"How much do you want?" you asked Kirishima. 

"I can get it," he said. "I don't want to take too much." 

"Okay," you said, grabbing out plates from the cabinet. You left the door open so that he could grab one too, and you went to grab your own food. 

You sat down at the counter where your laptop was, and when he came and sat down next to you, he said, "Wow, this looks really good y/n. Thank you."

"Of course," you replied. 

Since it was already late, the study session went by pretty fast. The two of you were getting a lot of work done. 

When you took a pause, you glanced over at the clock, which read: 11:24

"Oh my gosh, you need to get back and get some sleep!" you exclaimed, not realizing how long you had been working for. "We have been working for way too long!" 

"It's fine, no worries," he reassured you. "You do too, though, okay?" His gaze was soft as he looked at your panicked face. He must have been tired after almost 3 hours of work, plus it being after practice. This was normal for you, but you didn't know if it was for him. His soft gaze had to have been from tiredness, you told yourself, trying to push the butterflies and blush away. 

"Okay, I will, but you need to get home first." You told him. 

"Alright," he decided. 

Even though his room was within walking distance from yours, you drove him home (because it was so late, you told yourself. Definitely not because you like him). In the walk back to his room from your car, you both listened to the light sounds of the night. It was sweet and calming after studying for so long. 

"Thanks for coming over and working with me," you told Kirishima. 

"Thank you for inviting me, and your spaghetti was great, too," he told you. 

"Definitely. We should do this again," you suggested. 

"For sure. Maybe my place next time?" he asked. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"Awesome. I'll text you."

His last glance at you of the night was one where he was smiling, and it filled you up with a warmth inside that you couldn't get rid of all the way home. That warmth helped you to sleep better than you had most nights at school yet. 

3 weeks later and almost completely done with your project, you closed your laptop for the night. Kirishima was next to you, finishing up his last bit he needed for the presentation. 

"This Friday was a bit rough, huh?" Kirishima asked you. 

"Yeah, definitely. Classes lately have not been fun," you replied, a small smile sneaking onto your face. 

"Glad we're almost done, though - this project will definitely be worth it once we're entirely finished," he commented. 

"I did enjoy spending this time together, though," you said, trying to bring a positive aspect back to the topic.

"Same, I'm really glad we're partners," Kirishima said, his face flushing a pink where normally you never saw that. He turned away quickly, and you did too, smiling a bit at his blush. 

Tonight you were dressed a bit nicer, since you were coming from dinner with an old friend, and you decided not to change. He was dressed nicer too, but you weren't quite sure why. It was definitely getting to you though, since normally you both dressed casual when you studied together. 

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat. "Um, so normally I would ask if you wanted to study sometime this weekend, but since we're almost done with the project, would you like to go on a date with me instead?" 

Immediately your heart swelled, suddenly your stomach was filled with hundreds of flitting butterflies and your face was hot, blush lighting up your face with red. 

"Yes, I would love to," you said, the wave of joy finally breaking with a huge ecstatic smile on your face. 

Kirishima's face lit up with red, almost as bright as his fiery hair. He proceeded to celebrate by jumping into the air as high as he could, pumping his fists in the air. 

"YES! Okay, awesome!" He almost yelled, his excitement making you giggle. 

"Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, I'm free tomorrow so that should be okay," you told him, a cheesy grin stuck on your face. "Text me any other details I might need, okay?" 

"Okay, awesome," he replied, his excitement still clearly showing on his face, also still bright red as well. 

Soon after that he drove home, and when he stepped out the door to leave, you closed the door and pressed your back against it, standing there for a minute with a wild grin. Your emotions were running high, and you stepped away from the door only to jump around cheering in your front hallway for a bit. 

The next day was the longest you have ever been through. He texted you in the morning that he was going to pick you up at 6, and that you could dress casual (because you asked him what you needed to wear). However, after waking up at 8 with a free day ahead of you, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Somehow, though, you managed to fill your day (partly because you were in a call with Mina half the morning, describing the situation and her giving you advice) and you were ready by 5:30 for Kirishima to arrive. You had decided to wear a dressier t-shirt with leggings. 

Before 6:00 rolled around, Kirishima got to your place and walked up to your door, and before he got to knock on it (he took a second to hype himself up before he knocked on your door), you opened it and saw him standing there in a cute white shirt with black pants on. The outfit accentuated his figure well, and you could tell he was strong, and his muscles were toned. His bright red hair was fluffy, like he normally has it, and he donned a cute smile as he checked you out as well. 

"Wow... you look really pretty," he said, blush creeping onto his cheeks. Your eyes were planted on his, and you could see he couldnt take his off of your shirt, which was a low, V-cut shirt and helped to show off your cleavage a bit. 

You laughed as you replied, "Thank you, you do too." 

This finally brought his eyes back up to your face, and the blush that was creeping up just onto his cheeks now covered his entire face as he realized he was totally caught. 

"I'm sorry, you just... your outfit is- it's-" he stuttered, trying to explain himself.

"It's okay, I'm the one who wore the outfit," you told him. "Come on, take me where you want to, Kiri," you walked out the door and past him. 

After a second he followed you back to his car, and he unlocked it so you both could get in. 

The ride there wasn't very long, so you only got through a bit of small talk before you saw he was taking you to a mini-put course. You smiled as the memories of the last few times you had gone mini-putting, and you thought it was very cute that it would also be your first date with Kirishima. 

The man who checked the two of you in was old, and he could tell that you were on a date together. He had a very dopey smile on while you both got putters and balls, and when you were walking out the door, he called, "Have fun, you lovebirds!" When the door shut, both of your faces were bright red, but you looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

Still laughing, you walked over to the first hole. This one was probably the easiest, being the most straightforward with only a few obstacles. After that, though, it only got harder. 

The theme of the place was cute - it was a bit plain, being that it was outdoors-themed, with a few water features, but it was cute and it was fun. There were only a couple other people there, one group being a cute older couple that was almost done by the time you and Kirishima had started, and the other group being a small family that was about mid-way through the course. It was nice, though, because it meant that the two of you could go at your own pace, and talk about the things you wanted to, and just have fun together without any interruptions. 

At each hole, you tried to get Kiri to go first so that you could stand behind him and sneak a few looks. Sometimes it worked, but other times he would catch you and laugh, or he would refuse (so that he could do the same thing, even though you definitely caught him more times than he caught you). 

The evening was filled with laughter, teasing, and fun, and in the end, you both tied. At the last hole, Kirishima was in the lead by 1, and his first putt missed the hole by inches. He ended with 2 on the last hole. When your last turn came up, you gave it your best shot, even though you thought you weren't going to win. Your ball ended up making it in one shot, and when you went to pick up your ball out of the hole, Kirishima was there, his mouth wide open in shock. In the adrenaline of your comeback, you walked over to him. 

"Cat's game," you whispered in his ear, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and gently closed his jaw as you did so. 

Quickly you walked back into the check-in building, the heat in your cheeks rising extremely fast after that. You put back your ball and putter, told the older man that you would be right back, and rushed to the restroom. While you were in there, you took a second and washed your hands, calming yourself down. 

You hadn't bothered to see if Kirishima followed you into the building, so when he burst into the bathroom, you were only half shocked. The shock only hit you when you turned around, your back to the sink, and he grabs your hips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, his face red with blush, his voice deep, but a little desperate.

"Yes," you responded, your voice shaky with shock and emotion. The clash of his lips against yours was electric, sparking throughout your body. One of his hands reaches up to your cheek, while the other stays at your hip. Slowly, the one at your hip moves from its position towards your stomach, where he slides his hand underneath your shirt and up, his thumb brushing against the bottom of your cleavage. At the same time, he moves his lips from yours and towards your jaw, moving down to your neck. He finds your sweet spot and begins to suck, earning a small moan from you. 

"Kiri.." you start, but trail off when he continues. 

"Don't worry, no one's coming," he says, trying to reassure you. 

"Kiri, no," you pause, making him stop. "I want you, and I want more, I just don't want it here, in this bathroom at a mini-putt-course."

His bright red eyes change from hurt to confusion, to bright again when you tell him this. 

"Ohhh," he says, pulling away gently. "Shoot, and I still have to pay for the date, too. Good idea," he commends you, which earns a laughing smile from you both. 

Thankfully, when you leave the bathroom, the old man is turned around, reading something. Together, you walk up to the counter. Kiri pays for the time at the course, and together again you walk out and to his car. 

When you sit down, Kiri takes a second before he starts the car to move your hair out of your face and behind your ear. The contact is filled with electricity, and makes you shiver, only being able to hope he didn't notice. After putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, he puts his hand on your thigh, and you shiver even worse than you did seconds ago, goosebumps lighting up your skin. Discreetly, you try and close your knees to hide the heat pooling between your legs. You realize it doesn't quite work, though, when you see his smirk, and he proceeds to move his hand a bit further up. 

Once you get to his place, he moves his hand from your thigh to put the car in park, and you immediately miss the contact. You don't have to miss it for long, though, when you get inside.

The door barely closes before his hands and his lips are on you again, making your skin light up with electricity. He starts to suck on your sweet spot again, which also earns another moan from you. You can barely get out the next few words, he's making you feel so good already.

"Kiri.." you try to tell him. This time it works - his head perks up, ready to listen to you.

"Kiri, where is your room?"

The simple question ignites a fire in his eyes, lust being the fuel. Quickly and easily, he picks you up so that he is holding you by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck to help him, and he takes you to his room.

Gently, he places you on the bed, where you take a breath before you kiss him again, pulling him down on top of you. He takes this and moves his hand onto you again, one on the bed by your head, the other carefully placed against your stomach. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling it, showing him how much more you want.

Once again, he moves his hand up and under the bottom of your shirt, just underneath the cup of your bra, his thumb barely brushing it. The slight touch sparks electricity through your body, and it pools in your core.

You push back at his collar, and he lets you sit up enough to take off your shirt. His eyes are on you the whole time, and once you get it off, his jaw drops once more.

"Holy shit, you're beautiful," he says, still not taking his eyes off of you.

"Hold on a minute, though," he continues, once you reach out towards his collar again. "Are you sure you want this?"

The question brings back that warmth he shared from his smile weeks ago, and it was something even as simple as asking for consent. That warmth ensured that the fire burning inside of you right now would never go out.

"Kiri, I have wanted you since the first day we became partners for that project," you stated. "Yes, I am sure I want this."

"Okay, good, because I have, too," he says, and as you finally pull him down onto you, at the last second you flip him over so that he is on the bed and you're on top.

He grins wildly as you start unbuttoning his pants, and he helps you by taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You pull down his boxers to reveal his erection, and his huge cock. Your core throbs at the sight, and you fight the urge to lick your lips, failing miserably.

When you place your lips around the tip of his length, Kiri throws his head back with a loud moan. Slowly, you start to bob your head up and down, sucking gently as you did. Your hand stroked the rest of him as well, and you could tell the sensation was doing lots of things to Kirishima. He was moaning so loud, you were sure the neighbors could hear, but you didn't want to stop. Kiri tried (and failed) not to thrust up into your throat, but you didn't mind it too much.

"Im.. so close-" he said, just a few seconds before you felt his white hot release in your mouth. When you were sure you had sucked him dry, you swallowed, earning yourself another groan and a wild grin from Kirishima.

"My turn," he said. He helps you to unclasp your bra, your cleavage falling out and bouncing in front of his face. Quickly he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him, your back against the bed. Contrastingly slow, he pulled your leggings down your legs, revealing your underwear and soaking pussy.

"Wow, all for me?" He started, pulling aside your underwear and rubbing a single finger through your folds. This immediately follows by a groan from you.

"Yes- Kiri, all for- for you," you just barely manage to stutter out once he puts that finger inside of you and starts to pump it in and out. The action makes you bite your lip, trying to stop the loud moans escaping you.

When Kiri sees this, he grabs your chin and pulls it to face him, still not stopping his fingers inside of you.

"Don't hide your voice, I want to hear every single sound you make tonight. And no one is going to hear but me," he says, and you let go, loud moans breaking free from your lips.

"Atta girl," he praises, which only goes down to your pussy, where he adds another finger inside of you now. He hits your G-spot every time, curling his fingers just so that he can get it. And he definitely does - you were close to your release.

"Kiri-" you warn, feeling the string of ecstacy being pulled tight, about to snap. "Don't stop-"

You gasp as your orgasm hits you like a waterfall, ecstacy and electricity rushing through you as that string snaps. You cum on his fingers, the stringy substance coating his fingers thickly. You ride your orgasm out on his fingers, and once you're done, he puts his fingers in his mouth and tastes your sweet release.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he praises you. You're still panting from your orgasm off his fingers, and it doesn't help when he pulls your underwear off your hips, tosses it to the floor, and pushes your legs up so that your knees are almost touching your shoulders.

He lines up his cock with your entrance, and your eyes widen as you realize you are about to take his monster of a cock inside you. He passes through your folds a few times before he slowly enters you, one inch at a time. He gets through just the tip before he stops so that you can adjust to the pleasant burn he gives you. Once you're adjusted well, he pushes inside of you just an inch further. He pushes down to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp again as his dick hits your cervix easily.

You adjust to the burn quickly, and thankfully because he begins to pump in and out of you, earning multiple pornographic moans from you. You can feel the buildup of pressure already, building up like a wall about to crash.

Kirishima drives into your pussy, moans releasing from both of you as you get closer to your high. His hands roam your body, one cupping and kneadind your breast and nipple, the other holding onto your waist.

He fucks into you harder and harder, faster and faster, until you can feel the cracks in the wall, a dam about to burst. Your moans mesh together as you both reach your high simultaneously. The dam breaks, erupting as his does too, resulting in a mix of his and your release together at the base of his cock, still hilt deep inside of you. Your legs shake from your release, and the last few pumps of your orgasms fall out of you both.

You lay on the bed in ecstacy as Kirishima pulls out of your ruined pussy, gets up from you and goes to the bathroom to cleanup. He comes back with a towel for you, and helps you to clean up the mess that is the two of you. Once he is done, he puts your previously discarded clothes into the hamper, and gives you a pair of shorts and a too-big shirt for you to wear, and he changes into a loose shirt and boxers as well. He helps you change, and when the two of you are done, he climbs into the bed next to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

"So, does this mean I'm your boyfriend now?" He whispers. You turn around and push his forehead lightly back to play with him.

"I think we need to play another game to determine that," you reply, a coy smile playing at your lips, despite recent events.

"Or..." Kiri trails off, trying to think of a comeback or an easier situation.

"Or... what?" You tease him, giggling as you watch his eyes light up with an idea.

"Or I could just fuck you again, except harder," he states, and this time you can't tell if he's serious or not.

"Harder?" You whisper, thinking about how he could possibly do that after what he did tonight.

"Yeah, although we might have to wait until the morning to do that, cause then you can walk," he says, his tone nothing but factual. He places one last kiss on your cheek this time, spooning you in the bed. The kiss makes the warmth inside of you burn brighter, never to go out again.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work. 

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart. 

I don’t believe in religion, 

yet I do believe in Angels. 

Because I found mine, 

And she is absolutely divine. 

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile. 

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art. 

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.” 

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.” 

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[imagineweasley]

Puppy Love: Part I

Sirius Black x Fem reader

summary: you and your friends are fascinated by animagi and one day, decide to take a risk and become one. it proves to be an interesting experience - one day you are wandering the forest when things take a turn and secrets are revealed...

read part 2 here!

y/n: your name

y/h: your house

y/c: your color

word count: 2.4k

submit requests here! | masterlist

author's note: i tweaked a couple details about the universe in this story. this story takes place in y/n's fifth year at hogwarts, because that's the year the marauders became animagi. students at hogwarts canonically learn about animagi in their third year, but i tweaked it so that they learn during their fifth year so everything can line up!

--

Y/n's POV

Everyone has a rebellious phase. Usually it's harmless, but it gets out of hand when your friends are also in their rebellious phases and one of them also happens to be a potions genius.

We got the idea after Transfiguration one day after a class on animagi. Professor McGonagall ended class by telling us she expected an essay on the topic by tomorrow, which we all groaned at.

She yelled over the bustling of students gathering their notes and books, "No whining! I have a feeling some of you may like this subject more than you think you will." I may have been imagining it, but I swear her eyes lingered on me with that sentence.

"Y/n! Hurry up, I'm starving!" My best friend Calliope grabbed my arm and practically dragged me out of the classroom. Her curly brown hair bounced as I hopped behind her, contorting to shove the last of my notes into my bag, but lost my footing and dropped a page. I managed to get my arm out of Calli's grip and bent down to pick it up.

When I rose, I made eye contact with a pair of dark gray eyes.

I immediately recognized them as Sirius Black's, only because he and his band of friends were notorious for causing trouble and landing themselves in detention. They were the entertainers of Hogwarts and everyone in the school knew about them. Not only was Sirius known for being funny, but he was also strikingly handsome and all the girls fawned over him. He and I had never really spoken before, the last time being a couple weeks ago when I had been struggling to reach a book in the library and he had easily reached up and handed it to me. But of course I had mumbled something along the lines of "thank you" and practically ran away from him. I kept my distance because I could never speak full sentences around him, and I refused to make a fool out of myself in front of the cutest guy at Hogwarts.

When I registered that it was Sirius standing in front of me, my heartbeat climbed into my throat but I managed to swallow it back down before forcing myself to smile, and ask, "Hello, anything I can do for you?" Sirius thrust a piece of paper at me, turning slightly pink. "You dropped this."

I stepped towards him to take my notes back and our fingers brushed against each other. I swear he turned a shade more pink. I laughed nervously and said, "It's a miracle I still have my head, the way I manage to lose everything."

Sirius laughed, regaining his composure, "Don't worry, if I saw your head rolling around I'd make sure to return it to your body."

"That would be greatly appreciated, thank Merlin for you."

He ran his hand through his hair and opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted, "Oi Sirius, will you stop flirting with the poor girl and hurry up? Time's a tickin'!" James Potter was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, clearly amused at the sight of his friend turning bright red.

I felt my face get hot and giggled, "Better get going then, huh? Thanks again for my notes, I owe you." I turned while James laughed out loud and headed towards the Great Hall, leaving a very embarrassed Sirius Black to defend himself.

--

Sirius's POV

I propped my head up with my hand while Professor McGonagall droned on about the process of becoming an animagus. Usually, she somewhat had my attention during class, but this class was boring me because, well, because we had done it already. A few months ago, James, Peter, and I went through the shitty process of becoming an animagus so we could help Remus during his full moons, and I'd been enjoying being Padfoot for a while now.

My eyes shut for a moment, and the next second, it slipped off my hand and crashed into James's shoulder. He shoved my head off of him and McGonagall called, "Mr. Black, I do not care if I am boring you, I require all of my students to stay awake during my classes." She raised her eyebrow at me over her glasses and gathered her hands in front of her.

Embarrassed, I tried to play it off, "Yes professor, it's just hard to hold my head up sometimes. You know, the hair. Heavy." The class giggled and McGonagall gave me a stony stare before turning and returning to her lesson.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone bent over her paper trying to stifle her giggle and cover her face with her y/c hair. It was y/n. I smiled to myself and leaned back in my chair so it tipped backwards, proud that I had made her laugh. Then, still giggling, she looked up and our eyes met. Her y/c eyes were crinkled with laughter and sparkling, and my heart skipped a beat as she gave me a wide smile. I normally am someone who can play things cool, but for some reason, y/n has always made me a bumbling idiot. Whenever girls talk to me, I'm pretty smooth-talking and I never get nervous, but y/n... y/n's different. I've been trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for years, ever since we started at Hogwarts five years ago, but I just can't. My voice doesn't work around her, my face grows hot, and I start stuttering, which James takes as an opportunity every single time to tease me to no end.

So of course, when our eyes met, my legs jerked violently and I lost control of my chair. It fell back and crashed to the ground, sending papers flying. James, Remus, and Peter howled with laughter, and the class followed suit when they registered what had happened.

"Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall whirled around, robes flapping, and exclaimed, "Ten points from Gryffindor! And if you interrupt my class one more time, you'll be facing detention!" I sheepishly scrambled to my feet and fixed my chair. As the laughter died down, I could feel y/n's eyes still on me. She was probably still smiling at me, the smile that made me weak in my knees, but I couldn't make a fool out of myself again, so I kept my head down for the rest of class.

After class, I ignored the taunting of James and Peter, and shoved my things into my bag. I heard y/n's friend yell, "Y/n! Hurry up! I'm starving!" and watched as y/n was yanked out of the room, struggling to gather her notes, but she missed a sheet and it floated to the ground. I jogged over to grab the paper. Maybe this would be my chance to show her that I'm not a fool. I left James, Peter, and Remus in the classroom pretending to fall off their chairs and cackling.

Y/n was a good distance down the hall, still hopping behind Calliope to get her belongings together. I jogged over to her as she dropped a piece of paper and she bent down to retrieve it. I awkwardly stood in front of her, waiting for her to stand up and see me.

When she rose, she started and then smiled, and I knew I was screwed. She hadn't even said anything and my heart was already pounding. "Hello, anything I can do for you?" My face got warm and I cleared my throat. "You dropped this." She gratefully took it from me and laughed quietly, "It's a miracle I still have my head, the way I manage to lose everything." Our fingers brushed and I swear to god, everything stopped. All the chattering of students passing us muffled, as if I was underwater, and I caught myself forgetting to breathe.

Oh Merlin. That laugh. I took in a deep breath and tried to act casual.

"Don't worry, if I saw your head rolling around I'd make sure to return it to your body."

This made her giggle and my chest swelled again at the fact I had made her laugh.

"That would be greatly appreciated, thank Merlin for you."

I was about to respond when I heard James yell from behind me, ""Oi Sirius, will you stop flirting with the poor girl and hurry up? Time's a tickin'!" Remus and Peter sniggered next to James, and a couple other passersby in the hall smirked, looking amusedly at us. My face turned scarlet and I think I even saw y/n blush hard. I stuttered some sort of goodbye and sped away before she could see my head implode.

Seething, I shoved James and the group followed after me, still laughing. Remus smiled and said, "You need to act cooler around her Sirius! How long are you going to avoid that girl for? Five more years? How are you going to marry her if you never speak to her?"

I groaned and sped up, truing to leave them behind. There had been ONE TIME during our second year when we had snuck firewhisky into our bedroom, and after one too many drinks, I had flopped onto my bed and slurred, "Guysguysguys, I know who my wife is. I know imma-" I hiccuped, "imma gonna marry y/n. Just watch me guys, just watch me." The boys piled on top of me in approval, and the next morning, pushed through their pounding headaches, and in between dryheaves, made fun of how I would never be able to get the girl if I couldn't even look at her.

"When are you guys going to let that go!" I stalked off as fast as I could but Remus and James kept up, while Peter jogged a few paces behind.

"Never! I'm going to tell that story at your wedding!" James slapped my back, "Hey, you managed to get a sentence out at least!"

I didn't let the boys see, but a small smile crept onto my face thinking about the moment our fingers touched. I thought about how the sunlight reflected off of her face and how she laughed at my joke. I wanted to make her laugh forever. It was my favorite sound.

Remus brought me back to reality, saying, "Hey, lay off him," I turned slightly, foolishly thinking he was about to save me, "Our boy Sirius here did a heroic thing today, chasing a girl to give her a piece of paper." Then he laughed heartily and ruffled my hair. I groaned and pushed him off. "Fuck off, Remus."

I continued to speed up and they continued to tease me, but even the teasing didn't get to me. I just kept thinking about y/n and smiling as I walked myself to the Great Hall. And plus, I had gotten a sentence out to her.

--

Y/n's POV

"Where did you go!" I managed to find Callie stuffing her face with a mince meat pie at our usual spot at the y/h table.

"What do you mean where did I go! You disappeared on me!"

She shrugged as she took another bite and muffled, managed, "I dunno, I had places to be." I laughed and shook my head. I was about to tell her about my encounter with Sirius, but before I could, our other friend, Eleanor, plopped down across from us and leaned in.

"Girls." She had a serious air about her so Callie and I leaned in too.

"I've been thinking for a very long time about this. For about the last forty minutes. What if..." Ellie looked around, making sure no one was listening, "What would you lot say if I suggested we should try it?"

"Try what?" Callie had stopped chewing, confused.

"You know... becoming one."

I caught on quickly what Ellie was saying and my jaw dropped. "What do you mean? Becoming an-" I dropped my voice to a whisper, "animagus?" She nodded. My stomach flipped at the idea. My mind raced through all the possibilities. Keeping a mandrake leaf in my mouth for a month? Possibly getting the potion wrong? Getting caught and arrested? That all seemed tedious and risky, but I couldn't lie... it was the most excited I had felt about anything in a while. I looked down at my plate, playing with my food and thinking. I could feel Ellie's nervous energy seeping out of her. I'd always been a rule-follower, getting my homework in on time, never wandering the halls after dark, but something about this extremely risky suggestion pulled me in. Plus, Ellie's genius potion skills could reduce a lot of that risk... I pushed my potatoes around my plate with my fork, thinking.

"Well?" Ellie's fingers tapped the table and she looked nervously at me, then Callie, who was also staring at her plate, and then back at me.

I took a deep breath, let it out, and let my excitement take over. "Let's do it."

Ellie's face lit up and she grabbed my hands. "Look at you, you rebel! It's going to be so fun!" We both turned to Callie, still holding hands, to await her answer.

"Hm?" Callie lifted her head, "Oh, I don't know you guys, that is so against the rules and the process is so long... you heard McGonagall, it would take minimum a month..."

"Come onnnnn Callie, come on! Imagine running around in the forest as a wolf or a deer or a squirrel, just imagine! It would be sooo worth it!" Ellie practically bounced out of her seat. Callie sighed again, and stared at the ceiling.

"Callie, it wouldn't be any fun without you! You have to! Imagine how jealous you would be if Ellie and I did it and you were left out!"

A few more moments of silence. "You know what.... okay. Let's do it." Ellie and I squealed in excitement. "BUT. We have to be super careful. This could be really dangerous and if we get caught and I get expelled, I will kill both of you."

Ellie and I jumped in our seats excitedly, holding hands and squealing like little girls, while Callie rolled her eyes and smiled.

And that's how it happened. That's the moment my life truly began.

--

author's note: this got soooo long lol! i have so many more ideas for this story that it has to be multiple parts, and hopefully this was a good enough start! stay tuned for the next part!

[drrden]

‘Study’ Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

I headcanon Leon was smart in highschool - in History majorly. So...

There's always bound to be that one student who pays attention to a hundred percent of the lessons taught, not letting their attention falter for even a brief moment. As if missing out on a split second's worth of information could tarnish their grades and ruin their entire future. In the majority of your classes, this is none other than Leon Kennedy himself, a friendly guy who's typically on the quieter side. Predominantly during lessons though, that is, since he refuses to let any of his friends distract him from achieving the best results in the exams that he can possibly get. Perhaps it's the desire to distance himself from his past, the one he's buried deep within himself, limiting to it a certain degree of obscurity. Figuring that, if he's academically successful enough, then he won't get roped up into some shady side of society; someone from his biological family's past might catch up to him one day. No way is Leon letting him continue the legacy of the family he admittedly misses more than anything, despite having lived with his adoptive parents for the majority of his life by now. All of this could be the reasoning, some twisted sense of inferiority to his classmates who had normal childhoods. Or maybe, just maybe, he's smart. Could just be as simple as that, he's just a guy wanting to do well in life - but it just appears to come unnaturally easily.

The class that he's most successful in at the moment is History, having a profound interest for events of the past, and how they've shaped modern society. And it just so happens to be one of the lessons you share with Leon, despite your enthusiasm not being as evident or intense as his. As any student with a desire to pursue other things than being shoved into a cramped yet quiet classroom would, you're not always in tip-top shape to be paying attention to every little detail. That's where a certain well-mannered American of Italian descent comes into the picture, being your study pal. Not that he exactly volunteered for the position for himself, but he didn't exactly have it in him to deny you of the privilege - being far too polite to let you fail any of the tests due to having no clue about some of the course content. Though it was imposed upon him suddenly a few months ago, he still puts effort into your weekly sessions; bringing flashcards for you to keep, with summaries neatly filling up the rectangular cardboard pieces. Which are all color coded by the way. For once, the topic you're studying is at least mildly interesting, since it's from a period spanning between just before World War One to a while after it. Despite this, the weekly meet ups between you and Leon persist.

Which is where the two of you find yourselves once again, nestled away in a quiet corner of the school's library - away from all the jocks throwing crumpled up balls of paper as if they're still in middle school. Leon flinches a little when he hears them in the distance, still having a sense of anxiety that they're going to come over here and disturb the one time he gets to talk to you. "So. Uhm. The Treaty of Versailles." The words not exactly tumbling from his lips, instead he speaks stiffly - like English isn't even his mother tongue, as if he's reading from an automated speech. Offering an encouraging nod, you urge him to continue, accustomed to the pattern of his timidness easing up the further you get into studying together. "Yeah, that's what we said you were going to go over today." A gentle reminder, and that's all it takes for him to straighten up, clearing his throat and glancing round; as if searching for the information on the cracked walls of the building. Snapping out of it after a short moment, his attention flicks back to you, nodding. "Ah, right. So...Germany were expected to face repercussions for starting the war in the first place." For a while, he rambles on about the reparations bill and how their army was limited to 100,000 men, all the basics as he gives you a rundown.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out designated flashcards, decorated with little doodles and smiley faces, complimenting his endearingly messy handwriting. Leon passes them over to yours and you accept, fingers brushing against his momentarily - and you can almost swear you notice his unblemished cheeks redden partially. "You, uhm, seem to know a lot more about this than you do with other topics we've covered together." Though the sentence is more of a declarative, there's a tinge of a compliment within there, however he's much too unsure of himself to outwardly praise you. Not thinking much of it, you sheug, brushing the notion off with nonchalance. "Anything's better than learning about those art guys, Leonardo DiCaprio or whatev-" "Da Vinci." He corrects, eyes widening as he seems more caught off guard at his interruption than you are, having not meant to come across as rude. You him in response, not finding it not really offensive or anything, but Leon gets the wrong end of the stick. "Yeah-" "I'msorryIdidn'tmeantointerrupt." Being totally honest, you didn't really catch a word of that, but you've gotten the general gist that Leon's apologetic over one small interruption, but it's sweet in a way. Essentially panting over the exertion from speaking so quickly and letting his thoughts tumble out in an effort to soothe your nonexistent frustration.

It's like that awkward stage as a relationship is brewing, two people desperate to avoid any awkward silence when they're with the person who it's most enjoyable to talk to. But these introverted qualities only apply to Leon, and you offer him a blank stare - not deterred by his anticts in the slightest. Just continuing on as if nothing had happened. "Leon, it's fine." Though you brush it off, you can't help but notice there's a certain nagging feeling in you, sensing that his jitteriness is more prevalent than usual. "...Are you okay?" Following a quick glance around, you lean in and lower your voice; wearying over if someone else is around to hear. The answer is given, plain and simple, biting on the tip of his thumb and sharing his head frantically. "It's fine. Just the Literature test is coming up and I'm not exactly confident." Literature. You're actually decent at that, maybe he knows this already. Well, thinking of it now, there's not exactly been anything you've done to repay him. "I guess we could make our little rendezvous two times a week." A playful tease from you, but the suggestion is genuine. "And I do owe you a dinner, I guess." Looks like you'll be seeing a lot more of each other.