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[wosospacegirl]

Top of the League, Bottom of the Class

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

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

Word count: 7.4k

Notes: This was based on a request

Masterlist

..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yank.

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

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

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

She was in so much trouble.

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

"Ale? What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

Goal..yay?

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

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

"Yes, I know that," Y/n muttered. 

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

Oh no, Y/n knew what that meant.

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

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

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

Y/n froze and stared at Alexia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n shook her head.

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

Y/n nodded, looking away.

“Will it be the last?” Alexia asked.

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

So she forced the word out. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One Y/n had never met. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Having dinner?" Y/n asked.

"Sí"

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hm. Good piece of information. 

That meant that it wasn’t their first date…

Wait. Fuck

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

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

“Oh no!” Y/n said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh…oops?." Y/n cringed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A headache.” Alexia finished.

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

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

"No," Alexia said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then, Y/n noticed something strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sí," Alexia replied, completely unfazed. 

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

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

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

"What? No!" Y/n yelled.

"Sí."

"You can’t do that!"

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

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

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

“I don’t think I will.”

“We’ll see that.”

Y/n groaned again and rolled her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Guest room."

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

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

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

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

But of course, Alexia was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

..

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

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

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

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

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

She was dumb. That's what it was.

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

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

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

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

..

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

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

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

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

"Hmm… this isn’t about the email?"

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

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

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

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

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

“Leah!” Y/n groaned.

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

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

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

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

"What was that?" Leah asked

"I said that Alexia is a snitch."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me see your homework.”

“Oh come on, mate!”

..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was silence.

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

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

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

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

..

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re awful.”

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

“That bad?” Leah hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a routine, Leah.”

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

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

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

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

..

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Whack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

..

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you done your math homework?”

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

Leah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both Grace and Aggie squinted their eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Grace paled.

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

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

Y/n smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Algebra wasn't easy. At all.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n blinked. “Lucy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did it,” Aggie announced happily.

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

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

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

All forty exercises. All done.

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

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

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

“You…dared her?” Grace asked.

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

“Oh wow,” Y/n Grace.

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

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

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

Y/n and Grace exchanged wide-eyed glances.

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

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

..

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

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

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

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

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

Literally dead. Gone.

Football would lose one of ot’s brightest stars.

..

The flight back home was good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alexia and Y/n walked through the airport.

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

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

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

Y/n froze.

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

Alexia turned to look at her, eyebrow raised.

Fuck you Lucy, Texting Alexia? About algebra exercises?

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

Alexia just stared.

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

Alexia gave her an unimpressed, tired look.

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

Silence.

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

“Does Leah know about it?” Alexia asked.

“Yes.”

Silence again

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

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

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

Y/n was scared of what was coming.

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

“No!” Y/n said dramatically.

“Sí

“Ale! Are you serious?”

“I am serious.”

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

“Sí.”

“Even the locker rooms?” 

“Especially the locker rooms, nena”

Y/n groaned and dragged her feet after Alexia.

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

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

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

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

Alexia sighed, already regretting giving the girl any choice.

..

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

Masterlist

[retiredteabag]

Sukuna culinary school au

masterlist

The band of misfits that you would find in the Culinary Arts department consists of high school dropouts, older returning students, and raging alcoholics. It was not difficult to be at the top of the class when the majority of your peers were unable to assist their children with math homework, but there was one person who was in nearly every one of your classes who always received higher ranks than you did on practical exams.

He looked just about as raggedy as everyone else, if he wasn't such a star in the kitchen, you would guess that culinary was a last resort for him just like it was for the majority of your peers.

He had a long frame pressed tight to his chefs' jacket, his sleeves were always rolled up, tattoos covered his forearms and just above the collar of his jacket, black lines peeked out. Tufts of spiky hair poked below his white pillbox chef hat.

"Ryomen, dammit, I told you to quit wearing t-shirts under your uniform!" The chef yelled from the corner of the kitchen, everyone looked up from their stations to laugh at the man.

"Chef..." Sukuna pulled a scandalized look and set his santoku on a cutting board. "Respectfully, I don't need you checking me out through my white coat." He brought his gloved palms to cover his pecs.

Guffaws.

The Chef circled around behind the tables and smacked the man on the back of the head. "And we're all grateful you cover up," The older professor rolls his eyes, "but no patterns under the uniform, hear me?" He looked around the kitchen.

A chorus of 'Yes, chef' came from every station.

"Plain undershirts, yes?"

The chorus of responses echoed back.

"Good." Before he heads to his office to look at photos of students shitty knife cuts, he faces Sukuna. "I'm taking points off your daily grade."

Sukuna tugs at the collar of his jacket.

You mix your crème anglaise on the stovetop.

--

Daily grades account for 60% of the final grade, which means that homework, tests, and presentations made up for very little.

You lost points from your daily grade for all sorts of witless, subjective reasons. Your participation was lacking? Subtraction. Your attitude wasn't respectable? Subtraction. Part of your uniform or knife kit was missing? A point for every item. You had a piece of jewelry in a piercing? Huge subtraction. Worst of all? If you were late, you were in for some serious public humiliation.

The tank your grade would take, even if you missed so much as one class, could only be made up by coming to the kitchens to help out in other classes. And with everyone working full time, a bunch of students being parents, and the commute to take into account-who had the time?

Here's the truth: you love food, you love to eat, and you love cooking. It was a huge passion of yours. Even considering this, when you weigh your skills to your classmates, you weren't all that great.

You did everything right, you followed the Chefs to a t, memorized every recipe, and read every textbook handed to you. But for some reason, your food just wasn't as good as you thought it should be. It wasn't as good as the stuff that was fed to you.

Baking was more your speed. Instead of recipes, you had formulas, very specific and hard to mess up. You thrived there! But when it came to cooking, no matter how much effort you put in, the Chef would simply hum and set your dish aside.

You never scored below a 90 on any assignment. Servsafe? No problem. But for some reason, your kitchen work was just never praiseworthy.

Don't get me wrong. You were a great cook, all your friends said so. But when compared to your classmates, your dishes were just...decent.

Ryomen Sukuna had the opposite issue. He never even looked at the recipe, he hadn't cracked open a single book, cooking or otherwise, since god knows when, and he hardly paid attention in lectures. He flunked his ServSafe the first time he took it and had trouble with even the most basic of assignments handed to him.

And this was culinary school, all the assignments were painfully simple.

But something about his food...It was undeniable, he had a gift that couldn't be taught.

--

Your parents had practically disowned you when they heard the words, "Culinary Arts" escape your lips. First, though, they laughed.

Surely you were joking. You? With the perfect test scores and college credits? You? With an acceptance to any and every school you could dream of attending. You? With "too bright a future" to waste yourself in that slag heap of a school.

Sukuna, ever your foil, had a family that was just proud he decided to further his education at all. It didn't matter what he did, as long as he was taking care of himself, they were happy.

You weren't jealous of the guy, please, he couldn't figure out a baker's scale, but when he routinely got top marks for his practicals with no practice, when guests at the school's restaurant praised him like a god, when he could whip up something just about anyone would fight for in just twenty minutes? You could say you were a bit...bitter.

It didn't help that he never seemed to care. The guy worried about nothing, how he was perceived, how his actions might affect him, or how his words might get him in trouble. One would imagine him a mess, and maybe there was something uncouth about the way he would slink into the classroom with his chefs' coat unbuttoned, the way he would brush his hair back before hiding it under his hat, the way he would spread himself out at a desk while taking a written exam. Glasses on with a palm to his forehead.

He never seemed fully prepared. But he wasn't unclean. You guess that's to be expected from the Chef De Partie of a locally famous dinner spot. His station was organized, he had his mise en place in order, and he never left dishes in the sink.

So what bothered you so much about him?

He didn't have to try. It came so easily to him. He wasn't just a natural talent; he had passion, and even if he turned assignments in late or got information wrong in the classroom, his food spoke for itself. He was respected for it.

He was content to be the best. Even if he couldn't answer a single question asked of him, even if he forgot basic conversions everyone else knew, and even if he struggled to retain exam prep. He knew food like no other. So nobody could look down on him.

--

You were sat in the break room between classes, laptop open, filing through the Google Slides nobody in your group had even touched. This was the same situation you had found yourself in all this week; nobody in your nutrition group could be trusted to pull their weight for an assignment, even if the importance of the presentation was rehashed every other day.

You know what that means: you were pulling the weight for them.

It wasn't fun eating a pack of spearmint gum for lunch three days in a row, but since you didn't have a class that ran through mid-meal this semester, you found yourself working on assignments before your afternoon lecture.

One of your classmates had joined you briefly to "look for ingredients in the dry storage." All while you ranted to her about the ratio of emails to responses you had from your nutrition group.

"Eh, fuck 'em." She shrugged, checking the clock above you, "Chef will be able to tell who put the work in and grade accordingly."

You knew she was right... it was just the principal.

"Hey, have you eaten?" She seems concerned for a moment, as if she's realized you hadn't anything with you. Waggling the sticks of gum you have left at her, she scoffs.

"There's something deeply ascetic about living off sorbitol in culinary school." You chain-smoke the last piece, using the wrapper to trash the one you were just chewing. She makes a disturbed face at you.

"You need serious help." She checks the clock one more time before waving you off, heading back to the garde manger kitchen.

You're looking over your notes again, trying to prepare yourself for this stupid presentation. You've got a headache, maybe it's the artificial sweetener, maybe it's the fact that you've missed a few too many lunches, but you almost miss him when he enters the break room.

You can't exactly miss the plate of hors d'oeuvres and canapés that are slid across the table where your gum wrappers lie.

"How are you planning to become a chef if you don't make time to feed yourself."

Sukuna is unusually tall in that moment; he's never been in such a state so close within your reach. You shift your eyes between him and the plate he's brought in.

You're quiet for a moment. "Are these for me?"

"No, they're for the other person here." He rolls his eyes, and you don't need to check that the two of you are alone.

Classic mom, your friend had gone and told everyone in her class that you hadn't eaten lunch. Looking at the food before you, you're not going to pretend you mind when you have all these little goodies.

"Just come down if you're hungry, we've got plenty of food." Sukuna is just about to round out of the room, his tufts of hair sticking out under his hat, his sharp tattoos licking up the back of his neck just thereunder.

The door has almost shut by the time you speak your thanks.

It only takes a couple of bites of the delicacies for you to be able to tell that the food was not prepared by some novice student. They were Sukunas. And he had brought them for you.

Your headache is gone, but now your brain is wrestling with the idea of the effortless talent himself being thoughtful.

[zyafics]

PROOFS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — Rafe x Academic Weapon!Female Reader

Summary — When you're at a party instead of finishing a math assignment due tomorrow, the answer suddenly comes to you and you need Rafe's help to finish it.

Word Count — 1.6k.

Content — established relationship, fluff, suggestive tone (implicit), and Rafe being a frat bro. Reader is an academic weapon and nicknamed "Ace" by Rafe's frat brothers.

Dedication — to @winterrrnight because of her comments on my initial post and dedicated to the anon who has to take the 3-hour test in a couple of days, i know ur gonna do great!

You should definitely be studying.

Instead, you're at a white lies party hosted by Rafe's fraternity. The Greek letters shining in white neon lights behind the DJ booth, which is blasting 2000s throwbacks.

The air is electrifying with a drunken buzz from the copious amounts of free alcohol from the kitchen. You were one of them. While you didn't have much, other than the red solo cup that Rafe got for you when you first arrived, it was enough to send a thrill through your system and loosen you up.

You're dancing with a random group of girl friends you found upon arrival, swaying your hips to the music with your head tilted back and a smile gleaming from your lips.

Rafe is watching you. Despite being with his frat brothers, off on the edge of the room and talking about the most random shit, his eyes always search for you from a distance. Making sure you're okay. Making sure no guy is messing with his girl.

When his gaze connects with yours, he tips his head to his direction, gesturing for you to come over. You, in your docile state from the singular beer, listen and pardon from your drunken pack of new friendships.

Rafe's arm wraps around your waist as you approach, dipping his head to deliver a greeting kiss. When you pull back, you’re a bit breathless.

"Hi, baby." He says through the loud volume of the party, the resonance of the speaker blasting the music is pumping through your body and matching your heart rate. "How's the party?"

You shrug. He knows you're still worried about your math assignment due tomorrow. It's the same paper you spent the past fourteen hours camped out in the library trying to solve. Rafe took one look at it and couldn't offer any assistance but neither was coping up in the study room till your brain is fried helping either. So, he invited you out, hoping some alcohol and music would relax you.

It works. Sort of. You are having fun, but the lingering reminder of your assignment sits in the back of your head. Edging your brain, trying to piece together the answers when you know it's there. It's a matter of time.

"Hey, Ace." One of Rafe's frat brothers, Lucas, greets. "How you been?"

You turn to him, blinking through a bit of your haze to recognize the face. "Could be better," you answer, grabbing the red solo from Rafe's hand and taking a sip for yourself. "Do you guys have anything other than beer?"

"Slow down," Lucas chuckles. "You barely attend any of our parties and you wanna start off on something hard?"

"I already drank the beer." You retort. "I gotta get something stronger. Make me forget about all my responsibilities for the night."

Rafe shakes his head, taking the cup back out of your hand and downing the rest. "You're gonna figure it out," he affirms, low enough for only you to hear, to calm your doubts and worries about getting the problem set done. "Just give yourself a break."

You frown but don't say anything else. Rafe returns into an easy conversation with the rest of his brothers, talking about an upcoming event or some random sorority girl one of them hooked up with, and you tune out. Your eyes glaze over to the dance floor in thoughts.

Your mind falls back to your mathematics. The problem flashes through your head, in perfect memory, as you recount the instructions. You consider what you were missing. Since you've been away from the assignment for the entire evening, your mind is clear from all the symbols and equations that were melting into the page.

Now, it comes fresh.

And suddenly, it all... clicks.

"Oh my god." You mutter to yourself. The shock reverberates to the rest of your body. "Oh my fucking god."

Rafe catches the end of your sentence and glances over to you. You don't look at him, pulling away from his grasp and making a direct beeline to the exit. You don't leave—no, you have no time to go back to your dorm and write this down—instead, you go to the front door where a couple of freshman brothers are acting as in-house bouncers for the party.

You tap their shoulders, and when they turn, grab the marker off the table. You don't bother to tell them, immediately uncapping and begin scribbling the problem onto your arm.

Just a few lines in, you realize it won't be enough space. The proof is too big.

Your mind is spinning. You can't go home. You won't have time before the answer flees your drunken brain. But you can't write it down. You don't have space.

Then, an idea crosses your mind.

You rush back to the dance floor, searching for Rafe. He remains at the same spot as he was last time, and when he sees you approach him, frantic and hurried, his brows pull together in concern.

"What's wrong—"

"Come on," you grab his hand and pull him away from his brothers. You don't bother apologizing for interrupting their conversations. Since you are well-acquainted with the house, you pull him to the back where you know there won't be many people.

You were right. Saved for a few drunken make-out sessions spread across the lounge, no one was there. You pull off to a quiet corner, mimicking the couples, and release your hold on him.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?" Rafe thinks he heard you wrong. You were always more conservative when it comes to sex—at least, the location—that the command seems like an auditory hallucination in his ears. "You wanna fuck?"

Normally, you would flush at such crude remarks, but you found none of that today. Too concentrated on saving your work on physical evidence, trying to remember your answers before they fade away.

He doesn't do it. He thinks you're joking.

Since he isn't complying, you start clawing at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him yourself.

He chuckles to himself. He thinks you're drunk and horny. A nice combo he has not seen from you so far. "Really, baby? Right here? I mean, I don't mind—"

"Shut up." You shush with a mumble and Rafe pushes your hands away, finally taking off his shirt for you. The white lie scribbled in his handwriting: I said I don't hate you, is thrown on his arm.

"Happy?"

You didn't even get the chance to admire him. The tone muscles. The perfect planes of his chest. Instead, you say, "turn around."

"New position?"

"Shut. Up!"

All he does is laugh, catching the attention of a couple of college students who pull away from amorous kisses to spare a glance in your direction. While there's a faint heat tinting your cheeks, from your boyfriend's words, you don't care. You were in a feverish state.

Rafe does what you say. He turns and you uncap the marker, starting at the edge of his shoulder blades and begin writing down your proof. Your assignment requires you to prove an equation for being true, utilizing implicit differentiation, trigonometry identities and partial derivatives. You've been stuck on it for the past three days.

Now, it's coming in waves. Of course you would shift it around. Of course you would have to cut the variables in half and move them to the other side. Of course you would forgo the x for the z, and vice versa. Of course, of course, of course.

Rafe feels the tip of the marker moving against his skin quickly, in rapid succession, trying to get everything down. At the rate you're going, you could be smearing the answers across his back instead of getting to your solution.

When you finish, your hand aching from how fast you were going, his entire back is covered in mathematical symbols and equations. Your eyes check through your proof, descending down until you get to his waist, and clears it's correct. "Done."

Rafe turns back around, raising a brow.

"What did you just write?"

You beam in pride. "I just finished my homework."

"On my back?"

You laugh, your lips pulled together in a genuine smile. Something he's glad you're showing off, after seeing how stressed you were with figuring out the puzzle. He’s proud of you. "I told you you'll get it. My brothers call you Ace for a reason."

You roll your eyes at the nickname. Since Rafe goes off and always brags about how smart you are—how you are the first one in your class to raise your hand, how you graduated valedictorian from your high school, and how you've been on the Dean's List for the past two consecutive years—his fraternity brothers has declared you a clear winner. An Ace, if you will.

Rafe glances down at you, at your white lie written across your short top, and licks his bottom lip.

"What?" You ask.

"I find it unfair you get to write shit on me but I can't do the same."

"What do you want to do? Sign my tits?"

He gives you a look that says that isn't a bad idea and you roll your eyes at your boyfriend. Of course.

You uncap the marker, handing it to him. He takes it, leaning forward and tugging down your white top to reveal your bra and begins scribbling his signature across your breasts. You giggle at the sensation.

When he finishes, you glance down to see he did sign it. Alongside with another message.

Not Rafe Cameron's Property.

"God, you're a caveman," you declare with a laugh, knowing this follows along with the white lie protocol.

"And you're mine."

He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He doesn't even bother to throw his shirt back on; displaying the intelligence of your scribbles on his back in full glory.

"Now, let's rejoin the party and celebrate."

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[latenightdaydreams]

Hiiii! I really adore your writing and I’ve literally binged all of it 💕💕💕💕

I was wondering if you could do a story on Loser/Nerd! König kinda like tutor but it’s a girl who asks for help who generally has a crush on him and adores him and she’s all sweet and kind to him. Like all lovey dovey and affectionate!

I hope you have a good day!!!!💕💕💕💕

Thank you!! 💖💖

Nerd!König X Soft!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, v-card loss

2.5k word count

📖

.

.

You sit in class and look over at König, the tall Austrian student that recently moved here. His blonde hair is always unkept and his eyes tired. There is an aura about him that pulls you to him like a magnet. While he tries to appear stoic and mysterious, you see him casually peering over at you. A curious look in his eyes as he analyzes you.

Both of your eyes meet for a split second before he spins his head, looking back at the whiteboard. Your gaze lingers before you look straight ahead as well. Once class ends, König stands quickly, his long legs assisting him in fleeing the lecture hall quickly. You watch, blinking, as he fades away into the hall.

It’s right after statistics class, so you knew he’d be going to the library to work on the assignments we’ve been given; assignments you need his help with. That’s not the only reason you want to find him though…

With one deep breath, you decide to go through with your plan and approach König. You walk casually though campus as you mentally hyper yourself up. Other than sharing glances, you’ve not talked to König. What if you simply forget how to speak?

König sits with his air pods in while he works on equations using his iPad. Despite being nearly seven feet tall, he tries his hardest to go unnoticed; sitting in the back corner of the library. He is unaware that he has eyes on him, your eyes.

His sky-blue eyes look up and meet yours as you approach him. König looks around. Maybe you’re meaning to approach someone else? Even lost in confusion, he can’t resist but to glance at your body as you walk. You’re shaped perfectly, exactly his type. The fluid motion of your curves and breasts bouncing pulls him in. Then you stop right in front of him. With one hand, he takes an air pod out and places it back into the case.

“Hi!” You struggle to conceal the delight on your face as you finally get to speak to König.

“H-hallo.” König looks confused. Are you going to yell at him for always checking you out?

His accent is so dreamy. You think to yourself.

“I’m y/n. We have the same math class together.”

“Ja, I know who you are.” He sits back, wondering what this is about. The struggle to keep his gaze above the neck is real.

Without saying anything, you pull a chair next to him and sit. He looks down at your small size as you sit there. The tension in the air between you two is so thick you could feel it consume the surrounding room both.

“I was wondering um—” A rush of nervousness floods through you. “I know you’re amazing at statistics. Incredibly smart.”

Your sentence pauses as you take a moment to get lost in his eyes. The way you are gazing at him is as if you’ve already fallen in love. His cheeks go red as he looks at you.

“Well, I guess I just wanted to ask if you’d have time to tutor me?”

König let your question hang in the air for a few seconds as he looked at you. Have you always looked at him like this? He realizes he wouldn’t know because he avoids eye contact with you. Maybe tutoring wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I can.” He says simply trying to not let it show how excited he was to spend time with you.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I am—”

“I’ll be by your dorm room by noon.” You say with a large smile and turn to walk away.

König just sits there with his mouth hanging open as you walk away from him. A thousand thoughts running through his mind all at once. He quickly packs up his bags and goes to his dorm to clean it up for your arrival; he doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob.

The next day at 11:59 am, you knock on his door. When König answers you smile up at him and hold out a Tupperware container. He gazes down at you and cautiously grabs it from your hands as he steps aside to let you in.

“They’re homemade Jelly Donuts. I saw in Austria they’re really popular so I figured it would make a nice thank you gift.” Your voice is cheery, hoping he likes them.

König’s eyes light up as he opens the container to see six donuts carefully lined up and dusted with powdered sugar. He picks one up and takes a bite. His eyes flutter closed and he nods, enjoying the sweet apricot jam in the middle.

You can’t help but to smile as you watch him enjoying himself. A light dusting of powdered sugar covers his lower lip. Without a second though you use your thumb to gently glide across his lip, cleaning it for him.

“You had a little sugar.” You giggle as he looks at you. His heart thumps inside of his chest.

As he enjoys his donut your eyes look around his dorm room. König watches you as you do, feeling nervous that you might mock his collection of Gundam models that he’s spent hours building. Instead, you gravitate to one of the models of Beargguy.

“You have a Beargguy gunplay?  I think he’s so adorable! I have the pink one built.”

Did she just say gunplay? She’s perfect. He thinks to himself.

“Um yeah, I have the panda one too. I just haven’t built him yet.” König says, whipping the powdered donut dusting from his fingers onto his jeans.

“Maybe when we are done with tutoring me you can give me a tour of your models?” You smirk as you sit on his bed.

König doesn’t know what to say other than nod and agree. Dirty thoughts flood his mind as he watches you sit on his bed so casually. How would it feel to touch your skin? Kiss your lips? He shakes his head and walks over to his iPad and textbooks so he can start tutoring you.

He sits on his bed next to you, his knee bumps with yours, causing you to feel a rush of excitement being so close to him. The same rush travels through his body. There is a tension he is trying to ignore as he fumbles open his iPad.

As he does, your eyes are glued to his face. His blue eyes look stunning as they read over notes on the screen in front of him. Your eyes watch as he uses his fingers to scroll and tap. Without a second thought, you reach your smaller hand over to his knee and rub.

König’s eyes drift from the screen down to your hand on his. He swallows, but there is no movement to push your hand away, but there is a rush of heat to his groin. Finally, he turns his head, his blue eyes gazing into your eyes.

“I think you’re really amazing.” You say in a soft tone while being physically more forward.

König turns to you, his eyes roaming up and down your body before coming back to your face. This is his moment, the change he’s been waiting for. His hand comes up and cradles your face in his hand. The feeling of your hand moving up from his knee to his thigh causes his cock to get hard. A girl has never touched him this way.

His blue eyes darken as his pupils expand from arousal. You lean in and kiss his lips gently at first, waiting to see if he will reject you. As you pull back from the kiss, you look at König, awaiting his reaction.

König leans in and kisses you again. His kiss is needy, instantly opening his mouth against yours. You reciprocate and open your mouth, your tongue reaching out to swirl around his. A low guttural groan leaves his lips as your hand reaches for his erection. He pulls back from the kiss to look down at your hand as you grab him over the fabric of his jeans and jerk him slightly.

“Y/n…” He moans before kissing you again.

You kiss him back before pulling away and kiss his neck, gently licking his pale skin. It only adds to the euphoric feeling of you touching his cock. His hands go to his jeans and unzip them, releasing his leaky cock for you to grab.

A soft moan leaves his lips as he feels your smaller hand wrap around his shaft. He gazes down as you pull his foreskin back, jerking him off. Little droplets of precum trail down onto your hands, acting like lubrication and assisting in your motions.

“Your cock is so fucking big.��� You whisper as you drop to your knees in front of him.

His eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, he can feel his cock twitch as you kneel in front of him. Your hand moves down to the base of his shaft as you lean forward to put the head of his cock in your mouth.

You suck lightly, eyes meeting König’s to watch his reaction. As you lower your head down further on his cock, König lets out a whimper. He tosses his iPad aside to get comfortable as you suck off his cock. He gently runs his fingers through your hair before grabbing slightly. He gently helps you through the motion, bobbing your head on his cock for you.

Loud sucking sounds fill the room, like music to his ears. He watches as spit forms at the corners of your mouth and spills down his cock. Your full lips wrap so perfectly around him. He lets out a shaky breath as he drops his head back. You let out a soft moan on his cock, the hum vibrating through him.

You pull your head back with a pop off of his cock, eagerly your tongue runs up and down his erection. His hand moves away from your head as he leans back on the bed.

“I want to fuck you…” He whispers, almost as if he didn’t really mean for you to hear him. You did.

Without a second thought you stand up and begin to strip your clothing off. König’s eyes widen as you do. He feels like now he should be honest with you because what if he’s bad?

“I’m…I’ve never been with someone before.”

“That’s okay, I can teach you.” A small smile of pride on your face for being his first intimate experience.

König follows your lead and undresses completely. You haze over his body, slightly chubby but you can tell he’s extremely strong. He stands looking over your naked body, his eyes zeroing in on the small bush covering the mound of your cunt.

“How…do we start?”

“We can start simple. Do you want me to ride you or you on top?”

His eyes move as if he is deep in thought. The idea of watching your breasts bounce wild as you ride him sounds amazing, but he’d probably cum faster from the visuals mixed with the pleasure. “I want to be on top.”

“Okay.” You crawl on the bed, ass up in the air as you go to his pillows and lay down.

König moves on to the bed with you, his enormous frame approaching yours. His eyes drop down between your legs as he kneels in front of you on the bed. A pussy. Your pussy. He’s always wanted to know what you smell like, taste life. He lowers himself slightly while his hands pull your legs apart more.

König flicks his tongue out and licks your folds lightly. His eyes dart up to yours to see your reaction. You nod, encouraging him. He presses his face closer and takes a longer swipe with his tongue and…my god. After one taste, he couldn’t stop. Not a thought in his mind as he buries his face between your pussy lips, lapping at your folds and missing your clit.

“Go up more.” You instruct him. “Like the little hood area.”

He moves his tongue up, flicking it quickly. Your eyes flutter and legs begin to twitch. König realizes he’s making you feel good. It excites him like no other. He doesn’t stop as soft moans begin to leave your lips freely. His eyes stay locked on yours as his lips begin to thrust into the mattress beneath him to get friction.

“You taste so sweet.” He says quickly before diving back down between your thighs.

A small smirk appears on your lips before another moan comes out. You gaze down at him and comb your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well.” The way you say it with a tone of desire lights the fire within him.

“I’m sorry, I want to feel you so badly.” He says as he pulls away from your core and moves his body between your legs.

He rubs the head of his cock along your folds and feels himself shutter at the feeling of your warmth and wetness. His eyes are down gazing at your folds spread open for him. He leans down and kisses your breast shyly before kissing your lips.

“Can I—”

“Yes.”

König gazes back down at your pussy as he watches his cock get swallowed by your cunt squeezing him. His eyebrows pinch from the orgasmic feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him. A loud moan escapes his throat as he fully shoves his cock into you.

“Oh fuck!” He groans loudly as he pulls back and slams into you again.

The feeling he’s giving you is euphoric as you gaze up into his eyes. He watches as your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his motions. A melody of pleasure leaves your lips encouraging his speed to quicken.

He gazes down at the creamy streaks your sweet pussy is leaving behind and his cock. You look like a perfect angel beneath him. The look of pleasure on your beautiful face is something he wishes to see over and over.

“König!” You moan out as your nails dig into his arms.

Hearing you moan out his name was just too much. König leans back and grabs your legs, spreading them wide apart. He thrust into you quickly, losing his rhythm and just chasing his orgasm that’s quickly building.

With one final hard thrust, he slams into you and leans over your back. His lips needily finding yours, kissing you as he cums into your pussy. You can feel his cock throbbing as you rock your hips against his. König pants and rests his heavy body on yours, pressing you into the mattress.

“I’m sorry…” he says panting, “I didn’t make you cum.”

“It’s okay.” You kiss his neck and caress his sweaty back. “It was your first time.”

He shakes his head, pulling out. “I want to make you cum.”

König looks into your eyes as he parts your legs and drops onto his stomach. With the adrenaline of having just lost his virginity, he takes his time this time. He kisses down your thighs, softly biting your supple flesh. His eyes drawn to his white cum leaking out of you.

“You’re so perfect.” König says to you as his lips get closer to your cunt. “Be mine. Bitte.”  

[starry-crossing-zone]

Oh, Captain - Rex (TCW)

Summary: The 501st is getting a new Co-General and Rex wants to be prepared. His brothers, however, dare him to flirt with a woman at 79s the night before. Length: 1370 words Warnings: Unnamed Female Character (Can be Read as OC or Reader); Rex's Horrible Flirting Skills; Fives is a Menace

79s was packed full of clones as usual, though the color scheme of the night was predominantly blue and yellow for the 501st and 212th. They had just finished a battle together in the Mid Rim and returned to Coruscant to resupply before they shipped out again. And in the case of the 501st, they were on Coruscant to pick up their new Jedi general. 

It was the only reason why Rex went out that night in the first place. 

He had to make sure that all of his men were presentable for their meeting with the new assistant general, who had been assigned to the battalion so that General Skywalker could be called away more often. General Skywalker assured Rex that the new assistant general wouldn’t be that much of a stick in the mud, but Rex didn’t want to take a risk. 

“Oh, come on, Rex, you heard the General. The new general’s fun. Have a drink for kriff’s sake,” Fives urged, placing a drink in front of Rex. 

“I’m all set, Fives,” Rex replied, pushing the drink away from him. 

“Who is the new assistant general, anyways?” Echo asked curiously, leaning over. “The Commander didn’t have a name.”

“I bet they’re a brand new Jedi. Young like General Skywalker,” Jesse stated, earning some nods. “He mentioned that they trained together.”

“It’s not for us to speculate,” Rex replied, earning a sigh from some of his brothers. “We need to be prepared. I don’t want the new general’s first impression of us to be that we look sloppy.”

“Oh, relax, Rex,” Cody spoke up, causing the rest of the 501st to perk up. If anyone could talk some sense into Rex, it would be Cody. “You’re going to be fine. Have a drink. We were just in trenches on a dustball for fifteen rotations. Or maybe make a new friend.”

“Like her,” Fives interjected, smacking Rex on the shoulder. 

The entire table turned to watch a humanoid woman take a seat at the bar. A woman alone in a clone bar? It would be about five seconds before she was swarmed. But there was something about her that intrigued Rex. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was just something about her that drew all of his attention without any work at all. 

“I’ve never seen her here before,” Echo stated as the woman ordered a drink. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing her around,” Fives spoke up before glancing at Rex. “And looks like you wouldn’t either, Captain.”

“Not all of us think with what’s under our codpieces, Fives,” Rex grunted in return. 

“I’m thinking that they are, though,” Jesse pointed out, gesturing to two clones who made their way over to the mysterious woman. “Hopefully her first experience with a clone isn’t one of Fox’s shinies. She’ll never come to a clone bar again.”

Rex glanced over at the woman again before getting up from his seat. Fives looked over at Echo with a shit-eating grin, to which Echo simply rolled his eyes. Rex walked around the bar, nodding to his brothers that he passed, but keeping his gaze on the mystery woman and the two clones that sat down next to her. 

But before they got too far into a conversation, she seemed to say something with a seductive smile and his brothers got up and left her alone without a word of protest. Now, downright curious, Rex found his legs carrying him over to the woman. She turned her head and their eyes met for the first time. His heart seemed to stutter as he took the last few steps toward her. 

“They weren’t bothering you, were they?” Rex asked, causing the woman to smile. 

“No, not at all. I told them that I was just looking for a drink and nothing more. They seemed to do the rest of the math.” She took a sip of her drink, peering over the rim of her glass and practically into Rex’s soul. “Sorry if you were planning on playing hero, Commander.”

“It’s Captain, actually. Captain Rex,” Rex introduced himself, causing the woman’s eyes to widen a small fraction. 

“My apologies, Captain Rex.”

And there was that arrhythmia again. Was this woman part-siren or something?

“You can just call me Rex,” he assured her, causing the woman to smile softly. “And what exactly should I call you, ma’am?”

“Anything but ‘ma’am’,” she quipped, taking another sip of her drink. “You’re making me feel a little too old, Captain.” 

Kriff, he could get used to her calling him that. 

They got to talking. Not so much specifics about themselves, but rather life around them. The GAR, galactic politics, the drink menu. Rex didn’t even realize that he literally didn’t know any basic facts about the woman until she got up to leave for the night. 

“Do you come to this part of town often?” Rex asked, causing the woman to chuckle. 

“Not usually, but I suppose I could make an exception . . . Captain.”

Rex watched her walk out the door before he was suddenly swarmed by brothers, rattling off question after question. Up until Cody, as the highest ranking officer of the bunch, took control of the situation and asked one simple question. 

“What’s her name?”

Rex opened his mouth to reply, but instead winced, causing his brothers around him to groan. 

“He’s hopeless,” Fives sighed, shaking his head. 

“He was hopeless the second that he decided to follow your advice,” Echo pointed out. 

*~*~*~*

Rex walked through the rows of his men, inspecting them one last time while the General and Commander brought aboard their new General. Co-General. Whatever. Either way, Rex wanted to impress them. And that meant that his men had to be in tip top shape. But when he heard the doors to the hangar open, Rex quickly took his place at the front. 

Only to nearly drop his helmet when he recognized the woman walking with Anakin and Ahsoka. And when he heard Fives’s giggle, he could only swallow down a choice set of words.

“And here’s our captain, Rex,” Anakin introduced, causing their eyes to lock for the first time since the bar. “The best of the best.”

“I would expect no less,” she replied with an easygoing and mischievous smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Rex.”

“You as well, General,” Rex practically choked out, trying to not sweat through his blacks. 

“Rex, this the new co-general,” Ahsoka introduced, adding the general’s name. “She was Master Plo Koon’s padawan and served with the Wolffe Pack.”

“Why’d you leave it, General?” Rex directed towards the new general, who smiled at him. 

“The Jedi Council needed someone to babysit General Skywalker and because I value public service above my own sanity—”

“—This whole spiel again?” Anakin complained, causing her to turn to him. 

“You're just upset because Admiral Yularen laughed in your face when I told him what happened back on Corellia when you—”

“—Perhaps we should move on to the rest of the tour,” Anakin stressed, causing her to smirk. 

“Of course.”

Anakin and Ahsoka led the way through the rows of troopers, though she lingered behind them. Looking over her shoulder, she offered Rex a smile that made his heart stop for a moment all over again. 

“I’ll be back to meet the full battalion formally once the rest of my briefings are concluded. If that fits with your timeline, Captain?”

“Yes, of course, General.”

“Great.” She offered him a curt nod before that smirk returned. “And next time we’re at 79s, drinks are on me, Captain.”

The galaxy was testing him today, that was for sure. Rex watched her walk off with Anakin and Ahsoka before slowly putting his bucket back on his head. 

“Fives,” he growled out. “You have exactly five seconds before—”

Fives took off in a sprint across the hangar and Rex took off after him. Echo sighed and shook his head before turning to his comms. Sending Commander Cody a message that Rex did learn that the woman that he was flirting with last night was the new general, Echo couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Fives evade Rex. 

“Well, this is going to be interesting.”

[seat-safety-switch]

When I became a junior detective, I got assigned to work with Detective Math. Bob Math is a legend in the department: he uses arithmetic and problem solving to crack unusually number-specific cases. He's got a nemesis, of course, all the cool detectives back then did. Al Gebra kidnapped his wife once, tried to ransom her for a plane to Mexico. Math didn't stand for it: after figuring out the complex polynomial sequence that revealed the address of the shitty dockside warehouse he was renting, he subtracted a couple of Al's digits using a cleaver.

Thing is, he was all a fraud. One night, while we were riding from one case to another in his beat-to-shit Dodge Rampage, he told me that he never actually graduated high school. Back then you could get away with it, most of the detectives in his generation got there because they had read a book on detective skills by accident while their partner tortured an informant. He didn't know shit about math, in other words. One of the staff sergeants saw him (poorly) doing a Sudoku one day and decided he must be good at math, fast-tracked his detective exam, he was afraid to say no, so now he's "the detective who's good at arithmetic." Math wasn't even his name, either: he took his wife's name in the divorce to keep the scam going.

All this is prologue to the thing that really mattered: our big case. It seemed normal at first, a political corruption thing. "Sorry it's not a numbers racket! Haw!" shouted the chief as he handed out the assignments. Even so, there were still a lot of numbers.

It seemed like the Mayor Himself's Assistant Herself had been helping Herself to some dirty money from various car dealerships in exchange for a favourable ruling from the land zoning department. One of the spoiled rich kids that owned a Chevrolet dealership didn't get what he wanted out of the deal, and blew the whistle. Two days later, he was found dead in a truck stop bathroom, beat to death by a calculus textbook. Math's involved? Get me Bob Math, they no doubt thought. Detective Math was used to it, and he went about the usual pantomime in his role: carrying around an old Texas Instruments calculator with no batteries in it, interrupting meetings in the precinct to measure parts of the room with old bits of string, the whole schtick. Then we went down to City Hall to get a confession.

You guessed it: it was the mayor's assistant's teenage daughter, Becky-Sue, who did in Ted Chevrolet. She was the work-experience hire, selling Topkicks out of the back to her mom's friends, and finally had enough of him skimming her commission. Bob Math sighed as he realized that yet another murder case of his had involved percentage points of a dollar. He would have to put on his fake professor glasses to explain it to the media.

Even so, the press conference went great. The assembled reportage beamed with pride as they hung on every bullshit word of our imaginary arithmetic hero. Something didn't add up, though. I didn't notice that that cameraman in the back, who was missing a couple fingers, until it was too late.

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Loud Silence | 1 | JJK

Pairing: Doctor! Jungkook x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Your life was grey. Just like his thoughts, like his emotions, like his memories. And you ignored it all, the pain, the sadness, the unbearable silence... All because your heart told you to stay when your mind screamed at you to get away from the drowning force of Jungkook's obsession.

Warnings: ANGST, employer x employee, patients in a coma, medical terms, detachment, low self-esteem, diseases, symptoms, death, Jungkook is married, fluff?, yearning, child neglect? (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N: Chapter 1 is here, darlings! I am so excited for this story and I hope you will like it as well. I'll do my best to keep updates as fast as I can but please be patient with me.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! I'd love to hear from you!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

“Remember you have your fencing practice after your chinese lessons today. They were all moved an hour as Mr. Min had an impromptu. Then you’ll have your piano lessons at five instead of four sharp.”

Your words were met with a boring sigh and an acknowledged hum. Ji-hoon was busy with today's study material you had given him that morning. He sat at his desk, hunched over the textbook while a YouTube tutorial of the math problem he was solving was paused on the large screen of his computer. 

“Thanks, (y/n)”

His reply was dry, monotonous. Your heart clenched but you kept your straight face. Adjusting your posture, you lowered your tablet with Ji-hoon’s updated schedule and looked around his big room. The bed was made to perfection, the books on the large shelves were cleaned and organised and the curtains that often covered the ceiling-tall windows were open and the view of the gardens could be appreciated if only the boy would turn around and admire nature. 

You turned around, ready to leave Ji-hoon to his studies. The sound of your heels on the white polished floors filled your ears. It was a sound that was too loud, or maybe the room was too quiet. Instead of Ji-hoon’s animated storytelling of his day, he sat in silence contemplating his assignments, instead of the big screen in his room playing some sport as background noise, the smart TV was off. You didn’t remember the last time he had even turned it on. 

“(y/n)?”

You stopped. It had been the first time in days, maybe even weeks or perhaps months, since Ji-hoon had called your name with emotion. With the lace of doubt and vulnerability in his words. 

You turned around and watched as he leaned back on his chair but looked at you with doubtful eyes. His hands fidgeted with the pen more than usual and your heart sank at how nervous he looked. 

You tilted your head to the right, a subtle movement that seemed to bring him out of the lake that drowned his thoughts in doubts. Ji-hoon took a deep breath and you waited until he spoke. You didn’t pressure him. You never did. You already knew how much pressure the boy had, the weight he carried on his shoulders was one no fourteen year old child should carry. 

“Did you ask him? What did my father say?”

You blinked. Staring at Ji-hoon with the same monotonous gaze he already got used to when looking into your eyes. 

“You already have everything you need here. Your father doesn’t believe that you going to school would benefit you in any way.”

Ji-hoon turned back to his desk, his eyes downwards. The grip on his pen loosened and it pained you how soft his voice sounded when he spoke again. 

“Of course he doesn’t.”

His mumbled words pierced your heart. You wished there was something you could do to help him. To ease his loneliness that stood rooted in his heart. But that choice was not yours to be made. And so, you tilted your chin up, your grip tightening on the tablet in your hands. 

“Your father knows what is best for you, Ji-hoon.”

But the boy just scoffed at your words. For he was not sure whether to feel sad or disappointed or angry or frustrated. For he felt it all at once. You didn’t linger. Your steps echoed once more on the polished floor as you left the room that was too big for a teenage boy alone. 

Once in the hallway, you leaned back against the closed door. It pained you to see Ji-hoon so helpless when it came to decisions that concerned his life, his experiences, his memories. But it pained you more, that it had not always been like this. 

There had been a time where he had smiled, where he had laughed. 

The household had been happier. And yet, now all it was left of that happiness was the shadow of laughter in the wind. 

You walked down the large hallway, the lights hanging on the walls illuminated your features, your steps were calculated; monotonous. The house was big but silent. Your heart was lonely yet it still yearned. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows and as you turned left to descend down the large staircase, you paused. 

Looking over your shoulder, you looked at the portrait of Ji-hoon and his father, renowned doctor and scientist, Jeon Jungkook. And yet the boy was the spitting image of his mother. With a sigh, you turned away and continued your journey down the stairs. The ground floor was just as silent as Ji-hoon’s room and with quiet professionalism, you walked to your right, going into Jungkook’s study. 

You didn’t look at Jungkook’s piling paperwork on the desk, you didn’t pay attention to the already filled bin by the chair that was mostly empty. You didn’t dare look at the portrait of her. Jungkook’s wife. It was a painting he had commissioned after they had gotten married. A piece of art that now hung over the dry fireplace.

Seo-yun. 

A name that was once a blessing of the household was now a curse. You didn’t look at her portrait. You didn’t have to. That painting that looked like a mosaic was engraved into your heart due to Jungkook’s melancholy when he gazed upon it. 

Instead, you walked to the very back of the room and into the door Ji-hoon was forbidden from ever entering.

The warmth of the empty house, the soft colours of the walls and the faint smell of books vanished when you crossed that door. The lights were white, blinding in their nature. The smell of chloride and antiseptic reached your senses. Your heels announced your presence as you entered Dr. Jeon’s private lab. 

He was aware of you before you uttered a word. Jungkook sat on one of the stools, his posture rigid as he looked into the microscope once more. 

“Sir, the conference this Friday has been cancelled. Doctor Kim called, his flight was delayed and he will not make it so the board decided to postpone the event.”

Jungkook looked up at you, his gaze met yours. Calculating and monotonous. The lab was in pristine condition. A sea of exams and samples were on the table, all labeled accordingly. And yet the whiteboard that hung over one of the walls was filled with loose handwriting. Notes, thoughts, symptoms, hypothesis… Jungkook’s mind was plastered on that board. An organised chaos. The eye of the storm of his subconscious. And the contrast was big. Between his wild mind and blank stare, it almost felt like falling down a rabbit hole of confusion where nothing was clear and nothing was known. 

“Very well. Is there anything else I need to know?”

You straightened, letting your hands fall to your sides holding the tablet with your right hand. His stare was intense, dark compared to his pale skin. It had been some time since he went outside and allowed the sun to kiss his skin. 

“No, sir. Everything’s on schedule.”

He hummed. It was a deep sound that reverberated through your spine and tingled your nerves. Jungkook went back to look down at the microscope with the same indifference he lived his daily life. His hands were firm when he adjusted the lenses, his jaw was tense while he scribbled away notes and observations on a notebook at his right. 

You wanted to speak, to ask him so many things. But you didn’t know how to start. You never knew if it was wise enough to start speaking with him. He was so volatile, so silently unpredictable. Your perfect, rigid posture sagged a bit as you let out an inaudible breath. The lab was quiet, too quiet. Just like Ji-hoon’s room. 

You hated it. 

You hated that silence that strangely calmed your mind as well. 

Jungkook changed the sample he was observing, his movements mechanical. The latex of his white gloves stretched as he flexed his fingers and he spoke without looking at you. 

“If you have something else to say, (y/n), do it and go. I have work to do.”

You swallowed, remembering all the times he had spoken softly to you, all the times he asked if you could assist him in any of his experiments. All the times you had felt seen by him. Jungkook may be your employer, your boss and perhaps you were just his assistant, his secretary and Ji-hoon’s caretaker. But you missed the times when you had been more; or at least when he had made you feel more than that. 

“Ji-hoon asked again, sir. He… keeps insisting on the idea of going to school.”

The doctor let out a deep sigh, almost in annoyance, in exasperation. It hurt to think that he saw his son like that. 

“He asked me to tell you to reconsider it. He is lonely, sir.”

Jungkook let go of his pen, the sound as it hit the notebook was dry and it almost echoed in the silent laboratory. He leaned back slightly, his eyes bored; nonchalant. But it took you a second, a single heartbeat for you to see the vulnerability behind his icy glare. 

“What should I do, (y/n)? Must I throw him into the world carelessly? If I do not make it, Ji-hoon will be the only remaining part of Seo-yun.”

Your gaze softened for right now, he was not the famous and brilliant doctor, he was a man whose heart had been broken by his own passion, by the hands of science. He was a father scared to lose his one and only son.

You took a step forward, intending on consoling him, advising him. But that single step brought him back from the dark pit that were his thoughts, his doubts. His walls rose, his eyes hardened and he straightened once more. And before he pushed you out completely, you spoke again. With that same professional voice, that delicate tone you always used when addressing him. 

“You are a man who would do anything for his family, I have witnessed it more than once. You are taking into account his safety, I’ll just ask you to consider his happiness as well, that’s all.”

Your eyes flickered to the glass wall. The only wall that separated the lab from the confinement area where Seo-yun lay. She was on oxygen, her slender frame as pale as ever. She lay still, unmoving. Barely breathing. Kept alive by the sleep Jungkook drowned her in. 

You didn’t linger. You couldn’t. So you turned away, not once looking back and missing Jungkook’s soft eyes as he watched your retreating form. You left him thinking, and that was something few had ever achieved.

The smell of cooked ricotta lasagna filled the spacious and minimalist kitchen. The warmth of the oven radiated towards you as you washed the used dishes. It didn’t take long for Ji-hoon to paddle into the kitchen, guided by the delicious smell of homemade food. 

“What are you making, (y/n)?”

He asked out of politeness, already knowing the answer. He sat down on one of the stools on the counter and you felt his eyes on your form while you gave your back to him. Putting away the last of the spoons you had used to make dinner. 

“Ricotta lasagna, I know you like it.”

You dried your hands, missing the way Ji-hoon smiled at your words. Though it was a fleeting reaction, it didn’t not reach his eyes. The timer on your phone went off and you silenced it, grabbing the oven mittens, you took the refractory out, the glass warm against your covered hands. 

You placed it on the counter and took the mittens off. The smell was delicious and this time, you didn’t miss Ji-hoon’s delighted smile at the thought of the homemade dinner he liked so much.

“You should call your father.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke while grabbing a knife and cutting the lasagna into neat portions. The golden cheese stretched slightly as you pulled the first piece free, steam curling into the air. 

Ji-hoon pursed his lips, the smile vanishing from his youthful yet handsome features. His shoulders stiffened as he rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes dulled once more and his demeanour returned to that loneliness that crept into his heart like poison ivy. 

“He won’t come.”

The boy murmured. You looked up, frowning gently at the sad acceptance in his voice. 

“Did you ask him?”

“There’s no need. He’s always busy.”

His tone was light, almost indifferent, but you knew better. You placed a plate in front of him, offering a small smile and hoping the food would content him, if only for a short moment. 

“Eat first. I’ll take him a plate, maybe he’ll come next time.”

Ji-hoon didn’t argue. His silence pained you. He simply looked at you with doubt and hope in his eyes at the same time before he picked his fork and began eating his lasagna. Without another word, you plated another portion and covered it with foil to keep it warm. Grabbing a tray, you added a glass of water and arranged the covered dinner before your feet carried you out of the kitchen. 

You passed the big dining area, the table too big by the solitude that ruled over the house. They walked past the grand staircase, the yellow light from the big chandelier illuminating your features. 

You entered Jungkook’s office, once more ignoring the staring and gentle portraits of his broken family as you went directly into the lab. The sweet aroma of freshly made food was left behind when you entered the lab for it faded into the crisp sterility of his workspace. 

Jungkook was exactly where you expected—standing by his microscope, brow furrowed in concentration. He barely acknowledged your entrance.

“Sir, dinner.”

You placed the tray on the nearest table, making sure it wouldn’t get in his way. But the sound of the tray hitting the steel counter made him speak in that cold and monotonous voice of his. 

“I’m not hungry.”

You didn’t move, only blinking at him as you studied him with an unreadable gaze that guarded the secrets of your heart. 

“Ji-hoon was waiting for you.”

Silence. 

For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he straightened, removing his gloves before finally looking at you. His gaze flickered toward the tray, lingering for only a second before shifting back to you.

“I have work to do.”

You swallowed the words you wanted to say. The ones about how Ji-hoon had barely touched his food after you left, how the boy’s excitement had dimmed the moment he realized his father wouldn’t come. But Jungkook knew. He had to know.

“I’ll leave it here. At least eat it before it gets cold.”

Jungkook said nothing, he turned his gaze away from you. His dark eyes were fixed once more on the chamber where Seo-yun slept. His jaw clenched, his thoughts were a myriad of emotions he hadn’t been able to decipher since that day when his life turned dark and his hopes died like embers. 

But even in the silence, you noticed. You saw his pain, his obsession, his dedication, his melancholy. You saw it all. Even when the house, when his work, when your heart drowned in this loud silence that cursed your existence.  

And so, you left. Leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. Alone with his doubts and guilt. He noticed when the warmth of your precedence left his lab, he noticed when he could no longer smell the floral aroma of your perfume. He noticed how your steps faded into the house, away from his and his grey emotions. 

And yet, later that night as you passed by his lab again, you noticed the tray was empty and Jungkook stood in front of the glass that separated him from Seo-yun. Drowning in the loud silence of his thoughts. 

February/01/2025

Current Taglist: @toosweetforyall @jksusawife @ttipa @mageprincess7 @chxiosworld @babyitscoldoutside @user-190811 want to be tagged? Let me know!

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[jokerislandgirl32]

Wild Kratts Academy?

Okay, this might be a bit of an out of the box idea, but what if the Wild Kratts Crew hosted a school or summer camp for the Wild Kratts kids (and any of the fankids created by members of the WK fandom)?

It could either be like a boarding school situation where the children travel/live with the Wild Kratts for a certain part of the year, and they are with their families the rest of the year.

Or, it could be a summer camp type deal where they join the Kratts for the summer and hone in on important educational skills and animal/environmental knowledge (I feel like this is probably the more logical option, but I’ll explain both scenarios below the cut).

For the boarding school option….During the time they are with the Wild Kratts, they would learn not only basic skills (reading, writing, math), but there would, obviously, be a huge emphasis on science/creatures! Namely, science or creature based activities would be utilized to help teach the children.

For example: The kids need to learn their letters and sounds, so they will go find creatures whose names begin with those letters/sounds. Or, the children need to learn counting: welp, let’s take them out to count the number of elephants in the herd. And those are just some basic/kindergarten level examples (kindergarten educator here 😂).

Different members of the Wild Kratts team would be assigned to different subjects and age groups. All members would assist with the science part of course, but they could each take specific subjects/age groups.

Perhaps Koki could teach reading/language arts to younger children. Chris could teach math to older students. And so on. (I’m just brainstorming here, I’m not sure which subjects would fit which WK member best, if anyone has any advice or suggestions, feel free to add them in a reblog!)

I also love the idea of the villains, redeemed in this scenario of course, taking part in the learning venture. I feel like Donita would be a fabulous animal (inspired) art teacher. Gourmand a wonderful culinary teacher, specializing in vegetarian meals or foods that are made to look like animals, but are not made from animals.

For the summer camp option, it would be much of the same concept, but instead of having an emphasis on educational activities geared to learn core content knowledge, the activities would be focused solely on science/animal/environment based learning.

With this option, I feel like Aviva would take on a great part of the leadership role, and she would formulate the camp activities to reflect those similar to the experiences she and Zach shared at science camp as children.

Speaking of Zach and the villains…

Funding for such a program could come from grants or donations, and I feel like Zach, and to a lesser extent Donita, Gourmand, and Paisley, would be the individuals responsible for many of these monetary aids.

In turning to the side of good they wanted to help the future generations not turn to villainy against animals and the environment like they had. So, they would use their own money to help ensure the program is well funded.

And if my OC Violet was part of the action in this scenario (speaking specifically of the boarding school option)…. I feel she’d totally be responsible for the academics for the youngest Wild Kratts Academy members: the kindergartners and 1st to 2nd grade aged students.

As a bit of a side note, but also a possible explanation to how this program may have started, I’ve played around with the idea of Zach and Violet homeschooling their children. After some input from @novazentryx I truly feel like this would be the best move for Zach and Violet with their own children.

Due to their work life and busy schedules it would be difficult to remain in one place and allow the children to obtain schooling in a traditional setting (because Zach and Violet join the Wild Kratts Team in the years following the births of their eldest children).

So, Zach and Violet would already have their children with them, so perhaps they could be the “pilot children” for the program. Along with some of the Wild Kratts kids we know and love, and fankids/children of the other Wild Kratts characters (in my AU the fankids created by @rosey100 @lovelynurseandhenchman and @octoqueen10 exist so maybe your fankids will join in or will participate in the summer camp option if not full time/the boarding school???)

Anyway, I hope all of this makes sense, feel free to add to this post if you all would like!

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Deuce

As much as Deuce appreciates his Housewarden’s assistance with studying, he would like to have another perspective this weekend. Not even angry, Riddle is already one step ahead, secretly messaging you to help his underclassman.

When it comes to your duo of Heartslabyul companions, having Deuce with you only is a much easier experience. Not that you hate having Ace around,b uty ou like having a focused study session, too.

When Deuce arrives at your dorm, he comes with extra bags, which Riddle explained will happen.

Who knows? Perhaps, the weekend will help him retain his studies, texts Riddle.

You welcome Deuce back to Ramshackle as politely as one does.

Deuce shuffles through his school bag. “I stopped by the dining hall to pick up some burgers for dinner. I thought we’d be hungry by now.” He pulls out the wrapped burgers and hands one to you.

“Thank you, Deuce. I already had snacks ready. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t say that. After this weekend, I owe you big time.”

“We’ll figure that out later, Deuce. How about we pull out the books and get started?”

The both of you gather around the coffee table, homework spread out into complete and incomplete piles. The both of you get through the basics fine. It’s when you get to Potionology that Deuce starts noticeably struggling.

“And here I thought math was hard. This is all a foreign language.”

You, too, have struggled with Potionology at first, but thanks to a few tips from Epel and some upperclassmen, it reminds you of something else to help you remember some things. Perhaps, Deuce can better understand with what you’re going to tell him.

“Potionology is like…athletics.”

“Huh?”

“You’re on the track team, right, Deuce?”

“I’m not sure where this is going, but yeah?”

“What does Jack tell you about form when you run?”

Deuce closes his eyes and thinks. He explains that Jack and he have to position their bodies to start and maintain momentum while running.

“Well, Potionology is sorta like that. It needs all sorts of things to keep going. Without the form, the potion won’t work as it should. Like in exercising, it needs fuel, so that’s why we need these ingredients to keep the potion going.”

With your explanation of things, Deuce is starting to understand more. It’s a slow process, but the spade boy is noting everything to work the assignment out.

Speaking of fuel, you do thank him for the food. The burgers are very much needed to keep the stomachs from distracting you both. After some grueling hours of homework, it’s time to get yourselves washed up and comfortable for bed. As the guest, you let Deuce wash first and then, you take your turn. Once you are done and dressed, you pass by the guest room to see how Deuce is fairing. The spare room door has a small slit of an opening. You peek in to see Deuce catching  up on his last piece of studying. You figure that he should have a cup of tea to keep his mind steady.

You brew a pot, return with the finished tea in hand, and find that it’s hard for Deuce to stay awake.

“You alright?” you ask.

Deuce straightens his back. “Oh! Uh, yeah. It’s been a day is all. Is that tea?”

“It is. I have English breakfast if you don’t mind.”

Deuce chuckles. “I’ll take what I can get.” He thanks you for the offering and takes a long sip of it, as if he’s been craving it for the past few hours. “Ah! It’s good to expose your taste buds every once in a while. I hope I’m not being a bad friend being cooped up in here. That test on Monday is gonna cause me to lose sleep.”

“I don’t blame you. You want to do your best.”

“Well, I wanna pass. Best and pass aren’t exactly the same thing.”

“You may be right, but you’re already doing well. Sometimes, over-studying is not good for you.”

Deuce sighs. “I just wanna be someone I can be proud of, ya know? I spent way too much time flunking on my studies that I now need to play catch up with everyone else.”

You pat Deuce’s knee. “You’re already caught up. You’re better now than you were at the start of the year.”

“You think so?”

“From you showing me your scores, most definitely. You even earned your “better than Ace” bragging right.”

Deuce bursts out laughing. “Now, that’s what I call overselling, but thanks.”

To further relax your friend, you tell him to lay down the books and offer to just stare at the ceiling and ease away from the academics. It’s not good to have a busy mind at night. This is when the exhaustion truly kicks in as the both of you pass out without a word in edgewise, not that you’ll mind in the morning.

[alaskan-wallflower]

things i loved on my second reread of the outsiders since eighth grade (mostly the curtis bros because i love them)

ponyboy is fucking hilarious

darry looks ‘just like the curtis’ dad but acts the exact opposite’

darry instantly regretted smacking ponyboy

darry likes being teased by soda

soda ‘looks like a greek god’ (greek mythology hyperfixation went off + new art refs!!)

soda thoroughly enjoys the feeling of being in love

pony is the heaviest smoker out of the curtis brothers, soda only smokes to look tuff and darry is too proud of his body to smoke

darry is 6’2’’ and his muscles are like ‘oversized baseballs’ according to pony

soda’s nickname used to be pepsicola

soda calls ponyboy honey and darry calls him baby (i swear if i get an anon saying this is anything but platonic im gonna jump off a building)

soda had a horse named mickey mouse that he had to give away

pony and soda both cried at their parents funeral but darry just stuffed his hands in his pockets and wore a ‘helpless pleading look’

the gang refers to darry as superman

darry works two jobs and makes good at both

all three curtis’ have gigantic appetites and darry cooked two chickens before the rumble because of it

soda hates when his brothers fight

darry used to be super close to his dad

when darry saw ponyboy it was (supposedly) the first time pony had seen him cry in ages

the end of chapter 6 where pony got reunited with his brothers ohmygosh that was my favorite part of the whole book

even darry wouldn’t wanna get into a fight with dally

darry would be a soc if it weren’t for the gang

darry was voted boy of the year and was on a football scholarship

darry checks all of pony boy’s math assignments to make sure he’s doing them right

darry full naming pony when he caught him smoking in bed made me laugh

pony has almost red hair (another reason why i like the musical pony over movie pony)

pony hates most people with green eyes

soda has warm brown eyes that can go from happy and cheerful to blazing with anger in a second

darry would be really good looking if it wasn’t for his cold eyes

johnny’s scar goes from his cheek to his temple and it’s really hard to look at

darry is harder on pony than his parents were out of fear that pony’s gonna throw away the same opportunities that he had before his parents died

pony is a grammar police

soda is really bad at spelling

dally’s death was actually an assisted suicide (i didn’t catch into this when i was in eighth grade)

darry doesn’t like movies

two bit and steve got kicked out a church for horsing around once (i think it was them, idk)

darry and paul used to be best friends

ponyboy felt really bad because he didn’t think he asked for darry enough when he was sick

it was kind of implied darry feels that pony favors soda and vice versa

soda and darry tickle ponyboy out of bed in the morning

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Games in the library 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader (Tutor/gamer au) Fluffish and also smuttish

Tags: smut, library fucking, public sex and nerdy gamer references.

Cool devider credits: saradika

🔷Summary: Your GPA is tanking and you need help. Luckily there is the grumpy antisocial Aemond to help you out.

🔷Author's note: Based on tutor aus but I made my own spin on it.

🔷Wordcount :7324

🔷Warnings: Au universe, smut, desk fucking, p in v, dom/sub, reader x aemond, fluff, gamer references, cozy gamer gf and shoot-em-up bf (found something else? Let me know)

There have been quite a few storms lately, causing more rain and making the world a little gloomy. You don’t mind, however. You have always been a fan of rain. Unlike today, where it’s an extra reminder how much you rather spent inside, cooped up with a good game with a warm cup of hot chocolate, not running around your campus with your bag above your head, as if life depends on it.

You are relieved when you make it inside, in the beautiful library that was built long before you began this study. You notice a silver-haired boy with a missing eye sitting in the corner of the room, with his math books in front of him, impatiently glaring around, unaware you are already there. “Hi!” you enthusiastically say, placing your Starbucks coffee cup and handbag on the table in the big messy library you just entered. It’s a saturday so most students would not want to be found death here at this time. 

You have a reason to be here, sadly. You are failing math, falling behind more and more on the subject. So your professor, Borros assigned you a very unwillingly tutor, Aemond Targaryen. He sighed when Borros suggested he should tutor you, even going as far to say that there is no use in tutoring someone who does not want to learn. There is truth in that, but the issue is not that you don’t want to learn. It’s something else.

Aemond glares at your cup before standing up and checking the time on his expensive smartwatch. “Why are you late?” Great. You were afraid of not getting here in time, seems like your Starbucks trip took a little longer than you had planned out.

You take out your phone. You are exactly 5 minutes late. There was a big line in front of Starbucks. And you forget you had tutoring today, to begin with. “I—uhm—forgot the time.” You lie.

He looks at your Starbucks cup accusingly. If it had feelings, the cup would feel attacked, perhaps even insulted, before it would hop off the large wooden table and into a nearby trashcan, ending itself. You would gladly follow it in the rabbit hole trashcan.  “I’m sacrificing my free Saturday for you. The least you could do is get here on time.” There is always a bit of a gruff, Gringe-like edge to his voice as if someone just stole his presents and he is pissed.

You huff. He acts so high and mighty, and yet you know there is nothing personal about this. He does not help you because he is some godly angel. He helps you to get points. This is not a charity project for him, or a social project this is cold selfishness and part of his plan to become the best student of your class, likely a step 4 in his 10 plan step to world domination.

You smile sweetly when adjusting your ponytail. “You aren’t sacrificing anything. You get points and the chance to become Borros’s TA.’’ You tell him, dangling his reward in front of him as if it’s a carrot, just in case he thought about bailing.

He dreams of that position for some reason, though you can’t for the love of the gods figure out why. Perhaps for status, power, future learning references or just to get close to Borros? Your teacher  had hinted that if he could somehow get you to improve your grades, there might be a chance he would become his teacher's assistant. That was enough to sway Aemond into teaching you.

Aemond briefly pushes his gold-rimmed glasses back on his nose, smirking at you.  You feel a little nervous under his gaze. “Correct. That means that I decide how this lesson will proceed.’’ 

His cryptic description makes your mind wander back to the familiar gutter you have come to know so well. You  make a mental note to stop reading dark romance books with tutors for a while. 

You ignore him. That makes him eager to get your attention back. “No calls, no texts—for the next hour, you are at my mercy.” Sweet gods.

His soft pink lips briefly smack before breaking into a grin that sends shivers down your spine. You are thankful for the small bolero that covers your dress.

Aemond is a huge nerd. Kinda cute, but he doesn’t know how innuendos work. And he is certainly not aiming his innuendos at you. 

“Okay. So, you’re like good at math, right?’’ you ask, a little insecure. You are worried he might not actually teach you anything at all, though he is smart, his hands almost always scorching through the air as though Borros is personally offending him with his questions. He reads advanced math books whenever you and your girlfriends hang out in the library, shooting glares whenever you are too loud, giggling or gossiping.

He seems insulted that you think so lowly of him.”’I’m the best in our class.” You never really kept eye on who is the best of the class, and you do not really ever cared. Who cares, as long as you keep up your GPA it is all fine.

But you are not dumb, you need to keep him as your friend for now. At least your ally. Your accomplice? You don’t know. You think you would be all the way at the bottom. ‘’Impressive.’’ You say, but you can’t bother to meet his eye before taking a sip of your very delicious pumpkin spice late.

His head tilts slightly when he narrows his eyes suspiciously, reading you as a open book. He huffs. “I can tell you don’t give a damn. Take out your notebooks, study books and whatever else you might need. It is time we start.” Whatever else you might need? You feel dread and anxiety fill your chest as you become aware of your thoughts traveling already far away from the lesson.

He brought an adorable little digital clock, that he puts on the table gently, before turning it on, exactly 120 minutes. He really does not want to be here a second longer than he has to be.

You faithfully take out your notebooks decorated with Sanrio stickers, Pokémon stickers and panda stickers, as well as your textbook, and your collection of Hello Kitty gel pens. You put it all out for him to see, flicking the textbook open in front of you. 

Aemond stands up, briefly looking over your handwriting in your notebook. He wets his lips before speaking. “Good girl.”

You roll your eyes.

He gets up from the chair across the table, walking to the empty seat next to you. He sits down, glancing at some of your previous sums, together with little drabbles and doodles. “So—what do you have problems with?” 

You can feel the warmth of his body and smell the fabric softener he uses on his clothes. He probably does his own laundry. 

This will be a long hour. You sigh, before summing it up. “Addition and subtraction, analog time, multiplication and division…’’ And you forget dozens of other things.

Anything and everything that involves numbers. You have been that way since a kid, throwing tantrums whenever you were forced to do math or make a puzzle. Your brain blacks out whenever you are forced to make a sum, and after a while your brain is just completely fried.

He wrinkles his nose, thinking. “So, everything?’’ he summarizes dryly. 

You nod. “Yep.”

His good eye slightly widens. “I can do this,” he mutters, to himself more than to you. He taps on an empty page of your notebook with his fingers.

‘’Write down ‘twenty-five plus eighty-seven’.”

You obey, faithfully writing the sum down in your notebook with your favorite Hello Kitty glitter pens. 

Aemond looks at the pen with a sigh, bending over your notebook to see what you wrote down. His brows furrow. 

You try your best to focus on his voice and his words rather than the fact that he sits so close to you and smells like fresh strawberries.

‘’Alright. Next, write down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine plus ninety-four’.” Again, you write it down as best as you can, in a reasonably readable handwriting. You hear him curse under his breath, exhaling.

“Five hundred and thirty-two plus six hundred and fifty-six..” 

You write a bit faster, messing up a few of the numbers in the process. You are glad you are starting with the addition sums, as they come the easiest to you.  

“Lastly, three hundred and fifty-five plus four hundred and sixty-six.’’ He looks at your sums. With one glance at his face, you can tell you’ve already fucked it up. “I said ‘one hundred and ninety-five’, but you’ve written down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine’. I said ‘six hundred-and-sixty-five’, but you wrote down ‘six hundred and fifty-six’.” 

Great. He must think you are doing it on purpose. Embarrassed, you quickly scratch out the numbers you wrote down before sighing, cursing yourself for thinking this was going to solve anything.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he wonders. “Do you even want my help?” The nerve of this man. 

“What do you think?” you snap, placing the cap back on your Hello Kitty gel pens. “You think you’re my first tutor? You think you’re the first who’s tried to help me? I’ve done all of this before, but none of it matters. Nothing will stick anyway.” 

Your voice becomes squeaky. You blink rapidly to avoid ruining your mascara. He must think you are so stupid. You are. So, so stupid.

Aemond looks over your work again, sighing and rubbing his face. “No,” he murmurs quietly. “You turn them around. Some of the numbers.” 

That has been an issue since you were introduced to numbers. That and the bigger they get, the bigger the chance you mess it up.

“No shit,” you huff, searching your handbag for your tissues. You find them buried under your perfume bottle and use them to wipe at your eyes. 

His feet move under the table, briefly touching yours.

“Don’t get mean. Just making an observation.’’ He scratches behind his ear. “What do you mean, ‘nothing  will stick’?” 

Great. He will piss himself with laughter when he hears this.

You’d rather not tell him, or anyone, really. It is embarrassing. You are a twenty-two-year-old girl who can’t divide the simplest numbers and, without a digital clock, you’d get nowhere on time. You wouldn’t even know the time. People can and have taken advantage of that just to bully you. “It’s complicated,” you say.

His usual gruff voice softens. “Alright. So, tell me.”

What is the harm? you wonder. Who is he even going to tell?

“I’ve got a non-verbal learning disorder,” you mumble. There. He knows.

“What?” he asks, a little too loud for your liking. Even if he had whispered, it would have been too loud. There is no one here, yet you are worried somehow someone heard.

You growl back, “Non-verbal learning disorder. NLD.” 

It is a little less common than dyslexia—a lot less common, actually. You have heard that dyscalculia and NLD is a very common combination. That might be the reason you are so horrible at math. Part of your brain just refuses to understand it, which frustrates you, which makes you upset, and all that means you’d very much rather not do math at all. 

Aemond becomes very quiet before admitting something you never thought you’d hear. “I’ve never heard of that.” 

Where could he have, though? He is very clearly a math expert, not a learning disorder expert. 

You look at your polished pink nails with gold glitter.

“Hm. Not surprised. You are perfect after all, aren’t you?” you ask.

He becomes grumpy and unbearable, as you become mad and perhaps jealous that he is so perfectly fine and normal, and boring. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” 

Aemond takes out his phone. You thought they were ‘forbidden’. Didn’t he say so earlier? You glare, insulted. You have a social life, after all, and the world suddenly seems far more beautiful than it had been before you began your suffering here. 

“So, are you telling me you don’t know how late it is now?” He shoves a Wikipedia page in your face. He looked it up.

You take out your phone. “Of course I do. It’s fifteen-thirty.” 

You don’t say the correct time. You say ‘fifteen-thirty’. Fifteen thirty. Not half over past something, am or pm bullshit. You say it how it is. It’s fifteen-thirty.

Aemond draws a clock in your notebook. You quite like the way he uses your Hello Kitty gel pen for it. “And in analog time, that would be?” He wonders, his voice trailing off when his one remaining good eye glances at you.

You shake your head as he draws two hands on the clock, and multiple numbers. “Oh, no one cares about those lame old clocks,” you smoothly lie, and it is part of the truth. 

No one uses those old lame clocks anymore. Everyone and their mother has a cellphone. Why bother reading a clock if you have a cellphone? And in your case—why bother reading a language your brain seems to not understand anyway?

Aemond sighs, reading you easily. He scratches the clock out. “You can’t read them, can you?” He asks after he has scratched them out. You can either deny it or lie about it but why waste energy and time?

This man is too observant. 

“I know that the big one up means ‘twelve’,” you say with a little smile, very proud that one thing did decided to stick.

You can see it on his face—it’s becoming more and more clear that you don’t need a tutor. You need a miracle.  

He blurts out a question. “How did you even leave high school?” he asks. You don’t think he meant to hurt you, but he still does.

“How did you lose your eye?” you ask, lashing out.

Aemond sits up a little straighter. “That’s quite a personal question—” 

You smile back, still furious and hiding your displeasure by ripping your nails.  “Exactly.” you groan.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. I’m impressed, if anything.’’

Fake sympathy. Yeah. 

This is a waste of time, you didn’t learn years ago, why would you learn it now? Why did you even came here to begin with? A little voice reminds you of just why you came over. “You don’t need to lie to me. I know I’m stupid,” you mutter when playing with your bracelet. 

Aemond grabs your wrist, letting go almost the second his skin touches yours. “You’re not stupid. I know you can be very clever and an absolute pain in the ass when you want to be.” He grins. “Just… not with numbers.” He closes your notebook.

“Really?”

You know you are clever on other fronts. It’s just difficult to believe you aren’t stupid when you see how advanced your peers and friends are and you still struggle over middle school math.

He nods. “Yeah. I remember for a while in History and Language that you were a threat to my position as best student.’’ 

You’d liked History for a while, it’s true. You were good at it—that is, until you got a social life and it became an afterthought. What might have happened if you had stayed on that path?

You don’t understand why he wants to be the best. “I mean, you are already first in math, aren’t you?” 

He should not push for perfection as much as he does.

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have to be the best in everything.” It sounds empty. You might not be the only one with problems.

You try telling him what you think. “That’s a little… unhealthy.”

He snaps at you, suddenly scowling. “Well, I don’t have a rich daddy to pay my way into school.” 

Ah. That is his issue with you. He thinks you’re a rich little girl that has a daddy that pays for everything.

You stare at your pink nails, briefly ripping at them before speaking. “I don’t either. Mine died when I was two. I have a stepfather, but he’s too busy fucking my mom and arranging vacations to Dorne for the two of them to bother with me.’’

Aemond’s chest sinks a little, regret written across his face. “I’m sorry.” 

He sounds sincere. And, just like that, you realize your math session has turned into a therapy session. 

You laugh despite your sadness. “Look at me, trauma-dumping all over you. Sorry.” 

You open your notebook at the same moment that Aemond grabs your fingers.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” He awkwardly lets go of you again.

That’s fast. “We haven’t solved a single sum,” you say. “I mean, we can solve one. I think this one is doable…” 

You look at your crossed-out sums. Oh, yeah. That happened. 

His silver-haired head nods up and down, but he does not answer at first, staring at your nails. “Perhaps not. But we have discovered why you have issues with this. Go take a break. That’s an order.”

He cheekily smirks at you, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Perhaps not butterflies—perhaps just straight-up lust. You want to pull this guy in by his sweater and give him a good tumble.

You lick your lips. ‘’Yeah? What will you do if I don’t, sir?’’

He leans in a little closer, his eye flickering to your ruler lying untouched on the table. “Let’s just say… you wouldn’t like to find out.’’

Aemond takes a bottle of water from his bag and a sandwich while you grab a hot chocolate from the machine in the library and a freshly baked muffin from your bag. 

You eat your muffin and then take out your Nintendo Switch bag, starting the device up for a brief moment of relaxation. You play Animal Crossing for a few minutes, forgetting the world around you as you’re sucked into your peaceful little island.

Aemond is very silent as well, staring mostly at you.

“I’ve got one too.” You are sucked out of your island and back into reality. 

‘’Huh?’’ He nods to the switch.

He means a Switch. You didn’t think he would be into games. You think he would be too busy studying, really.

“What game are you playing?” he asks, tilting his head, coming a little closer so he can see for himself, almost touching your skin in the process as he clumsily bumps into you. ‘’Sorry.’’ He murmurs.

“A very intense one,” you comment as a compilation happens on your screen. You want to restore your island from desertcore to cottagecore and right now, one of your villagers has decided to be a menace. 

On Aemond’s lips grows an almost dreamy smile as he stares at you playing on your Switch. “Oh—like Xenoblades? Zelda? Hades?” 

You’ve heard of all three, but haven’t played them. They are not games you think you would like. They sound difficult, full of combat, full of puzzles and full of realisation that you are stupid. So you stay far, far away from them.

“Animal Crossing!” You turn your Switch so he can see your former desert island as you turn it back into a cute aesthetic-worthy village. 

He tries to blink, but he only has one eye so it looks a little awkward. “That is your definition of ‘intense’?” 

It can be. It can be so intense you rage-quit. Some of these animals have no manners—you’ve certainly bullied a fair few off your island. 

“You try terraforming your island when a lazy villager sits in the way!” You point with your finger to the panda cub that sits in the way, right where you want to plant a bush. “That’s Chester, and right now he’s making my life hell—” 

The panda, or Chester, enjoys a sandwich while smiling at your avatar, unaware of the misery he is 

causing.

“That panda is?” Aemond asks, confused. “The panda is the issue? Can’t you tell him to move?” 

That would be so helpful. But, unfortunately, no—that is not an option. 

You nod, turning your Switch back to you. “He just won’t leave. I can hit him with a net, but he would hate me,” you mutter. “Pushing him is useless. He’s, like, glued to this spot.”

Aemond smiles to himself. “Perhaps he is saying we should return to studying.” Chester would say that, the menace. He has not given you his photo either, the bear knows too much.

“He says to me that I can have five more minutes,” you say, smiling and blinking your eyes innocently. 

He sighs deeply, exhaling before putting his arm under his head, watching you terraform around your island. “Cute.” He sits up straight, blushing and quickly pointing to your Switch, decorated with stickers from Stardew Valley. “I meant, uh, the stickers.” He quickly mutters, and you can’t hide your own smile.

The stickers are cute, but you can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t talking about something else. “Thanks, they’re from Stardew Valley.” 

“I heard that game—” Whatever Aemond would say next would forever be a mystery. He is rudely interrupted by your fan dumping all over him, telling him the plot, the main features, and your personal opinion of the game in the world-wide record of 4 minutes as you ramble. “You’re kinda supposed to help this town flourish by bringing crops you grow, artisan stuff, to this community center. You can also romance and have children and have a pet. There is like magic too, but I wish it was more fleshed out-’’ You shut up quickly. You put your switch down.

He nods, but you can tell you are losing his interest. 

“You can slay monsters, too,” you blurt out. “And you have different swords, weapons and stuff. Sorry. I kinda ramble.”

“I like it. It’s cute when you ramble.’’ Damn it. You feel your cheeks redden. Aemond watches the rain outside, before asking another question about Stardew Valley. ‘’Can I kill my spouse?” he asks as a follow up. 

You know the modding community is very active, but they are like about dogs and cat breeds, about teleportation hacks and making portraits better. Not about you know, full-blown murder. “No…”

He frowns as if that surprises him. “Is there warfare? Can I take other people’s farms? Is there a princess for me to save?” No, no, and no.

You understand you two play different games.

“No, not really. It does have multiplayer, though.”

Aemond’s scoffing little smirk returns but it does not meet his hurt and very glossy eye. “I’m kinda a loner.” He laughs but there is a hidden sadness there. A sadness you relate too all too well.

“I am, too,” you say. 

“You have dozens of friends.”  You can still have friends and be alone.

He refers to the girls that you hang out with. Are they friends? You don’t hang out aside from the weekend. You can’t call them, if something has happened to you, and they definitely don’t know you game or have NLD. 

“Yes,” you say, “but…none of them game, I guess? Like, in that way, I’m alone. And I don’t make friends easily. Not everyone likes the games I play. Some wouldn’t even call it gaming. So, what kind of games do you like to play?”

He suddenly becomes interested in his very well cared for nails, and you know you hit a weak spot.

“Crusader Kings II, Zelda, Hades, Xenoblades and shooters.” He tells you. ‘’Mostly single-players.’’

You don’t know Crusader kings, but judging by the name, you do not have a cute farm at day and a run a witchy cozy coven at night. “The bloody ones.”

He snaps his head to you, smirking a bit.

‘’Zelda is not bloody.’’ Before he looks at your hair and your lipstick. ‘’I think you actually like it, if you gave it a chance.’’ He says. ‘’I mean, there is dozens of npcs to talk to, a wonderful open world, and ingredients to forage and outfits to collect and to find. In a way, it is Stardew Valley but without the Valley.’’

He definitely heard about Stardew Valley before. ‘’You know a lot about Stardew.’’

He nods. ‘’My sister, Helaena, she plays it a lot. I wouldn’t know how to play it, however.’’ He confesses, slightly tilting his hands. ‘’It’s beyond me how you get anything done with a time limit and a stamina bar.’’

You smile, and you never thought you would in his company. ‘’Describe the story. Of that Zelda game.’’ 

He needs some time to think before telling you the main story. ‘’You see, with an adventure game that’s…that would defeat the purpose of playing. So: You are a hero, named Link. After 100 years, you awake in a shrine, and you hear a voice, and you need to save the kingdom and the princess.’’ It sounds very …male-written and male-aimed. You aren’t sure Zelda is for you.

You have another problem with it too.

‘’That sounds horrible. Imagine waking up from your nap, and suddenly you got to save the world.’’

At first he is confused but the moment he knows you are joking, he laughs, a very delightful sweet and welcoming sound. ‘’It starts very locked, but there’s so much you can do in the game, in my honest opinion it's one of their best entries in the series. There’s cooking, horses-’’ Horses? There are horses? And cooking? ‘’There is combat, but you learn quickly, at least I did. The monsters are actually clever, and in the beginning, its best to avoid them until you get decent weapons.’’ You aren’t sure. Combat? The monsters in the skull cave of Stardew Valley regularly kick your ass.  ‘’There are puzzles too-’’ That is where you draw the line. No puzzles.

‘’Hell no. I hate puzzles.’’ You did as a kid, and still as an adult you can’t figure out how some people enjoy putting together these images, made up of 1,000 pieces and when they finish it, they destroy it too. Like what is the point? And it does not help you can never figure out where to start.

‘’I know.’’ That catches you off guard. Aemond does not pressure you into it. He simply accepts it.  ‘’But they are fun. We can solve most problems in multiple ways. You can’t fuck this up, if you are scared of that. Even if you die, you can restart as many times as you like. And no one is going to call you stupid for it.’’ He promises you, when leaning in a little closer, touching your face gently.

‘’Not even you?’’ You ask, for confirmation, not sure why you care but you hate for him to laugh at you for doing something very rookie. 

He shakes his head.  ‘’No. It took me a lot of time to get the hang of it too, if you must know.’’ So he is not as perfect as he pretends to be. ‘’I already told you: I don’t think you are stupid.’’

You lean in a little closer to him, staring at his soft pink lips. You make your voice as dry as possible. ‘’What if I call ‘’Link’’ ‘’Zelda?’’ You ask him with a cheeky grin. Nothing annoys Zelda fans more than that.

He grins back, but has faith in you. ‘’I know you won’t.’’ That is true. You know that the Princess is called ‘’Zelda’’ but the person you play as is called ‘’Link.’’ To confuse the two would be like calling JojaMart Pierre’s general store.  

‘’But what if I do?’’ You ask, getting a little cheeky. ‘’Hm? Sir?’’ You ask, pushing his buttons a little more as you grin. 

He needs to make an effort to hide his smirk, quietly muttering when eyeing the stickers on your switch. ‘’Don’t push me, we are alone after all, and I’m very bored.’’ He murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine when his voice gets that rough edgy little dark edge.

‘’Are you …Interested?’’ You ask, surprised.

He lifts his head, a bit insulted. ‘’You think I would not avoid you like the plague if I wasn’t?’’

All this time you thought he hated you, but he had a crush on you. ‘’I thought you hated me! That I annoyed you!’ 

He blushes, quickly cleaning his glasses for some reason. ‘’No, I just don’t like it when I can’t control my feelings. Like I become very different around you.’’ You noticed. He puts walls around himself.

‘’You become a little angry bird or a Goomba.’’ You know for sure he knows what a Goomba is, and you know it as well. They are the adorable little creatures from Mario games that try to murder Mario and look grumpy.

He chuckles, mortified by your description.

‘’Please, no, gods, not a Goomba.’’ 

You do find the courage to tell him your final thoughts, before flipping your notebook again, picking up where you left with the sums. ‘’If it helps, you are kinda cute too, Aemond.’’ You tell him, and you mean it. ‘’Not that I’m into Goombas, but..Yeah. You’re cute.’’ You tell him.

He nods, absently before he becomes serious again. ‘’Did you ever try motivational tutor lessons?’’ Motivational what?

‘’What uhm do you mean?’’ You ask, a little lost.

He shrugs, smiling. ‘’Well, people are more likely to succeed if there is a reward for them in it.’’ You notice him biting down at his lips, avoiding your eyes.

‘’And uhm, what would my reward be?’’ You ask your body to betray you within mere seconds as you think of how he will reward you. You, on the couch on top of him when fucking him-

He grins, when slowly touching your legs, going to the space between your legs, to where your dress ends. ‘’Whatever you like,’’ he purrs softly in your ear. ‘’ A cup of coffee, a donut…’’

You nod, a little disappointed and curse your dirty mind. That man is a saint for trying with you. Aemond reaches out to grab something close to your textbook and your eyes follow his fingers. ‘’People are likely to succeed more if they are disciplined too.’’ He is just teasing you, you tell your very dirty minded mind.

You know he will make you stand in the corner or perhaps take your phone away. ‘’And what would my punishment be?’’ You ask, dryly when you copy the sums from the textbook.

Aemond sighs. ‘’I won’t do anything you don’t consent to, that is the first lesson.’’ You were taking a sip of your cold coffee and nearly spat it out, all over your textbook as your cheeks burned with interest.

‘’But if you are into a little motivation, I guess I can show you another use for this pretty ruler.’’ He mutters, tapping with the ruler against the palm of his hand. You notice he has excellent self-control. This will be fun.

Yet you are surprised, that the red sweater glass-wearing sniveling little best of the class into BDSM. ‘’You’re into Kink?’’ You ask, your voice is a bit strangled.

‘’That’s not an answer, little brat.’’ 

He totally is. Gods, just your luck, stuck with Aemond Targaryen who is secretly into brat taming. Whatever sums you wanted to make, will certainly get fucked up now.

‘’Do you expect me to really learn better?’’ You hope he understands that your brain is just not a regular brain. It won’t magically solve things now that you are motivated. 

Aemond shakes his head. ‘’I kinda don’t. But it’s alright, love. I won’t get upset with you. Not really, at least.’’ He tells you with a grin. ‘’But I won’t lay a finger on you until I get your consent.’’ Such a gentleman. 

‘’Fine, you’re free to touch me.’’

On his lips, grows a dangerous smirk as he grins, before sitting next to you. ‘’What is the square root of 48?’’ He puts his left hand on your knee and slowly makes his way to your thigh…

Fuck. ‘’Uhm, 4.’’ You blurt out. It is a gamble but you don’t care.

Aemond chuckles before tsking as a disapproving teacher, before grinning and telling you the correct answer. ‘’That would be 6.’’ You growl, a little angry you didn’t know it. But he softly murmurs in your ear, when his hands go over your body. ‘’Take off your coat.’’ He tells you coldy. 

You let out a little squeak. He grins, adding softly. ‘’Again, if you want to, of course.’’

‘’I want you to strip too.’’ You tell him after you have taken your coat off. 

He chuckles, thinking you can’t defeat him. That you don’t know his weakness. But he told you, earlier today without him realizing so.  ‘’You can ask me questions but I know a lot more about math-’’

You interrupt him, smiling.

‘’What year did the Titanic sink?’’

Aemond gawks at you, before thinking deeply. It is a random event that did kill people, but it had no major consequences. ‘’1910?’’ He guesses. You grin. 

‘’1912, take off your shoes.’’ You tell him.

‘’Fuck.’’ he murmurs, but obeys. ‘’If I go with the train at 9:20, and the train takes half an hour-'’ No way you will get that one, so you take your dress off, zipping your zipper down and exposing your black bra and matching knickers. Aemond’s breath catches slightly, exhaling when his pupils enlarge.‘’Good girl.’’ That is enough to worsen your arousal and to harden your nippels. Aemond watches as it happens, a pleased contemptuous smile on his lips. 

‘’Tell me, little Brat. Darwin’s father has four children, Red, orange, yellow and-’’ It is a pattern question. A clear question. Red orange yellow are colors represented in the rainbow. ‘’Green?’’ The moment you said it, you repeat the question silently before growling.

‘’No! "It's Darwin!” You grow out.

He chuckles. ‘’You can keep your pretty knickers and bra on. I want you to sit on my lap.’’ You sit down on his lap, making sure to rub him a tiny bit in the process, to make him wild. He groans in your ear when forcing your ass down. ‘’Such a naughty little brat. And so wet for me too.’’ He murmurs in your ear when his fingers smoothly slide in your knickers, before toying with your folds, touching before inspecting your wetness. You twist on his lap, trying to force the finger to move deeper, harder, and rougher. Aemond pulls you tightly to his chest to avoid you moving at all.

You enjoy his control more than you should. ‘’Fuck…’’ You quietly mutter. He muses happily to himself as you squirm and twist on his lap. 

‘’So tense, are we shy, little brat?’’ He is toying with you, torturing you.

‘’Aemond, please.’’ You beg, helplessly as he begins to fuck your body with his fingers, and you happily fuck his hands, clenching yourself whenever you are allowed. 

You need to find release soon, and he knows it very well judging by his smirk. ‘’I’m afraid I won't listen to that name. You will call me Sir or you will refrain from speaking at all.’’ He says, and your fucked up little brain enjoys it too much.

That is so hot. He has an authority kink. ‘’Fuck!’’

He grins, as he takes a stance behind you.

‘’I’m afraid I can’t allow such crass words.’’

Oh shit. You feel your heart race and your stomach flutter with lust and butterflies and your curious mind wanders. ‘’Aemond…’’ He grabs you briefly by the throat, but he does not make it hurtful. He raises a brow. 

You look at your shoes.

‘’I meant, Sir…’’ Your face is pressed down against the wood of the table, before Aemond growls.

‘’Nothing will save you now, little brat. You are all mine.’’

He grabs the ruler and your cheeks are spanked first with his fingers before he moves on to the iron ruler, hitting your cheeks with precision but hard enough for you to like it. You squirm on the desk, certain you leave a trail of wetness as Aemond uses the ruler on both your ass cheeks, finding a torturous rhythm. And yet you like it. You want it to happen again, you want to brat. ‘’Fuck,’’ you cry out as three of his fingers enter your pussy. His left hand is feeling you up, when his right continues to punish you for your sins. ‘’Sir, sir please!’ You moan.

‘’Are you sorry?’’ He asks, between fucking you on the desk with his hand and spanking you. You nod, furiously. He sighs, letting go of you and his fingers leave your spent wet cunt. ‘’Good. Don’t be naughty again or I will punish you again.’’ He warns you. You want to brat. And you want to brat so hard that he will punish you with his cock this time. 

You bring your own fingers to your entrance but before that you can shove them in, Aemond has grabbed your wrist, painfully twisting it. ‘’Seems like someone can’t behave herself.’’ You nod, furiously as if you regret it deeply. Aemond sighs. ‘’Pull my pants down for me.’’ He tells you, and you inwardly cheer. You get to work, unbuttoning his jeans for him and pulling them down first, before staring at his boxers which barely hide his erected cock. 

You pull his boxers down too, freeing his cock as the red swollen tip is pushed in your face, with clear precum on the edge. ‘’Get on the desk.’’ He tells you. ‘’Bent over it, the way I know you want to.’’ You know what he means very well, and you obey, bending over the desk so he could take you on it.

He sighs before grabbing one of your hands and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘’Make me go wild, and I’ll fuck your little needy pussy.’’ You obey, your back turned to him as you try to please him with your fingers rubbing his head and his balls. 

You are bended, and Aemond opens your legs roughly and sharply, before going inside of you with his cock, filling you all the way with his length as you silently whisper. Aemond starts to trust and you become lightheaded and carried away on your pleasure. He fits so well. ‘’Sir,’’ you weakly mutter as he fucks you on the table, your book and hello kitty gel pens still present. Aemond grunts as an animal before grabbing the ruler, smacking your cunt this time, causing you to cry out in pleasure. ‘’Sir!’’ You repeat your own cry, before slamming your hips against his own, begging him to finish you. ‘’Please!’’ 

‘’Such a needy cunny. I’m going to come inside of you, little Princess. You are going to tell all your little whore friends about this, that you got fucked by a man in the library, used as a glorified slave. You will tell them how red and throbbing your little pussy was, and you will not tell anyone it was me. Is that understood, or do you need me to fucking explain it another way?’’ You understand, but you would love another explanation because it sounds so dirty.

‘’Another way. I’m pretty stupid.’’

He glares as if he disagrees with that.

‘’Very well.’’

Aemond grabs you by your hips again, fucking you.

‘’’N-no, Aemond, I have a party tonight-’’ You tell him, begging him to be a bit gentle.

He groans. ‘’I don’t care. Fuck your parties.’’

He did not get invited.

‘’Nhn!’’ You cry out as his cock cruelly fucks you, not giving a damn about your warnings.

Aemond’s lips briefly kiss your sweaty forehead. 

‘’Delicious, such a good cunny.’’ He murmurs, rubbing your cunt until blood sticks to his fingers. You need a little push. Just one tiny push. ‘’And now, you will come for me, my slut. When I tell you, you will come all over my cock, soaking me.’’ You nod, bracing yourself.

Aemond fucks you harder and faster and it becomes difficult to hold your orgasm in. You need to release it, you need to find a release fast. ‘’Sir, please.’’ You beg, helpless. He grins, spanking your needy pussy.

‘’I know, but try to show some self-respect, my little brat.’’ 

You wordlessly wail. He sighs, before impaling you thoroughly and resting his hands on your hips. He whispers in your ear. ‘’Come.’’ You obey, freed from a prisoner and let go when you two fuck each other roughly, your muscles hurting from the rough fucking on the desk. And finally, you come all over his cock, just as he promised you would. He takes you two more times after that, bringing you close to two other orgasms, before denying those two. You are taken without warning and lose your control, coming all over him, earning you a spanking and a rough fucking before he comes inside of you as well, with a lot of curse words and grunts. 

‘’Fuck, Y/N.’’ He murmurs, in your ear. You put your underwear and bra back on. The timer ends, revealing that two whole hours have passed. Aemond dresses himself quickly too, looking at your messy hair and glassy eyes. 

You become aware of the feelings and the urge to run far away from them. ‘’I have to go.’’ You tell him.

Aemond stops you, gently and you know he has become himself again, dropping the dom-act.

‘’No. You seem to know some things about Kink, but after playing with my ladies, I give them aftercare. You deserve a bagel, or a donut, or fuck it, another Starbucks if you want. If we were at my place, I’d prepare a bath for you or give you a message.’’ He rambles on. ‘’Let me buy you something nice for your lunch, and at least walk you home.’’ He asks, no, begs. Your face melts at his sweet manners. 

You put your stuff in your back, as Aemond zips up your dress for you, careful to avoid your hairs. He has done this before. You wonder how many times and with who. ‘’She is judging us.’’ He suddenly whispers, nodding to your hello kitty gel pen. 

After two hours he has become just as mad as you have. ‘’She knows too much, I might drown her into my Starbucks later.’’ You tell him.

He does not approve of that idea.

‘’That would be sad and torture.’’

‘’Fine, I’ll just…put her in my pencil case.’’ You do as you promise him, putting the gel pens in your pencil case.

‘’That’s it, good girl.’’

He winks before following you to Starbucks.

‘’Hey, uhm Aemond?”’ You ask after you are waiting for your order. Aemond looks around a little amazed. He has never been here before, calling it a capitalistic hell. 

‘’Yeah?’’ his hands nervously play with his rings. He can be so adorably shy.

‘’What are you doing tonight?’’ You wonder, hoping you don’t regret this. As in, he does not say no.

‘’Not much, I might actually play Zelda. Why?’’ He wonders.

‘’Want to come to this party with me?’’ You blurt out with a smile.

a/nthank you for reading let me know what you think. there might be a part 2 but i havent decided yet.

The eh creatures above the a/n are goombas.

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Two - And the Rest is History

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here

Previous Chapter

The softball field at Lakeview is - to put it nicely, a piece of shit. The field is uneven, the grass almost never gets cut, and the bleachers have millions of spiders living in them. It’s not like the school doesn’t have the budget for it. They do but the pitch still looks like this because Principal Orangebottom could care less about girls sports even though they win more than the boys. 

The horrible conditions of the softball field don’t keep them from winning. In fact, it motivates the girls to win even more. Hours and hours of practicing on a field that can be only described as hell teaches them teamwork. 

Having a team that can overcome anything is what makes Abby’s job easy. No matter what, she can always count on her girls to get her through anything. Right now, Ellie was getting Abby through a particularly grueling session in the gym.

“So, about the new girl. She seems nice. A little quiet but nice,” Ellie said as she handed Abby her bottle of water. 

Abby was intrigued by what she saw in you. She remembers when she first saw you, your figure blurred by the stainless glass window in your bedroom. In the blink of an eye you were gone, but not from her memory. The U-Haul in your driveway gave her all the information she needed. You were new to town and she hoped that you would go to Lakeview. It’s always been a fantasy of hers to become friends with someone who didn’t know who she was, the daughter of Bellevue’s esteemed surgeon, Jerry Anderson, and the girlfriend of all-American football player, Owen Moore. She just wanted someone to treat her like a normal human being rather than just some accessory. 

And when she first spoke to you she knew her prayers were answered. 

“Yeah. I sit next to her in history. She's pretty smart,” Abby nodded along. 

“Do you think she’s gay?”

That stops Abby in her tracks. The not-so-simple question that always leaves her perplexed. What does it mean to “be gay?” one might ask. Abby asked herself that question multiple times. Not because she is gay but simply because she'd like to understand it more. 

Abby looks at Ellie, confused. “Number one, It’s none of my business. Number two, why does it matter? And number three, I’ve only known that girl for two weeks. It’s not like she’s gonna tell me something that huge in such little time.” 

Ellie shrugs and grabs her gym bag. “Just curious.”

“You know what they say about that cat.”

“What cat?”

Abby rolls her eyes and gets off the weight bench. “Never mind.”

In the library, you’re hunched over a math assignment. The thinly lined paper is filled with tiny holes in obscure spots from your constant erasing. No matter how hard you try to study, math just isn’t your strong suit. You’ve always been jealous of people who simply have a knack for it but their constant bragging about how “easy” math is gets on your nerves. 

Jesse laughs a little too loud which earns him a glare from the librarian and her assistant. His chortle breaks you out of your math day blues. He turns his phone around to show Dina a video and she just shakes her head. 

“Why are you on Youtube shorts? The only person I know that willingly watches YouTube shorts is my four-year-old cousin and he can barely read.”

“That’s because he’s four!” Jesse yells. The realization of his mistake is automatically recognized as he turns around and apologizes to the librarian. She simply glares at him and returns to her computer.

“You two fight like an old married couple.”

“We get that a lot. Sadly,” Jesse nods.

Dina scoff, “Sadly? As if you’d ever be lucky enough to get with this.”

Ellie swaggers into the library with Abby by her side. The evidence of their workout being their glistening skin and their athletic clothes clinging to their bodies. 

Ellie sits down in Dina’s lap and kisses her on the cheek. Dina holds her nose and tells Ellie that she needs to shower. Abby smiles at the exchange, happy that her best friends were lucky to find each other. What Dina and Ellie had could never be replicated. 

The thought of Owen and her becoming an IT couple scared her. There’s too much responsibility when it comes to being the couple everyone looks up to. You have to hold hands all the time, make out in the hallways, be with each other all the time. That honestly sounded like a chore that Abby wasn’t willing to do.

“I’m having a little get together at my house this Saturday if you guys would like to come. It’s a little beginning-of-the-year celebration. There’s gonna be booze, chicks, weed, video games, pizza, and salad if you’re into that vegan stuff,” Ellie declared. 

Dina looks at you, “When Ellie says ‘little get together’ that means that the entire school is gonna be there.” 

You gulp. You’ve been to parties before but those parties had max twenty people. This party sounded like it was going to be one of those parties you only see in movies. 

“I’ll be there,” you say. 

It would be good for you to get out of the house. Staying home and doing nothing was starting to kill your social skills so some time partying like a normal teenager would be good.

As Dina, Ellie, and Jesse debate on whether or not Jesse could jump from Ellie’s roof and into her pool, Abby leans in and whispers in your ear, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll make up an excuse for you if you’d like.” 

“No, thanks. I really should get out of the house more. The silence is killing me.”

“Tell me about it. My dad’s at work all the time so when I come home it’s just me and Alice, my dog.”

Abby doesn’t seem like the type of person whose parents would neglect her. She’s so kind and vibrant, the complete opposite of you. Maybe she had the type of parent that tried their hardest to stay present while still working hard shifts. Or maybe she had parents like yours. You hoped that she didn’t. 

Ellie gets off of Dina’s lap and grabs her duffle bag. She taps Abby's shoulder who reluctantly gets up from the table. “Let’s go, Abs. We gotta talk to the coach before we go to our next class.” The two of them wave goodbye before exiting the library. 

Your eyes linger on Abby for a little longer than they should. To an outsider it would look weird but you knew your intentions were innocent. The mysterious aura that she carries makes you want to just look inside her brain and learn everything that there is to know about her. 

In history, Mr. Miller makes his dramatic entrance and sits down at his desk in the front of the room. His glasses sit at the tip of his nose. He looks at the class over his circular framed glasses making him look like a cheap version of Harry Potter. 

He takes out another stack of papers from his messenger bag and starts handing them out. Students sigh or laugh with glee as they see their recent test scores. Mr. Miller quizzed all of you on what you’ve learned from previous history classes. It didn’t really matter grade wise but some people still took it seriously, like you. 

Mr. Miller reaches your desk and hands Abby her test first. Then he slides your test face down across your table. Your heart drops. In previous classes, teachers only did this if you did horrible on the test. You reach to flip the test over with shaky hands. Your fingers feel the paper under their tips and with a deep breath, you flip the test over. A perfect score and a note that says ‘see me after class’ are written on the front of it.

You nearly collapse with relief as Mr. Miller leaves your table with a smirk on his face. He must get a kick on almost giving his students a heart attack. 

You glance over at Abby and see her glaring at her paper before shoving it in her backpack. Her right hand keeps clenching and unclenching, almost as if she had an invisible stress ball in her palm. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, hand almost going to touch her shoulder but she jerks it away. Your hand makes its way back to your side, embarrassment taking over. 

“Fine,” she says. 

After class, Mr. Miller waits for all the students to exit the classroom minus you and Abby, that is. You look at her in your peripheral vision. She’s manspreading in her chair, her leg is bouncing up and down, and her hand is still clenching and unclenching. You wish you could help her but she seems like she just wants to be left alone right now. 

“Now, I asked the two of you to stay behind because both of you were on both sides of the spectrum when it came to the test.” 

Mr. Miller says your name in a way that can only be described as proud, “She got a perfect one-hundred while you, Abby, got a ten. It would be good if you were going for gold, but unfortunately, I want you to pass my class and stay on the softball team. So, I propose the idea that you two get together once a week and study.” 

He claps his hands together, “So, what do you think?”

You look at Abby for her response but she just stares at the space in front of her. 

“Fine,” she grunts. 

“I accept,” you say. 

You’re a little hurt that Abby isn’t more excited about this. Granted, she got a ten on a test but she has the opportunity to better her grades. If this were you, you would be jumping up and down and kissing the person who was so willing to help you…Okay, maybe that was a little much, but still. You’re going out of your way to do this for her so more than a grunt would be nice.

Mr. Miller smiles. “Great then. I look forward to seeing how both of you do on our next test.”

Abby rushes out of the classroom, leaving her pencil behind. You snatch the pencil and run it to her, your backpack bouncing up and down as you run down the hallway. 

“Abby, wait up.”

She slows down but doesn’t stop. Your frantic running turns into more of a fast walk as you catch up with her. 

“You left your pencil.” 

You hand her the simple number two pencil. She thanks you and continues to walk. 

“So, umm, when do you want to start?” you ask, hoping that your question doesn’t strike a nerve with her. “Monday,” Abby replies. 

You nod, already planning out how you’re going to tutor Abby and still make it on time for your - that's right. You have absolutely nothing else to do. This is going to be your life for however long Abby needs you.

You watch as Abby’s baby blue ford pickup truck makes its way out of the empty parking lot. You wave goodbye as the truck skirts off. 

Until Monday, Anderson, you think to yourself, your hand still waving to the empty abyss that is the Lakeview student parking lot.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you all so much for reading!

[cmentary]

Sevika x Reader - College AU

Sevika x reader, college au, 4th year reader, 5th year teachers 'helper Sevika', later on reader's tutor, no "y/n" or "reader", reader is referred to as X because she just is.

Today is one of those days which you don't experience many times in your life. Usually it's 5, unless you're unlucky enough to be forced to take a few more due to your failing grades. Luckily X didn't experience this displeasure and she was just about to start her 4th year of college. 

She was never forced to repeat a year, her grades were just fine… Except for math. 

Throughout the years she was blessed with an amazing tutor, a lovely lady in her 50s, who's been getting her to pass math each year since 7th grade of primary school. Unfortunately, people age, her tutor did and so did her mother. Because of her mothers condition, the math tutor was not able to support X this year. Reasonably it sent her into VERY lightly panic. 

With teachers like that and brains like this, on the first day after summer X was unable to find any crumbs of hope to brighten the day up and it would only get more complicated from this point. 

Housing system? Completely changed, this year everyone got assigned new dorm rooms. Unlike for the previous three years when X would share a room with some student a year below her, who'd rarely attend lectures, disappear for the whole night for parties and come back in the morning to sleep though half of the day, now she was completely alone.

Now what would greet her was an empty room, which she didn't decorate much, it didn't seem necessary (and it's not like she could afford much dust catchers). The only thing brought into the simple dorm was a pair of bags filled with clothes and necessary hygienic products. 

As the first few weeks flew by filled with simple classes like linguistics and those subjects directly related to her major, alongside those which she could deal with were also those she couldn't deal with much, especially math. 

It was almost half of the way towards the first session into the semester when the math teacher brought to class some sort of an assistant. Which from the looks surely did not seem like one. Teachers ‘little’ helper was a woman well above 6 feet of height, dark skinned, tanned enough to look as if she was golden, with short brown hair usually with it's top half tied up, not dressing too assistant-like, most of the time wearing sweatpants and t-shirts or compression shirts both which hugged her muscles tightly. She was a year five student, probably shooting towards becoming some sort of a substitute teacher.

She brought insecurities to boys from X's year group, being much more well built than the majority of them. During lectures whispers and giggles could be heard between other girls, who'd wonder whether she's even a woman with a silhouette like that. What was caught by X's attention was how a student made it, to be standing near the teachers desk, not sitting somewhere in the crowd AND still having time to hit the gym to maintain physique as impressive as hers. 

A few more math lectures ran by, accompanied by naps overtaking X's consciousness and occasional glances shared with the teachers assistant. Her expression stoic, yet surely irritated and disappointed with the lack of attention from the group of students. No matter how detailed and pretty were X's notes, everything the math teacher said would go in through her one ear and escape through the other. A pretty silly idea was born in her mind. How ridiculous could it possibly be to ask the older student for help in math? Not in class of course, since that surely would be considered forbidden, but it wouldn't hurt much to ask for help outside the lectures. At least couldn't help more than failing the semester. 

As one of the cruelly un-understandable lectures came to it's end, the teacher left, so did the crowd of uninterested students. As for X… she was catching up on sleep, pretty much looking dead as her head layed on her arms on her desk. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. “Come on sleeping beauty, the class is over”. As X rubbed her eyes to regain her vision's focus, her head rose to gaze towards the voice that woke her up. She looked around herself to see the lecture Hall empty as the lights were already halfway turned off. “Fuck sorry” X mumbled more to herself than to the other, but her disorientation caused the taller woman to let out an amused chuckle as she slowly headed toward the exit. X's quickly stuffed her bag with whatever she left laying around and caught up to the other. “Wait a second I've been meaning to ask-” taller woman stopped and turned around to face the tired student. “I know you're probably really busy with lectures, gym, finals and whatever you could possibly have going on, but… I suck at *pointing vaguely towards the whiteboard filled with calculations* whatever this is supposed to be and I was wondering if I could somehow persuade you to… tutor me a little because the exam is coming up, my tutor has an elderly sick mother and I can't figure out any of those stuff on my own. Since you're here I'm assuming your math skills are thriving and mine couldn't been worse and-” a subtle deep laugh cut X off her endless ramble as a piece of paper written somewhere halfway through her monologue was written and put into her hand. “Here, my phone and dorm room number. Save your silver tongue for the teachers. If you want to pay me, bring a drink with you, for both of us and then we'll get to talking.” She waved you off and walked away. 

[hetaliaimaginesin2022]

I love America, can we get college au jock x nerd? thank you

I fear I'm an America simp right now, I love him

Jock America With a Nerd Partner | College Au

Al was quite popular in the college

He was charming with gorgeous eyes, kind to everyone, upbeat and incredibly good on the sports fields, participating in baseball and football (not to mention, single)

You however, excelled in your own right through academics, and were popular, albeit in a smaller group than Al, through the school's debate team, tutoring program, and e-sports

Suffice to say, you two didn't fall in the same social circles, and considering you were on a college campus, you two didn't get the chance to talk to one another naturally

There was an encounter between you two in the form of an offer of tutoring however

You were called during working hours, where you were payed by the school to provide tutoring services to students who were struggling academically

Apparently Alfred, while excelling on the field, was far less gifted in class and needed to pick his grades up or he'd be benched

The professor requested that you tutor him three to five days out of the week, logging each, assisting him in english, history, and health (though, interestingly, he seemed perfectly capable in math and some sciences)

You hadn't tutored someone other than the occasional lesson and really only agreed because it looks good on a resume and was easy money, but you couldn't a good excuse to say no, and agreed

You found him to be extremely kind and energetic, and even on assignments he struggled, he kept going with a happy face, even if, during breaks, he's complain about the "difficultness" of some of the work

Because you had to spend so much time with each other, you two became closer, opting to talking about yourself here and there, mainly prompted by him

After finding out you did E-sports, he attended one of your teams unofficial practices, and watched you sweep, taking a victorious win, and was quite impressed with your skills

He learned about what you were attending college for and why and in return, you learned that he was attending for aerospace engineering and worked hard at the subjects that benefited his degree, not caring about the ones that didn't, which made his grades make sense

One day, you were two were holding a tutor session early in the morning after his workout, and he decided to go for coffee and doughnuts before you started bringing the books out

Hoping in his lightly rusted, cherry red pick-up truck, he drove you two to the nearest place

He was in a t-shirt that clung to his body and a pair of sweatpants, his hair was still damp from the quick shower he took and he was energetically talking about how his morning went, his eyes look gorgeous in the early sun and his smile was beaming

You decided he looked incredibly handsome and that maybe your couple months of friendship had the potential to form into something deeper

As both classes and game season were drawing to a close, his grades improving significantly thanks to your help, and midterms went off without a hitch

After the last football game of the season, he sprinted up to you immediately after the game and picked you up, smiling wildly and laughing

It didn't matter the score, or how he preformed, you were there, watching him and rooting along, he was having a blast

In that moment he really wanted to kiss you, but realized you two weren't even dating

Ultimately, he impulsively askes you out

When you say yes, he's overjoyed, and goes out to a fast food place to celebrate