「 ✦ homework ✦ 」
quackity x reader
warnings : none !
tags ~ kissing, fluff, & kind of romantic (??)
It was the kind of homework assignment you dreaded—partnered with someone you didn’t know well, forced to work together on something that, frankly, you couldn’t care less about. When you saw Quackity’s name appear on the list of partners, you groaned. You knew him from mutual friends, and while he was funny and all, he could be… a bit much. He was loud, often sarcastic, and definitely a little too confident for your liking.
He was chaotic, loud, and often distracted by anything shiny or exciting. You, on the other hand, liked things organized and straightforward. But, hey, maybe this would be a good way to push each other’s boundaries, right?
You agreed to meet at his house to work on the assignment, and when you arrived, Quackity greeted you with that signature mischievous grin.
“Well, well, look who actually showed up,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I didn’t think you were brave enough to work with me.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” you replied flatly, walking past him into the house. “Let’s just get this over with.”
You both settled into his room, however, it didn’t take long for the conversation to shift from academic to argumentative.
The two of you sat down at his desk, books and papers scattered around. You started to discuss the project, but it didn’t take long before Quackity started pulling his usual antics.
“You know, I was thinking we could just—” He interrupted you before you could finish.
“No. That’s a terrible idea,” you said, not even bothering to hide your annoyance. “We need a solid plan, not whatever that is.”
“I really think we should start with the presentation,” Quackity suggested, continuing his cut off sentence from earlier, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, an irritating smirk on his face.
“I disagree,” you shot back, brows furrowed with annoyance. “We need solid research before we even think about the presentation part. It’s pointless otherwise!”
“Oh, come on! You’re just being difficult!” He chuckled, defiantly rolling his eyes.
“Me? Difficult? Look who’s talking!” Your cheeks flushed with frustration. The playful banter soon transformed into a heated disagreement, the tension between you both reaching almost palpable levels.
“I’m telling you, we should focus on the presentation first,” Quackity insisted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, a playful smirk lighting up his face.
“And I’m saying we need to nail down the research part before anything else! Without the content, the presentation will fall flat,” you retorted, frustration creeping into your voice.
A glimmer of mischief sparked in his eyes. “Wow, someone’s a little bossy today. It’s not like it’s a dictatorship, you know.”
“Excuse me? Just because you think this is a joke doesn’t mean I can’t take it seriously!” You shot back, your cheeks warming with irritation.
His laughter filled the room, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something that hinted at the tension brewing beneath the surface. You noticed how his eyes sparkled with an intense playfulness, making you acutely aware of the distance between you.
Quackity’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, I’m taking it seriously. You’re the one ruining everything. Lighten up.”
You couldn’t believe how dismissive he was being. “Maybe you should try thinking for once. Just because you talk big game doesn’t mean you actually know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if you want to keep playing it safe and being boring, be my guest.” he says as he gets closer to you.
You could feel the heat rising in your chest, irritation mixing with something else—something you weren’t willing to admit. “I’m not boring. I just want to get this done without you derailing it.”
“Well, you’re not really my type of person anyway,” he said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair as if he’d won some kind of victory. “You’re so uptight.”
That was it. You couldn’t take another second of his dismissive attitude. You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping the floor loudly. “You’re unbelievable,” you spat, gathering your things into your bag. “I’m done. I’m not wasting any more time on this with you. You clearly don’t care, so I’m leaving.”
You didn’t even wait for a response. You turned, heading straight for the door, your frustration boiling over. You weren’t going to sit here and let him ruin your day, your project, everything. You just wanted to get away from him, even if it was for a little while.
But as you reached for the door, Quackity’s voice stopped you.
“Wait, hold on—” His footsteps were quick behind you, and before you knew it, he had grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly, trying to stop you.
“No,” you snapped, your voice sharp with anger. “Let go. You’ve made it clear you don’t give a damn about this project, or anything I’m saying. So don’t try to act like you care now.”
His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you could see the shift in his expression. The usual cocky grin was gone, replaced with something… different. Guilt? Regret? But you weren’t in the mood to care about his feelings. Not when he’d been so dismissive of yours.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to upset you, really. I just… I don’t know, I thought it’d be more fun, y’know?”
You shook your wrist out of his grip, not looking at him. “Well, it’s not fun for me when you keep treating everything like a joke.”
You turned back towards the door, but before you could even open it, Quackity was already in front of you, blocking your path.
“What are you—” You started, but your words were cut off when he reached for your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the door.
You stared at him, heart racing, the sudden closeness leaving you breathless. Quackity’s usual cockiness was gone, replaced by a seriousness that you didn’t expect. His face was inches from yours, his breath just as uneven as yours. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.
“I’m sorry,” Quackity said again, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to push you like that. I didn’t think you’d get so mad.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could even process what was happening, he was closer, too close, with that cocky smirk still plastered on his face.
You glared at him, but there was a flicker of something in your chest that you couldn’t quite ignore. “Maybe you should think before you speak,” you muttered, your anger still lingering, but mixing with an unexpected tension.
Quackity’s gaze softened, and he exhaled, clearly trying to collect himself. “I’m not good at this… I’m not good at knowing when to stop. But I don’t want you to leave.” He swallowed, his grip on your shoulders loosening, as if he was afraid of pushing you too far.
You felt the heat between you both intensify, the distance closing as he stayed right there, still watching you, unsure. Something shifted in that moment—the sharp anger you felt turned into something else, something that left you confused and unsure.
You didn’t move. Neither did he.
Quackity, after a long silence, leaned in slowly, testing the waters. His lips brushed against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. At first, you froze, your anger still lingering, but then it dissolved, just a little. His kiss deepened, his hand reaching up to cup your face, and you found yourself responding, all that tension from before turning into something almost… soft.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing heavily, still pressed against the wall, his forehead resting against yours.
“See?” he said smugly, his usual cockiness back in full force. “Told you I’d make things interesting.”
You wiped your mouth, still processing what just happened. “You’re still a pain,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words now. You could feel your heart racing, but you couldn’t quite figure out what to do with this new tension between you two.
Quackity raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your shift in energy. “Oh, I know I’m funny. But you? You’re just… cute when you’re angry.” “Now you’re thinking about me,” he teased, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly pleased look on his face. “You’ll get used to it.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but despite everything—despite the frustration and the tension—you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t look at him the same way again.
“Well,” you said, standing up and gathering your things, “We still need to finish this project. But you’re lucky I’m not leaving you for being an insufferable jerk.”
“Oh, you know you love it,” Quackity shot back with a wink. “Now, let’s get this over with, so we can celebrate later.”
