Mafia Imagines

61 -My Shy Nerd (request)

Plan: High School AU. Y/BF/N Being dumb, Y/N being smart.

For: fewercascade

Imagine...

You were shy.

That was a fact.

Not "uwu" cutesy type of shy. No, that wasn't you.

You were the awkward, hated speeches and being picked on in class, and stuttered, who also had really good one liners that everyone loved, shy.

And right now, you were scribbling down the numbers and letters into your notebook, the black ink being sprawled onto the page before you, staining the white paper. Biting your lip, you write out equations before typing them into the calculator. That was until there was a long finger poking your arm, gently, but the repetitive motion did get rather annoying after a few moments, as you tried to ignore it.

"Can I help you?" You turn to your Mr. Popular boyfriend, who sat next to you, as he gave you a boyish grin he reserved for you.

"I'm confused."

"You're always confused," You say with a sigh, turning back to your workbook, and continuing to work on your numbers.

"Yeah, but I'm more confused than normal." He pokes you again.

"I'm trying to focus," you say as gently as you can to your boyfriend, as you shift in your seat, trying to get away from his insistent poking.

"But I need help!" He whines, much like an over sized child, trying to shift towards you.

"I can-" The "uwu" shy girl attempts to offer, but he holds up his hand to silence her.

He wasn't an oversized child for just anyone, oh, god no. Only you got that privilege. To everyone else he was the asshole, future mafia leader who wasn't afraid to throw hands.

"Please, darling?" His words are soft, as you sigh, your shield against the boy could only take so many puppy eyes per day.

"Fine, come here."

Fist pumping the air, he scoots his chair closer to yours, as you explain the different formulas for linear relationships to him.

"Maths is dumb," he says, rubbing his hand through his hair, tugging on his beautiful curls that you had spent many nights braiding, just for the sake of it.

"No- maths is quite repetitive!" You chirp happily- you were in your comfort zone here.

"Maybe your just too smart for me," He grumbles, his hand finding your thigh, as he squeezes it.

All formulas that you previously had known, flew from your brain, as it emptied only to be filled with the fact your boyfriend was holding your thigh.

"...are you listening?" He looked at you, squeezing your thigh unaware of the effect the power he held over you.

"Y-yes." You flushed. God, why did you have to blush, now?

"Is it because my hand is on your thigh?" Yes. Yes it was.

"No."

"Are you sure?" He questions, almost as if he knew the power he had over you.

"Y-yes?"

"Yes you're sure or yes, it's because my hand is on your thigh?"

"I- uhh-" You struggle to form a whole sentence.

"Aww, is my little nerd shy?"

"Shut up!" You scoff, trying to push his hand off, to no avail.

"It is-"

"Mr and soon to be Mrs H/L\N!" Your teacher scolds the pair of you, as you try to pull away.

"I'm-"

"Please save the-" A single look from your boyfriend has the educator scrambling to get away.

"Y/BF/N!"

"I didn't do anything." He squeezed your thigh, and any argument you had died on your tongue.

Stupid, handsome, mafia men.

________________
Written: 22/July/2022
Published: 22/July/2022

Post-exam anxiety is a thing and it sucks.

That's it. That's the author's note.

(Also, my friend who requested this, I hope this is up to your standards please DM me if anything is wrong and I'll rewrite it. I'm trying to get to everyone's comments, but it'll take a little while, sorry </3)

Love,

Outcastkido