#a student walked into my class and started beating up another student so that really kicked my week off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnalcrows · 3 months ago

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TEACHER'S PET - SANGWOO

pairing: professor! sangwoo x student! bottom male reader

synopsis: A struggling college athlete strikes a risky deal with his professor, unaware of the secrets lurking beneath the surface.

content warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is 21 and sang-woo is in his 40's), teacher x student, cheating, blood, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, reader is a himbo and is slightly muscular.

word count: 2.5k

The classroom was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of Professor Cho Sangwoo’s fingers against his desk. You were only half-paying attention, your gaze drifting to the window as he continued his lecture on financial markets—whatever that meant. Numbers weren’t exactly your thing, and honestly, you were just waiting for class to be over so you could hit the gym.

“Since you all love talking so much, let’s see if you actually understand today’s lesson,” Sangwoo announced, his voice smooth yet carrying an edge of boredom. He scanned the room, eyes narrowing slightly before landing on you. “You.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?”

A few chuckles echoed in the lecture hall, but Sangwoo ignored them. He leaned casually against his desk, adjusting his tie. “I asked what the three main types of financial markets are.”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for anything resembling an answer. “Uh… stocks?”

Sangwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s one.”

“Um… crypto?”

Someone in the back actually snorted. You gave them a glare before looking back at Sangwoo, who only smiled, but not in a nice way. “Stay after class,” he said simply before moving on to another student.

You slumped in your seat. Great.

When the lecture finally ended, your classmates trickled out in pairs and groups, leaving you alone with your professor. You adjusted the strap of your sports bag and walked up to his desk, scratching the back of your head.

“Sir?” you said hesitantly. “Uh, about earlier—”

“You’re failing my class.”

That was the first thing he said, cutting straight to the point. His voice was calm, but there was something in his gaze that made you shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, I figured,” you admitted with a nervous chuckle. “Numbers aren’t really my thing.”

Sangwoo just stared at you, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You do realize that if you fail my class, your scholarship could be revoked, correct?”

You blinked. That… wasn’t good. You needed that scholarship. It was the only reason you were here in the first place.

“But—”

“I could help you,” Sangwoo interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. “Private tutoring, after hours. One-on-one.”

“Oh, sweet! That’d be great,” you said, completely missing the shift in the air. “Man, I knew you weren’t as scary as people say.”

Sangwoo’s eyes gleamed. “Right,” he said. “Not scary at all.”

You waited in the empty lecture hall, tapping your fingers against your desk. Most of the students had already gone home, the hallways eerily quiet as the late afternoon sun cast golden streaks through the high windows. You shifted in your seat, rolling your shoulders. This felt… weird. One-on-one tutoring? You barely studied in regular classes—what were the odds this would actually help?

The door creaked open.

You turned, watching as Sangwoo stepped inside. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit jacket, just his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. He carried his leather briefcase in one hand, and in the other, a slim stack of papers.

“You actually showed up,” he mused, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“You told me to.” You leaned back, grinning lazily. “Not really one to disobey orders, sir.”

He set his briefcase down, eyeing you for a beat too long before moving to the desk at the front of the class. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered. Then, louder: “Let’s start.”

For the next twenty minutes, he actually taught. Well, sort of. He wrote on the board, explained concepts you didn’t understand, and made you do problems from his worksheet. Your brain, slow as it sometimes was, genuinely tried to keep up. You weren’t failing because you didn’t care—you just weren’t good at this stuff.

At some point, Sangwoo moved behind you, leaning over to check your work. The weight of his presence sent a strange shiver down your spine. His voice was low, smooth, almost teasing as he pointed out your mistakes.

“Not quite,” he murmured. “Try again.”

You exhaled sharply. “God, I suck at this.”

“You suck at a lot of things,” he said, tone unreadable. “But you’re good at listening.”

Your brow furrowed at his choice of words. Before you could question it, he reached over, guiding your hand as you wrote out an equation. His fingers were steady, firm over yours. Too close.

You swallowed. The air in the room changed, thickened with something unsaid. You turned your head slightly, only to find that Sangwoo was already looking at you. His dark eyes lingered, searching, waiting.

The moment stretched.

Then, he moved.

His hand slid from yours, trailing up your wrist, your forearm. You should’ve said something, maybe pulled away, but the way he looked at you—the quiet intensity in his eyes—made your brain short-circuit.

His fingers brushed your jaw. Your breath hitched.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, practiced, like he had been waiting for this—like he already knew you wouldn’t resist.

Your back hit the desk, Sangwoo pressing forward, one hand bracing against the wood while the other curled around the nape of your neck. His lips moved against yours with a kind of certainty that made your stomach tighten, that made your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt.

A quiet, broken sound left your throat as his teeth scraped against your bottom lip, as his hands roamed lower, as his body slotted perfectly against yours.

His hands went to the curve of your ass– gripping on the supple flesh as he pulled you closer into him. They trailed to the front, tugging your sweatpants off with a firm tug– making you gasp in surprise.

You looked at him with wide eyes, which only seemed to turn him on even more. He pressed his lips back onto yours before sliding one hand down your boxers, pulling your hard cock out of its confinements– the cool air making you shudder.

He turned you around so that your stomach was on the desk, and lifted your ass up– groaning at the sight of your hole puckering around nothing. He pulled out a packet of lube from his front pocket, did he come prepared for this?, before he ripped it open and spilled its contents onto your hole.

Before you could say anything, he slid the head of his cock in– eyes clenching shut at how you hole pulled him in. You gripped at the desk– having never been stretched out like this before.

“God– so tight f’me aren’t you love, “ he groans in your ear before sliding all the way in– making your back arch. “Only for you sir–” you manage to say before he pulls out and slams back in, making you scream.

He fucked into you at a relentless pace, the uncomfortable positon of your pelvis getting bruised by the edge of the table did nothing to you know. He was making you see stars.

He held you by the waist as you clenched around him– almost making it unable for him to move. You were practically milking the older man dry.

“Getting fucked by your professor for a few extra marks– what a filthy little slut you are, hm?”he mocked, getting riled up at the way you merely moaned, not being able to make sense of what he was saying. Your head was filled with the thought of his cock pistoning in you.

It wasn’t like your head had much in it anyway.

Soon, he felt himself on the verge of a release, and came in you without warning– painting your insides a pearly white.

You came untouched, practically screaming as your cock spurted out ropes of cum onto the desk. He stayed nestled in you for a while, before slowly pulling out, his cum leaking out of your hole.

He felt himself getting hard again.

It was going to be a long session.

The next time you tried to do the homework he assigned, you realized you had learned absolutely nothing in that tutoring session.

Not about commerce, at least.

Giving up on that, you were sitting outside on the campus lawn with a few of your teammates, lazily picking at your food while the others chatted around you. It was the usual mix of locker-room banter and weekend plans, but you weren’t really paying attention. Your focus had shifted to the faculty building in the distance, where a familiar figure stood near the entrance.

Sangwoo.

Your professor looked different outside of the classroom. Less stiff, more relaxed. And, most importantly, not alone. A woman stood next to him, pretty and well-dressed, holding a little girl in her arms. Sangwoo’s hand rested on the small of her back as they talked, his head tilted slightly as he smiled at something she said. The woman laughed, leaning into him with a kind of familiarity that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Your appetite vanished instantly. Your fingers tightened around your fork, and you barely noticed your friend nudging you.

"Yo, you good?"

"Yeah," you mumbled, already standing. "Gotta go. Be right back."

You didn’t wait for a response. Your feet moved on instinct, carrying you toward the nearest building. The second you were inside, you made a beeline for the restroom, locking yourself in an empty stall before bracing your hands against the walls, trying to steady your breathing.

Sangwoo had a wife. And a kid. A whole family.

The realization sat heavy in your gut, a sharp, sickening weight pressing against your ribs. How had you not known? Shouldn’t someone have mentioned it? Shouldn’t he have mentioned it? And why the hell did it feel like you’d been punched in the stomach?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow the rising bile in your throat. The image of him—smiling, touching her, looking like a man who had never done a single wrong thing in his life—burned behind your eyelids.

You had been in his office just last night. Had sat at his desk, let him touch you, let him pull you in like you were something he wanted. And the whole time—

The whole time, he had this? A wife? A daughter?

You turned abruptly, punching the stall door hard enough that the impact sent a dull ache up your wrist. Then, without looking at yourself in the mirror, you forced yourself back outside.

You weren’t going to think about this now. You just needed to get through the rest of the day.

Your legs still felt unsteady as you walked back across the campus lawn, but then—

You slowed down. Two professors were chatting near one of the shaded benches. You wouldn’t have normally paid them any mind, but your name caught your attention.

“—been doing surprisingly well in my class,” one of them said. “I thought he’d barely scrape by, but it looks like he’s putting in real effort.”

“Not surprising,” the other replied. “Athletic scholarships come with pressure. He needs to keep his grades up if he wants to stay on the team.”

“True, but honestly, he’d have to bomb every class for that to even be a concern. You know how it is—sports scholarships are basically untouchable. No single professor can take those away, even if they wanted to.”

A beat of silence passed. Then the first one chuckled. “Good thing, too. Can you imagine the scandal?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

Wait.

Your scholarship was secure? No single professor could take it away?

Then… What the hell had Sangwoo been threatening you with?

Your stomach twisted again, but this time, it wasn’t nausea. It was anger. Cold, creeping, slow-burning rage.

He had lied to you. Manipulated you. Used you.

And you had fallen for it, like an absolute idiot.

You sat through class that day feeling like you were going to be sick. Every word out of Sangwoo’s mouth blurred together into meaningless noise, his voice grating against your ears. When he announced the usual after-hours “coaching session,” you barely registered it. The other students filed out, and you stayed seated, arms crossed tightly over your chest, muscles coiled with anger you hadn’t fully processed yet.

Sangwoo closed the door, the sound echoing through the empty room. He turned, gaze sharp as ever, and for the first time, you hated the way he looked at you—like he had already figured out exactly what you were about to say.

“Something wrong?”

You stood up so fast your chair scraped against the floor. “You’re married.”

Sangwoo’s expression didn’t even flicker. “And?”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And? And?! You’ve been—You lied to me. About everything.”

“Careful,” Sangwoo murmured, stepping closer. “You’re getting all worked up.”

“Yeah, because I just found out the guy I’ve been—” You cut yourself off, pressing your fingers to your temple as if that would stop the storm in your head. “Not only are you a cheating bastard, but you lied about my scholarship.”

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another.

You scoffed, the sound bitter, disbelieving. “Yeah. I figured it out. You don’t have the power to take my scholarship away, do you?”

Sangwoo sighed, tilting his head like you were a particularly slow student who had finally caught up. “It got you to comply, didn’t it?”

Something inside you cracked open.

Your fists clenched at your sides. “You used me.”

He took another step forward, his presence suffocating, the air thick between you. “And yet, you’re still here.”

He was right there, close enough that you could see the way his lips curved, the glint in his eye that told you he still thought he had the upper hand. And maybe he did—because the moment he grabbed your face and kissed you, you let him.

It was hard, possessive, like he was staking his claim all over again. Your body reacted before your brain did, mouth opening under his, heat flaring up your spine. His hands dragged over your jaw, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse stutter.

But then—

No. No, not this time.

Your eyes snapped open. The haze shattered.

Without thinking, your hand darted toward the desk beside you, fingers curling around the sharp metal of a compass. You gripped it so tightly your knuckles ached.

Sangwoo didn’t even notice until it was too late.

The compass plunged into the side of his neck, and for the first time since you’d met him, he was the one caught off guard.

He staggered back, hand flying to his throat. Blood—so much blood—spilled between his fingers, staining his crisp white dress shirt. His mouth opened, a garbled, wet sound escaping as he stared at you in pure disbelief.

You exhaled, heart pounding as you looked down at him. “Guess I am failing this class.”

The room smelled like iron. Sangwoo collapsed to the floor, the blood pooling around him in a slow, creeping tide.

You stood there, breath shaky but eyes steady.

And then, finally, you turned and walked away.

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viperify · 3 months ago

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oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ To The Moon n’ Back.

Short Summary: This year you’ll spend another ordinary Valentine’s Day, all by yourself. Or that you think—until you receive a mysterious letter.

Warnings: 18+ only! soft impact play, brief fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, also this is kinda ooc!Tom bc how do I make this man engage in Valentine’s Day activities.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 💋🩷

wordcount: 2,4k

part 2

Tom Riddle does not do love.

So why is it that every time you walk past him, his heart beats just a little bit faster?

He’s done everything to distract himself—drowning himself in books, studying more than what is usual, even for someone called Tom Riddle.

Yet, you never fail to leave his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get the thought of you—specifically your lips on his—out of his mind.

By sweet Merlin, that’s the worst part of it all.

──

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Safe to say—you aren’t interested in a relationship.

So it shouldn’t bother you that all of your friends are out with their partner. But it does, your chest tightening at the thought of spending another night alone on a day that’s meant to be celebrated with your loved ones. It’s always been like this though, they’ve had their fun, and you—well, you stayed behind.

You decide to head to bed early. Right after dinner, which was awfully boring with none of your friends around, you make your way back to your dorm. Or try to, at least. Because as soon as you turn the corner, someone bumps into you.

Not just anyone—Tom Riddle. Head boy, former prefect, top student in every class, teacher’s favourite, award winner… you could go on like this for hours. There is probably nothing in this world that he hasn’t achieved—except for finding a Valentine’s date, it seems.

“I am sorry,” you mumble as you crouch down to pick up a piece of paper he has dropped. And it’s really not that you wanted to know what was written on it—it must have been the familiar number that caught your eye—the number of your dorm to be exact.

Though slightly taken aback, you hand him the paper—or better—he rips it from your hands. For a moment when his lips part slightly, you think he might want to say something in return—maybe apologize for bumping into you—but nothing ever comes.

So you leave, shooting him a weak smile.

It’s not like you expected an apology from him. He has his close circle of friends, all of whom are from renowned pureblood families. Even if you wanted him to like you, look at you the same way you’ve looked at him for years, it wouldn’t change a thing. Tom Riddle was unreachable. Any girl that has ever been interested in ended up getting rejected, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Yet, the rich scent of his perfume lingers, the way his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment imprinted in your mind. His hands brushing over yours briefly, feeling his warmth, the warmth you’ve been craving to feel on your skin—

You shake your head. You’re interpreting too much into it.

──

Tom curses himself for almost blowing his cover.

After hours of contemplation, hours of sitting in front of a blank piece of parchment, he finally writes something down.

My dear—

He scoffs. Pathetic.

Scrunching up the paper, he discards it on the wooden floor of his dorm.

I hope this letter finds—

Definitely not.

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at—

Please? Who is he to beg? You should be the one begging for— fuck.

Twenty crumpled-up pieces of parchment later, Tom’s had enough.

He opts for something shorter.

Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.

Perfect.

──

You are tucked under your duvet, putting the romance novel you had started on the nightstand. It was only 8pm, but with nothing else to do, sleep didn’t seem like the worst option. Soon enough, your eyelids flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep.

Though, it isn’t too long before a sharp knock on the glass of your window wakes you. It’s your owl, delivering a letter. Quite an unusual time for you to receive something, yet curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your window to get it.

No sender.

Reluctantly, you tear the envelope open, and your eyes skim over the words written on the parchment.

“Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.” You whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. You don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone's you know, and as soon as you wipe over the words, the ink smears, vanishing, leaving you with an empty parchment.

At first, you are quite unsure whether to go. There’s no name on the letter, and especially on a day like today, there will be stricter enforcements of the curfew rules. Though, knowing yourself, you would have probably gone anyway. Even on a day like this, the moon and the stars are the only company you crave.

So you change, folding your PJs neatly on your bed, putting on the first skirt you find—though as soon as you step out of your dorm, you regret your decision. Tonight is cooler than usual, a soft breeze brushing past your skin, having you shiver. It’s too late to turn around, though. So you make your way, walking the route you normally take when you sneak out past curfew.

As you ascend the stairs to the tower, a figure leaning against the railing catches your attention. Only when you take a few steps closer do you recognize who it is. The brunette curls are unmistakably Tom’s, and for a moment your breath catches in your throat, halting your movements. Knowing that he is most likely on his patrol, you turn around to return to your dorm, but as you do just that, his voice stops you.

“You came.” He remarks quietly, without turning around.

It is him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Riddle, if this is some kind of—“

“Come closer.”

You walk forwards then, though reluctantly, and lean against the railing next to the brunette. It’s silent between the both of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“They fascinate you, don’t they?” He asks subtly, staring into the distance of the night sky. You follow his gaze, taking in the stars and moon on the otherwise pitch-black horizon. “You watch them each night when you can’t sleep.”

You turn your head then, looking at him briefly. You want to ask how he knows, yet you decide to keep it to yourself. Instead, you answer honestly.

“It’s a rare constant in my life. They help me calm down, especially after a long day.”

He gives you a soft nod in return, and silence returns between the both of you, left with owls howling in the distance. There’s still snow on the ground, and it must be below freezing temperature, because when another cool breeze brushes past you, you shiver, scrunching up into yourself.

“Why am I here, Riddle?”

Tom finally turns towards you then, a spark of something softer shimmering in his otherwise so strict chocolate-brown eyes, and he takes a measured step closer.

“You didn’t have any other plans tonight, did you?” He asks, in a way that’s implying he already knows the answer—because what does he not know—and you shake your head no.

“Then that is why.”

You part your lips to question him but are interrupted by his hand reluctantly reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your cheek, trying, testing, before his hand wanders to your neck. His thumb draws small, soft patterns on your jaw, and you tense slightly at the contact. He stops then momentarily, watching your softened expression, but when you don’t complain, he continues.

His gaze flicks to your lips, the air between the both of you growing thick with tension as he slowly leans in. Your surroundings fade into a blur, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

Tom Riddle is kissing you.

The kiss isn’t what you’d expect of someone like him—it’s soft, tender, your lips moving in sync as his second hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer.

Soon enough, he has you pressed against the railing, lips only parting from yours when a soft moan falls over your lips. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, then he goes back to kissing you as his fingertips trail up the soft skin of your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

“Okay?” He murmurs, waiting for a verbal agreement before turning you around, adjusting your position with a firm grip on your waist. He bunches the skirt around your hips, delivering a soft smack to the round curve of your now exposed ass.

A soft whimper falls over your lips, and you slightly lurch forward at the contact, but he is quick to reposition you, pulling you back to him.

It is most likely the choice of your underwear that has him go silent, fingers softly tracing along the lace of your burgundy thong, though he is quick to rid you of the last piece of fabric covering your lower body. Tom makes you step out of it, crouching down to lift your leg. You only faintly notice that he puts it in his pocket, and time to complain is sparse because his hands are back on your exposed skin within a second, cutting off your thoughts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, drawing a soft mewl from your lips, “even more so than I thought.”

Another gentle smack, and you feel his hand gently massaging your thighs before they wander up further. He doesn’t proceed—he waits, lingering there for just a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, his voice soft, and you obey, parting your thighs to allow him better access. A whimper escapes your lips when Tom fully presses himself against you, making you feel the problem you’ve caused him.

His hand leaves your thigh, traveling up until he reaches your already soaked heat, humming as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal. One finger slips inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his touch.

A second finger enters you, stretching, preparing you for him. You appreciate it—but all you want is to finally feel him.

“Riddle, please— I need you.”

His fingers withdraw then, hand wrapping around your throat instead, tilting your head backwards as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“What’s my name?”

“Tom, God— please let me feel you, Tom.” You croak out, whimpering in defeat.

He lets you go then, the sound of him undoing his belt cutting through the night. “Good girl. Sounds so good when you say it.”

He casts a warming charm on you, a pleasant heat spreading through your body, and the next thing you feel is his tip nudging against your soaked entrance, slipping inside of you with a single, slow thrust. He groans when he’s inside of you completely—and it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

He’s told you to stay quiet—though that order is quickly forgotten when he sets a steady rhythm, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to leave bruises. He stretches you perfectly, filling you completely with every snap of his hips, knuckles turning white from how hard you are gripping the railing. The sound of your skin colliding with each thrust fills the air, accompanied by your moans and whimpers and occasional low groans from the man behind you.

“Spread your legs a little further for me, love.” Tom breathes, hand slipping between your legs once more as you do. Again, he finds your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing the bud in slow, circular motions.

As your moans grow louder, walls clenching around him, he angles his thrusts slightly differently, his tip brushing over your most sensitive spots inside of you.

“Oh— Tom, don’t— don’t stop, fuck—“

His palm lands on your ass once more, but this time you arch your back into his touch, thighs trembling at the electrifying sensations shooting straight to your core.

With one of his hands on your waist, pulling you back into the sharp snaps of his hips, the other wraps around your throat again, pulling you flush against his chest. Like this he is able to reach even deeper, tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust, providing you with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck— squeezing me so tight. That good?”

You only manage a nod in return, eyelids fluttering close as you near your climax, walls fluttering wildly around his invading length.

“Open your eyes and look at the sky when you come, darling.”

So you do.

With one last high-pitched moan, you tumble over the edge, hot, white pleasure rushing through your veins as your cunt clamps down around him, his hands on your hips as they stabilize you when your knees are about to give in.

Soon after, your mind still hazy with the aftereffects of your own orgasm, he empties himself inside of you with a low groan, hips stuttering as he is buried to the hilt, making sure you take all of him.

Both of you stay like this for a while, catching your breath. Only when the warming effects of the charm he casted on you wear off does he pull out of you slowly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips at the loss. He fixes your skirt for you, takes care of his appearance before his arm wraps around your waist, helping you stand upright.

“I will need that back,” you say, pointing to the lace half hanging out of his pocket.

He tucks it away completely then. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, leaning back against the railing.

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips but fades as he studies you in the faint glow of the moonlight, his expression turning more serious.

“Did so well for me,” he says after some time, voice soft again, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You blink in confusion. Surely he didn’t—

“I wish you could see yourself the way you see the stars and the moon.” He goes on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are worthy of love.”

You shake your head. “Tom—“

Before you can protest, he presses his lips on yours, cutting off whatever words you were trying to form.

“I want you to teach me,” he exhales then, wrapping his coat around your shoulders, “how to love. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

this was requested by my lovely @riddleswhcre 🩷 thank you so much for requesting baby!! you already know I am not particularly happy with how this turned out, but I hope it was still somewhat alright. <3

part two coming April 13th! <3

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delespresso · 4 months ago

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DETESTATION ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; this was previously titled 'kiss me' lol. i cant lie, i was sort of just winging it with this one — i've been doing a lot of rivals to lovers u guys, my brain is a little confused now 😭 idk if i liked this but i hope its good! <3

prompt; “You can’t just…kiss me to win a fucking argument, [NAME]!” “You’re right…but did it work?” ps; i changed it up a bit, oops

summary; the constant back and forth was totally out of total detestation. . . right?

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

It was the third invite to the Ozdust Ballroom within the month.

Ever since the Winkie Prince showed up at Shiz a few months back, he's been influencing quite a few trips to the scandalocious venue. In fact — he started it immediately on his first day.

She didn't plan on going this time either. Even if the invite had come directly from him, while he was following her tail all over campus.

"C'mon, princess, it'll be fun," Fiyero urged as he walked behind her like a little puppy.

Typically, she refused to even be in his vicinity. With her luck though, somehow Doctor Dillamond decided he needed a tutor to push him through history class — so of course, she was chosen, being the current top student.

"Think of it as me thanking you for helping me ace history," Fiyero continued.

He did, in fact, ace his history after that. A whole A solid.

"For the millionth time, Fiyero, no," she huffed.

He rolled his eyes at another rejection, still following her as they found their way into the dining hall. It was sparse at the moment, they were quite early this time.

"Your welcome for history. But that's it," she added.

She grabbed a tray, starting to put food on it. As she did though, the infuriatingly charming — and annoying — prince stole a piece right out of her plate.

"You should learn to live a little. See the nightlife. Go dancing. We don't live forever, you know?"

She stared up at him as he just went on his little ramble about life.

"If you're worried about a dance partner—"

"I really don't care—"

"I'm sure Boq is very kind to help in that," Fiyero said with a sly smirk.

Respectfully, Boq was nice and cute in a way, but she would much rather drink a tub of toxic elixir.

She could only scoff in response, picking up her tray and finding a seat. Still he refused to let up.

"One night. Its just one night, it really won't kill you," Fiyero insisted.

"It won't, but I might kill you."

She set her tray down with a huff, but she didn't get the chance to sit yet before he was pestering her again.

"I've lived quite well, I wouldn't mind dying at your hands," he shrugged.

"Are you serious right now?" she scoffed. "I have a fork and knife an inch away from my hands, don't tempt me."

"Oh, how horrifying," he mock gasped.

Oh, this little—

"Truthfully, I find a death by my history tutor to be a beautiful exit," he continued with a smug grin.

"You have no sense of self preservation. My hands would be a painful way to die," she retorted.

He didn't miss a beat, grabbing her hands in his in such an oddly gentle manner that had her brain crashing for a moment.

"These soft hands? I find that hard to believe."

She blinked rapidly, just staring at the way he held her hands to his chest for no reason. Why was her head spinning? Why was her pulse rushing?

"You're infuriating," she managed to hiss as she pulled her hands away.

Really, she had no idea why this man annoyed her so much. She felt an irrational amount of irritation when he was around. Her head would sometimes go empty when she looked at him, her heart suddenly going too fast and her stomach feeling like it was floating.

Dislike. Pure, utter, dislike. Loathing, perhaps. Detestation.

Those were the only acceptable answers.

She ended up taking her lunch to go, bringing it with her to eat somewhere else where she could escape him.

"Come dancing tonight!" he tried again even as she stomped away from him and replied over without turning back.

"Eat grass!"

It was her roommate that dragged her to the Ozdust Ballroom that night. No one else.

Certainly not the persistent, annoyingly handsome prince. No.

She allowed herself to have fun for a while, dancing around with her roommate. She didn't catch a single glimpse of him so she assumed he bailed.

She would be absolutely wrong when she ended up twirling right into his arms.

Fiyero's hands were on her waist, keeping her right there as her hands ended up on his biceps. He grinned down at her, that casual and laidback smile he always had.

"You came."

"Not because of you."

He chuckled at her quick defensiveness. It was cute to him. Taking her hand, he gave her a quick whirl before pulling her close again.

"Of course not," he agreed.

"Plenty of other reasons to come to a party," she nodded.

"Mhm."

"Nice ambience, people in nice outfits," she started to list aimlessly.

"Yes, they do dress up nice," he continued to agree.

"Good music, exceptional dancing—"

"You dance well."

"Random excuse to dress myself up too—"

"You look lovely."

"The lights are quite nice too, all blueish—"

She didn't get the chance to keep yapping when suddenly a pair of warm lips were on hers. It felt like she was on fire. A good kind of fire. When she opened her eyes again and their lips parted, she met his gaze under the lights.

Her lips were parted, her breath catching. Her face was definitely flushing and Oz— her head was reeling. She was too flustered she ended up fumbling her words.

"You can't just kiss me to win an argument, Fiyero!"

He laughed at her reaction. In hindsight, he should've probably not do it out of nowhere. But her reaction was priceless.

"Yeah, probably not. But it shut you up," he mused.

She stared up at him, eyes wide as she was clearly baffled.

"You need to stop finding excuses, princess," he teased, giving her yet another whirl.

Her dress flared out before she ended up back with him, flush against his chest. Whatever she felt for him was strong. Though she was starting to suspect it wasn't actually detestation.

She'd likely been in denial.

"You need to not kiss someone without permission," she retorted anyway.

Fiyero only smiled, but at least he nodded sincerely with a bit of a shrug.

"Fair enough. Sorry," he agreed. "Can I have a redo?"

She raised a single brow up at him, this time catching up with the dance way better than when she initially ended up in his arms. A coy, almost teasing smile pulled on her lips as she casually ended up leading the dance.

"Let's see your dancing first, Winkie Prince."

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eddieslunchbox · 1 month ago

Text

eighty-six, baby

summary: the ups and downs of the day eddie finally graduates

18+ [boyfriend!eddie x female!reader]

contains: blood, violence, bullying, hurt/comfort, swearing, mentions of alcohol, superficial injuries, fluff, kissing, surprise party, dustin and eddie acting like siblings

word count: 9.7k

a/n: baby's graduation day! eddie really deserved to walk across that stage in '86 and this is my interpretation of how he ended up going out with a bang and some blood. please heed the warning above if you're not comfortable with blood/violence. as always, please reblog/comment if you enjoyed this- I love hearing from you ❤

A metal clang rings through Eddie’s ears as he shuts the lid of his, now empty, lunch box, having met up for one final deal before the start of the ceremony. He shoves the tin into the back of his van and plucks his graduation cap off of the passenger seat.

"Hey, Munson!"

Eddie stiffens, his knuckles turning white around his cap as he straightens his spine and heaves a heavy sigh through his nose.

Graduation starts in thirty minutes and he really thought that he could avoid this today, but he just isn’t that lucky.

Shutting the door to his van and turning around, he plasters an unbothered smirk on his face to meet Jason and Andy, both dressed in their gowns like everyone else.

“Happy graduation, freak.” Andy grins, trailing behind Jason until they both come to stand in front of Eddie, effectively cornering him against the side of his van and blocking anyone’s view who may be walking through the parking lot. “I’m shocked that Higgins is actually letting you take home a diploma today.”

Eddie brushes this off, glancing towards the school where you’re waiting inside the front doors for him to finish his deal so that you could steal one last kiss before he has to line up with the other students.

“Happy graduation, fellas.” He tips his chin in a small bow. “If you came here for a trade, you’re out of luck as of-” he glances at his watch, “three minutes ago.”

Before he can blink, Jason is wrapping his fist around the collar of Eddie’s gown and slamming him against the side of his van, rolling his eyes in the process.

“We don’t want your weed, freak,” Jason grits, the corner of his lip turning up in a menacing smile. “You really think I was just gonna let you walk right out of here without a goodbye?”

Eddie plasters on his best poker face despite the way his heart skips a beat in his chest, Jason’s breath fanning across his face smelling like beer and the remnants of cigar smoke.

This was the third year Eddie spent as a senior in high school and with your help, he finally managed to get good enough grades and actually submit all of his assignments to secure his diploma and get the hell out of Hawkins High.

When you met, Eddie was in the eleventh grade and you in the tenth, and you were the dictionary definition of high school sweethearts. Attached at the hip and caught making out in the hallway between classes a few too many times.

When Eddie was held back from graduating the first time, he was pissed but he also secretly enjoyed getting to spend another year with you, taking a majority of the same classes. The second time it happened though, he had to watch you graduate while he sat in the stands with a flimsy bouquet of flowers in his hand and a shameful feeling in his stomach that he was forced to be there again, but this time without you.

And on the first day of what ended up being his final senior year, Jason and his gang were in the same grade and opted to fuel their egos through Eddie’s torment, making him their own personal punching bag whenever they needed to blow off some steam. It worked in their favour, not having you around, but you still knew what went on when you would show up to Eddie’s trailer on a Friday night and he opened the door with a bag of peas pressed against his cheek.

He never took the bullying well, at least not behind closed doors. And after attempting to fight back and being pummelled into the ground for a fourth time, earning himself a concussion, Eddie stopped defending himself.

They were stronger than him. So he let the jocks take what they needed without really blinking an eye, and he got off a little easier for it.

When he showed up to school with a black eye or a fat lip, he acted like it didn’t exist. No matter the judgemental looks he received from his teachers or the worried ones from his friends. But he struggled with the embarrassment he felt for himself, that teenagers were the ones overpowering him.

It was something he eventually confided in you with when he broke down over the phone one night the week after Christmas break.

They made him feel weak, immature, and downright stupid each time he was forced to clean up his nose in the school bathroom before Hellfire or see the look on his uncle’s face when he came home with another shiner.

But now, he’s graduating.

Third time’s a charm, he had said to you the night before the first day of class, and had been more determined than ever to get it right this time.

And he did.

But he still isn’t so lucky to believe that he could’ve gone the entire day without running into Jason.

“Look-” Eddie mutters, his jaw tightening. “I’m not fighting you. So just let it go, man,” he says, stooping low enough to practically plead for his own mercy today.

Wayne is here, waiting for him in the stands with the rest of the parents and families, and you’re bound to walk out of the school at any minute, looking for him.

“Shut up. You’re a piece of shit, Munson,” Jason spits, his nose close to brushing against Eddie’s with how close he’s standing. “I think I deserve one last hurrah, don’t I?” he breathes through a smile that makes Eddie’s stomach turn. “To show everyone here you’re just some weak and pathetic satanist that can’t even bother defending himself?”

“Jason- just wait… at least until after the ceremony, man, please-”

“You’re the last person here who deserves to walk across that stage today. You can go ahead and show your girl how fucking pathetic you are.”

Eddie manages to keep a straight face despite that comment feeling more painful than the fist that Jason throws across his face. His knuckles collide with the top of his cheek bone and skim across his nose with a soft cracking sound, springing tears to his eyes.

Warmth immediately spills from Eddie’s nose and before he can turn his head back to face his abuser, a glob of spit lands directly on his cheek that makes him wince.

“I truly wish you all of the best,” Jason says when he drops his hold around Eddie’s collar and takes a step back. “Lord knows you’ll be spending the rest of your life slinging drugs in alleyways until the chief finally locks you up for good.”

Eddie glances at Jason who grins as he walks backwards, knocking his fist against Andy’s.

“See you up there, yeah?” Jason points behind him to the football field where the ceremony is taking place. He sucks his tongue against his teeth before spinning on his heel and making his way back around the front of the school where everyone is starting to line up.

Blood seeps between Eddie’s lips and he spits it onto the ground, lifting his arm to wipe off the saliva on his cheek with his sleeve.

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, bringing his hand to his nose and glancing at his fingers to see them coated bright red.

Your eyes flicker up to the clock above the doors, letting out a quiet sigh when Eddie still hasn’t shown. You cross your arms over your chest and rest your head on the wall, silently hoping he didn’t bail at the last minute since you had to convince him to come to this thing in the first place.

It’s only when you spot Jason and Andy walking past the front doors, laughing about something that you feel your stomach drop. Jason pulls a cigar from the pocket of his gown and you spot the blotchy red skin covering his knuckles.

“Shit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and stepping outside, rushing around the building to where Eddie’s van is parked.

The back doors are open wide, facing the forest where he backed in when he arrived and there’s a wet, red stain painting the road next to his passenger side door. You press your lips together, your heart rising into your throat.

Eddie is sitting in the back of the van, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and a tissue soaked in blood pressed against his nose. Broken blood vessels are painting the skin under his eye, turning a deep shade of red as it swells.

“Eddie…” you gasp, shoulders falling as you spot the two tissues he’s already discarded.

His head lifts up when you reach down to pick up his graduation cap off the ground where he dropped it, brushing it clean with your hand.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, voice nasally as he holds the tissue tightly to his nose.

You glance towards the school, aware that the students are starting to line up. If Eddie doesn’t get there in time, he won’t be walking the stage.

Climbing into his van on your knees, you set his cap to the side and grab a few more tissues from the box he keeps in the back.

“Let me see,” you say, pulling out the water bottle you brought in your bag for the long day, dampening one of the tissues.

Eddie turns to you and carefully lowers the maroon coloured tissue from his nose. Your eyes dart across his features and threaten to fill with tears, drops of red staining the green and orange stole that sits around his neck.

Blood seeps slowly from one of his nostrils and you bring the tissue to his upper lip, carefully cleaning away the drying blood that’s smeared there. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not broken,” he says, voice quiet and although he didn’t answer your question, you don’t push. When your finger grazes over the side of his nose, he hisses, pulling away and lifting his hand to your wrist. “Fuck- stop. I’ll do it.”

You frown, sitting back on your heels. “We don’t have time. You need to stop the bleeding, everyone is lining up already.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t?”

He shakes his head, letting your arm go and plucking a fresh tissue to hold under his dripping nose. “I’m not walking that fucking stage,” he mutters, and you don’t miss the sheen of saltwater that spills across his vision before he looks down at the pavement. “Not like this. Not when Wayne is here… he-” his breath catches in his throat and his jaw tightens, “-it’s humiliating.”

A lump forms in your throat that you swallow down, lifting your hand to his chin and turning him back to face you. You keep a gentle grip on his face as you wipe up the remainder of blood on his face, which he doesn’t fight you on.

“I didn’t even fucking do anything this time, I barely said a word but he needed to get one last punch in,” he continues, blinking quickly in an attempt to clear his bleary eyes. “But he got what he wanted. I’m not going up there. I shouldn’t even be getting this diploma.”

You pause at his words, lifting your eyes to his which are averted down to your thighs. “Did Jason say that to you?”

“Does it matter?”

He lifts a hand to rub at his uninjured eye and you notice the blood staining his fingers, dropping the dirtied tissue to the side and wetting a new one. He looks at you when you take his hand into your lap, chin tilted down to your chest as you clean up his skin.

“You deserve to graduate more than anyone here, Eddie,” you start, his brows twitching down at the conviction in your voice. “And you’re going to walk across that stage today and snatch that god damn diploma out of Principal Higgins hand, give him the bird, and celebrate the fact that you’re finally getting the hell out of here.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, noticing that his nose has almost stopped bleeding.

“This shit doesn’t make you weak,” you quietly continue, tilting his chin up to wipe up the blood sitting in his nose. “And Wayne isn’t going to think you are. Especially not if you go up there without caring about what any of those assholes think about you. They may be physically stronger than you, but they have nothing over you, Eddie. You’re already so much more than they will ever be.”

He’s quiet when you drop your hand from his chin and ball up the tissues in your hand to throw away later. His rings clink together as he curls his hand into a fist before flexing his fingers outward and back again, a nervous habit he developed a few years ago.

“You proved everyone wrong this year. And you’re graduating today. You finished high school.”

Despite the gnarly bruise that’s forming beneath his eye and the blood on his gown, he still looks just as beautiful as he did this morning when his lips curl up in a shy smirk, and he lifts his eyes to yours.

“Fuck Jason and his friends, you’re not going to see them again after today. And this day is for you. No one else,” you say, lifting your hands to rest on his cheeks, smoothing your thumbs over his skin to collect any tears lingering there. “Got it?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, sniffling and wincing slightly at the taste of blood in his throat. “Yeah, sweetheart. I got it.”

“Good. Now… just try not to touch your nose for a while. It stopped bleeding for now but you might like… rip something open again if you do anything,” you murmur, eyeing his nose carefully. “Do you want me to break into the nurse’s office and find an ice pack for your eye?”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he replies despite the throbbing pain in his face. “But, are you really going to make me walk out there with blood on my gown?” he says in jest although he knows that it’ll only solidify his standing as the ‘freak of Hawkins High’ until he walks off of that stage and doesn’t look back.

“You might need to avoid Mrs. Click after the ceremony or she’ll make you pay for it, but-”

You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips eagerly meeting yours, muffling the noise of surprise you make. He rests his hand against the side of your neck, forcing himself to stop from melting into a puddle on the pavement from the way you slide your fingers into his hair, the sweet lip gloss you’re wearing smearing against his lips.

His nose brushes your cheek and forces him to pull back from the sting, his lips glossy and pupils wide when your eyes flutter back open.

“What was that for?” you giggle quietly as he slips his tongue out over his bottom lip to taste the gloss on his mouth and presses his fingers into the side of your thigh.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he breathes, sniffling softly. “I still wish that we would’ve been graduating together- but you’re here, and I couldn’t do this shit without you.”

You smile, giving him another quick kiss before swiping away some of the lip gloss on his bottom lip. “Don’t get all sappy on me already. You’re not allowed to make me cry until the ceremony.”

He chuckles with the shake of his head, tilting his head down to glance at his watch. His face falls slightly as he sighs. “I should get going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to find you some ice? It’s going to be a while before your name is called.”

He shakes his head as you take in the swelling skin below his eye, knowing that his appearance is going to end up shocking some of the parents there today when he gets his diploma. Not that he cares about them.

“I’m sure,” he cements and you give him a small, unsure frown. “I don’t want you worrying about me- I swear I’m good.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “But I have some tylenol that you should take.” Pulling out a couple of capsules from your bag, you drop them into his hand and he swallows them down with the water you brought. “And bring your sunglasses. It’s sunny.”

You have no doubt that he is going to wind up with a headache by the end of the day, more sensitive to sunlight ever since his head got slammed into the ground by one of Jason’s friends after Eddie threw a punch that busted their lip open a week before Halloween last year.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie murmurs and you roll your eyes, leaning into the kiss he presses to your cheek before plucking his sunglasses off of the floor of his van and sliding them onto his nose.

He grabs his graduation cap before getting up and pulling you up with him. “I’ll be in the stands with Wayne, but if you need anything-”

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” he assures you, tugging you into his chest for one last hug before he locks his van and leaves you to go sit under the sweltering sun for the next hour. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you mumble, kissing him again before stepping back and nudging him towards the school. “Now go!”

He smirks, walking backward and giving you a two-fingered salute before spinning on his heel and sauntering off across the parking lot.

You make your way back over to the football field, spotting Wayne at the end of one of the rows, saving a seat for you next to Dustin who Eddie had no idea was here. They had become pretty good friends over the school year and Dustin was the reason Eddie had started getting passionate about his Hellfire campaigns again after the slump he went through when school first began.

And, Dustin practically begged you to let him come today, although you never thought of turning him down when he asked the first time, knowing Eddie would appreciate having him here even if he denied it.

Climbing the steps, you give Wayne a small smile before sliding past him to sit down, Dustin immediately holding out a bag of trail mix for you. “Thank you,” you mumble, plucking some from the bag to munch on.

The graduates are slowly filling into the seats but you can’t see Eddie yet.

“Hey,” you say suddenly, turning to Dustin. “Could you do me a favour?”

“Uh, depends what it is,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth.

“I need you to sneak into the school and find Eddie an ice pack and some water,” you reply and he looks at you with the raise of his brows high on his forehead. “And you’ll need to get it to him during all the blabbering-” You wave your hand towards the stage where the teachers are quietly conversing to each other. “Please?”

Dustin glances towards the school. “What happened?”

“What do you think?” you mutter quietly and he frowns, turning to you.

“Alright,” he sighs, shoving the bag of trail mix into your hand. “But if I get caught, you owe me big. And I mean big.”

“Deal.”

With a pause of hesitation, Dustin sighs before standing up and making his way down the stairs, disappearing behind the stands. Wayne clears his throat and you glance at him.

“He has a black eye,” you say unpromptedly and he blinks at you. “But he’s fine... I made sure.”

He doesn’t reply, flickering his gaze towards where the students are walking into the field, his lips pursing softly in disappointment.

“Dustin’s finding him some ice, and I gave him painkillers so he’ll make it through the ceremony without any issue. And this is… well hopefully, the last time he’ll ever deal with this,” you quietly continue and Wayne nods, keeping his eyes on the teenagers when he finally speaks up.

“Who did it?” he asks, nodding towards the group and you glance over, seeing that most of the first few rows are filled in, but Jason happens to be standing at the side of the stage, talking to his coach and tilting his head back with a loud laugh.

“Kid beside the stage… It’s been him and some of his friends.”

Shaking his head, he sighs and sits back, hands clasping the edge of the seat beneath him. “Well… thank you. For always making sure he’s okay.”

“Of course,” you shrug like it’s nothing and it makes Wayne smile as he plucks the program off of the seat and flips through it to pass the time.

When you finally spot Eddie making his way onto the field, his sunglasses are still perched on his nose and his graduation cap sits snugly on his head, flattening some of his curls. His head turns towards the bleachers and you can tell the exact moment he spots you, a grin spreading on his lips before he eagerly waves to you.

You smile, waving back and nudging his uncle’s leg with your knee to get his attention. He spots Eddie and lifts his hand in a wave, smiling softly as he follows the line into the next row of chairs stationed on the grass and sits down, his back facing you.

You’re glad he’s in good spirits after what happened and can only hope that the rest of the day goes smoothly.

About ten minutes later, while Principal Higgins is in the middle of his speech, you spot quiet commotion coming from the side of the field. Dustin is pulling his arm away from one of the teachers standing by the exit, a bottle of water and a plastic bag filled with ice clutched in his hands.

He manages to get out of her grip and runs towards the plastic chairs, catching the attention of almost everyone in the stands as he slides into the row that Eddie is in with his lips moving in what you can only assume to be quiet apologies to the people he passes. He stops halfway through the row and shoves the items into Eddie’s lap without a word before turning around and hurrying out of there.

A teacher is making her way over to him but he immediately darts around the rows of chairs and back over to where you’re sitting, his feet slamming loudly against the metal stairs as he climbs them. He hurriedly squeezes past you and Wayne and sits down with a heavy sigh, panting to catch his breath.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he huffs and you ignore the glances of both parents and students in favour of finding Eddie in the crowd, his body twisted in his seat and sunglasses in his hand.

He raises an eyebrow at you and you just smile, shrugging your shoulders to your ears. His tongue pokes into his cheek and a smile tugs at his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. You pucker your lips and press your fingers to them before blowing him a kiss, his cheeks turning a visible shade of pink.

With his sunglasses off you can see that his eye is now a deep shade of purple, and you’re glad you didn’t listen to him about the ice, knowing he’ll be grateful he has it if he needs it.

He turns around in his seat and you can feel another pair of eyes on you, lifting your gaze towards the second row of students where Jason has his head turned, eyes narrowing in your direction.

You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers at him before promptly sticking out your tongue, making his jaw tick in annoyance. He rolls his eyes and slumps into his chair as he looks back towards the stage and you smile in satisfaction, dropping your chin to rest in your hand.

You, Dustin, and Wayne spend the next little while finishing off the bag of trail mix and keeping as hydrated as possible in the heat, and you silently envy the parents who brought umbrellas to shade themselves from the unrelenting sun as you fold up your program into an accordion to fan yourself with.

The ceremony doesn’t drag on as much as you anticipated it would, already on the L’s after forty-five minutes, but Dustin is keeping himself occupied with the copy of Lord of the Rings he had borrowed from Eddie, who checked it out of the school library two years ago and dodged enough late fees until the librarian reluctantly ordered a new copy in replacement.

None of you are planning to stick around once Eddie gets his diploma, knowing that the last thing he would want is to be forced to sit here for the next hour or two until the end of the ceremony. And there’s currently an ice cream cake sitting in Wayne’s freezer that Eddie doesn’t know about, but that you’re dying to dig into after sitting in the sun all morning.

Wayne wipes a bead of sweat off of his temple with the back of his hand and you trade programs with him so that he can use your makeshift fan, flipping through his pristine one until you find the list of names. There’s only five people in front of Eddie and you glance up to see that his row is lining up at the side of the stage.

His water and ice were promptly discarded onto his seat before he stood up which you’re unsurprised by, happy nonetheless that he keeps his sunglasses perched over his eyes until the first M name is called out. Eddie tugs his glasses off and shoves them into the pocket of his gown, his eye visibly black and blue even from where you’re sitting.

Of course, this being his last day ever at Hawkins High, he’s going out with a bang. Although, you don’t miss the way he starts to fiddle with the rings on his fingers, toeing at the ground with nerves the closer he gets to the stage.

Wayne glances at you when you pull your camera from your bag, turning it on and tugging your bag back over your shoulder. “I’ll get a photo of him. Just enjoy this,” you say when you catch his eye and he quietly clears his throat, nodding as he looks towards the stage again.

You stand up and make your way out of the stands, careful not to trip over your feet on the steep stairs before walking closer to the side of the stage Eddie will be leaving from. Fiddling with your camera, you spot him on the other end, gripping the railing tightly as the student in front of him grabs his diploma and shakes Principal Higgins hand.

“Edward Waylon Munson,” Mr. Kaminski drones from his place at the podium and there’s scattered applause as Eddie hops up onto the stage with his signature smirk on his face.

You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes as you lift your camera to your eye. Principal Higgings barely holds out the diploma before Eddie grabs it from his hand with a mocking bow. He turns to walk backwards for a few steps and lifts his middle finger into the air, letting out a loud “whoo!” that makes a few parents in the audience jump.

He is a sight to see with his frizzy curls poofing out from underneath his graduation cap and the violent bruise painting his cheek, but no one would have a clue that he was ever bothered by his injuries.

You’re not surprised when Eddie’s eyes snap to a section in the front row, hearing a quiet yell from Jason that you can’t understand but which makes your jaw tick in frustration. Eddie merely tilts his head to the side and lifts his hands up near his head, poking his fingers up and sticking his tongue out with a crazed look in his eye.

A few gasps erupt from the bleachers and Eddie’s face falls into an amused smirk as he lowers his hands back to his sides.

Snapping a few pictures, you hear Dustin cheering loudly from the stands next to Wayne and there’s a few others from the crowd that you recognize as Robin and Nancy, both who are in the same graduating class, Eddie’s bandmates, Mike, and Steve who you spotted in the bleachers when you first arrived.

Higgins and the other teachers roll their eyes, grumbling nonsense under their breaths, but Eddie just smiles, giving a two-fingered salute to Dustin and Wayne.

A lump settles at the base of your throat with your emotion, happy that despite all the people who had no problem voicing their negative opinion about him over the years, and particularly this past school year, that he still did make a couple of friends that were actually happy he was able to finally get his diploma.

There’s a soft pink hue ghosting across Eddie’s unmarred cheek that you’re pretty sure is from the handful of genuine cheers he received that he never expected, but you know if you mention it, he’ll blame it on the sun.

He tugs his tassel to the side and practically skips down the steps onto the grass as you shove your camera back into your bag and find his eyes with a beaming smile on your face. You hurry to meet him halfway, leaping into his arms with your legs wrapping around his hips and arms latching onto his shoulders.

Neither of you care about the eyes of anyone in the crowd as you hug him tightly. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eddie Munson,” you say with so much conviction that his eyes threaten to water as he buries his head in your neck. “You did it!”

You pull away, planting your hands on his cheeks and your lips on his. It’s hard to kiss him with your smile and you pull back when he groans.

“Careful of the eye, sweetheart,” he murmurs through a grin and you giggle an apology, sliding your hand to the back of his neck and kissing him again.

He sets you back down on the ground a few seconds later, keeping his lips on yours with a content hum vibrating his chest, only stopping when you hear Dustin’s voice.

“Get a room.”

Eddie smiles, pulling away from you and glancing up to see Dustin and Wayne walking over to you. You step to the side and notice the slight shift in Eddie’s expression when he sees his uncle’s glossy eyes.

You fumble to pull your camera back out of your bag as Wayne clasps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, shaking his head as he takes in the bruise on his cheek. “Christ boy,” he mutters. “That’s one hell of a way to go, isn’t it?” he jokes, making Eddie laugh before pulling him into a hug.

It’s hard to decipher any of the words they exchange as you snap a photo of the sweet moment, Eddie pulling back with a wobbly lip before he sniffles and glances down to his feet, letting out a soft laugh when Wayne pats a heavy hand on his back.

“Know I’m proud of you kid,” Wayne mutters and Eddie wipes at his eyes with his sleeve with a quick nod.

The sweet moment ends abruptly when Dustin walks up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders, making Eddie stiffen slightly.

“I knew you could fucking do it, Eddie-” he starts and Eddie gives him a brief pat on the back before squirming out of his hold, Dustin ducking before he can put him in a headlock. “You’re gonna let me use the throne now, right?”

“Considering none of those other guys take it seriously enough… Yeah, it’s yours man.”

You smile when Dustin pumps his fist into the air with a whispered “yes” and continues babbling about his campaign ideas as the four of you walk towards the parking lot.

Luckily Eddie’s friends walked the stage before him, so he isn’t missing out on anything, leaving early. He throws his sunglasses back on and waits until you’re at his side to slide his hand into yours, lightly bumping his hip against your side.

“You have to keep hosting campaigns, you’re the best Dungeon Master there is!” Dustin exclaims with wide eyes as you step off the grass and onto the asphalt, turning to walk backwards so he can look at Eddie. “I have so many things I still need to show you, and you have to help me with my own games now, and-”

“Dude, relax,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’m not giving up DM that easily. You’re taking the reins here-” he points to the school. “But I’ll still host campaigns, I just have to work out the details first.”

Dustin’s shoulders slump in relief and you notice the tiniest hint of a smile on Eddie’s face once he turns back around.

Wayne is parked a couple cars down from the van and you stop in the middle to part ways, Eddie lifting his foot to nudge at Dustin’s leg.

“Thanks for coming, man. Means a lot,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Dustin frowns. “Obviously. We’re all going to your house.”

You roll your eyes with a small sigh, not knowing why you ever trusted Dustin to keep even part of a secret to himself.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, glancing from Wayne to you and you give him a small smile, shrugging your shoulders.

“Come on,” you start, hooking your arm into his and tugging him towards his van. “Let’s go before someone says too much.”

“You got something planned?” he asks with a teasing smirk before his face falls slightly and he tugs you back. “But wait, can we stop for milkshakes or something? I’m sweating my ass off.”

“Don’t you need to go and return that gown before you go anywhere?” Wayne pipes up from behind him and Eddie spins on his heel, plucking at the fabric covering his chest.

“Not unless I wanna give ‘em any amount of money for this,” he says, grimacing down at the blood, now stained a murky shade of brown against the fabric. “They can’t do shit about it once I’m gone.”

“If you say so,” Wayne grumbles, rounding the bed of his truck to get into the driver’s seat as Dustin climbs in on the other side.

“We don’t need to stop for milkshakes,” you say and Eddie looks back at you with his bottom lip jutting out.

“Hey-” Wayne suddenly calls from over the top of his truck and Eddie turns back. “Don’t get any more speeding tickets, alright? ‘Cause I’m not paying for them anymore. You’re finished high school, so you’re not getting away with that shit as easily,” he scolds with a pointed look towards his nephew, but you can see the glimmer of pride in his gaze.

Eddie doesn’t reply but gives him a thumbs up before turning to you and curling his arm around your shoulders.

“So… why are you denying a graduate his milkshake? You know I’m driving right, so you don’t really have the ultimate say-”

“It’s a surprise!” you cut him off and he laughs, walking with you to the side of his van.

“One sec,” he quips before he’s ripping the stole off over his head and hastily unzipping the gown with a relieved sigh when the slight breeze in the air flits across his skin.

Your eyes trail down to what he’s wearing underneath, which you did see before he picked up his gown this morning, but it had somehow slipped your mind.

His favourite ripped black jeans are sitting on his hips, lacking their usual jewelry in place of an old leather belt that has a faded silver buckle of a skull resting just below his navel. A fitted, black singlet tank top hugs his lean figure, tucked into his jeans and showing off his arms which are slightly more defined than usual with the push-ups he started doing a few weeks ago.

He pushes the gown off of his shoulders, letting the fabric drop to the ground and your eyes drag over the recent additions on his arms from over the last year, the dark ink prominent across his pale skin.

When he turns to pick up the discarded gown, you notice the sheen of sweat coating his heated skin, glimmering under the summer sun and matting down the subtle peek of hair you glimpse under his arm.

Eddie turns his head to look at you and a smirk lifts to his face when he watches your lips part as your eyes dart over his figure.

“Baby?” he drags on slowly, standing up straight and tilting his head to the side.

Your eyes snap back up to his face, cheeks growing flush. “What?”

His eyes crinkle softly as he laughs, pulling open the door to his van and chucking his cap and gown behind the front seat with the fake diploma, the real one being sent through the mail in the coming weeks.

“See something you like?” he teases before lifting himself onto his toes and turning his back to you, whipping his head over his shoulder with a much too-forced smoulder that makes you giggle. “Doesn’t this deserve a milkshake?”

“No, Eddie!” you laugh, nudging him to get inside the van. “There’s something better at your house. Promise.”

“Oh yeah?” He arches his brow at you, perching himself on the edge of the driver’s seat, and you nod. “Consider me intrigued.”

He pulls you in for a kiss by the back of your neck, moaning quietly at the taste of your lip gloss before patting the back of your thigh and telling you to get in the van.

The drive back to his trailer is filled with blaring music combined with Eddie’s screams as he sings along, batting his hands against the steering wheel and bopping his head enough that his hair sticks to his cheeks, damp from the heat. There’s a wide smile on his face for almost the entire drive and you watch him and his happiness, recognizing how much more relaxed he already seems, the further away from the school you get.

The air conditioning in his van busted yesterday and he hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet, so you’re sweating in places you didn’t even know could sweat, but nothing could have stumped your happiness in that moment, knowing that he’s finally free of all of the shit that’s been holding him back for so many years.

He reaches over to turn down the music when he pulls into the trailer park, having been scolded more than once by his elderly neighbour for the noise. He has a soft spot for her though, shovelling her walk in the winter in exchange for a cup of cocoa, or scrubbing her car clean in the summertime for a lemonade, like he’s done for the last handful of years.

You take your seatbelt off before he’s even put the van into park next to Wayne’s truck, twisting around to grab his graduation cap, smoothing the tassel out between your fingers. He watches you, shutting off the van and dipping his chin when you lean forward to secure the cap over his curls again.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, nose twitching when the tassel tickles his skin.

“Can you keep it on for a little bit?”

“Why?” He lifts his head and you push the tassel to the side of the cap, smiling at him.

“Because, I’m proud of you and you look really cute wearing it.”

His features briefly twist in annoyance as he groans, but you catch the faint smile that quivers at the corner of his lips. “Fine. But it’s coming off as soon as you’re done taking all your little photos.”

With that, you both get out and Eddie sighs in relief from no longer being in the hot, humid air inside of his van. He lingers in the subtle breeze, tipping his chin up towards the sky with his eyes falling closed and you take the opportunity to snap another picture of him, his head turning to you when he hears your camera.

You smile at him, shoving it back into your bag and holding your hand out. “Come on, I’m dying out here.”

He grins at you, looking like an excited little boy as he strides over to take your hand and follow you eagerly up the stairs and into the trailer.

“We’re home!” Eddie bellows, the screen door loudly slamming shut behind him. “There better be a damn good reason why I couldn’t buy myself a shake-”

He pauses, taking in the sight of the four boys sitting in the living room, talking each other’s ears off about some movie you haven’t seen. Your shoulders fall in relief that his bandmates made it to the trailer before you did, knowing they only left the ceremony as soon as Eddie walked off of the stage.

There’s a shiny foil banner hung above the television, reading “Happy Graduation!” and a few balloons scattered around the room; the most you were able to do in the short time you had the trailer to yourself this morning when Wayne took Eddie out for breakfast.

No one even glances up at Eddie’s voice, too engrossed in their conversation and you press your lips together with a disappointed roll of your eyes, having initially planned that they would all surprise Eddie as soon as the two of you walked through the door. Not even Dustin looks up, rambling to Gareth.

“Surprise?” you say timidly, looking up at Eddie to see a crease between his brows, an unreadable expression on his face.

His eyes snap down to yours when he hears your voice and his face softens. “You planned this?”

You nod. “I know it isn’t a big… party or anything, and if you want, I’m sure we can head over to Steve’s a little later to see everyone else but I just thought-”

You end up cutting yourself off with a quiet ‘oof’ when Eddie crushes you in a hug, almost knocking you straight onto the floor with the force, if only his arms weren’t holding you tightly against his chest.

“You’re incredible,” Eddie breathes into your neck, pressing his face there despite the pain radiating in his cheekbone. “I don’t care about a party… this is all I wanted- even more than I thought I did,” he says before pulling back and placing his hands on the sides of your neck. “Shit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks and glancing at the party banner on the wall. “I was so happy just to come back here with you and Wayne.”

“I still thought it would be a little bit more than this,” you say in quiet frustration, motioning to the boys in the living room who still haven’t acknowledged either of you. “They were at least supposed to say ‘surprise.’”

The smile on his face only grows before he’s pushing at your shoulders until your back hits the wall, his lips promptly smearing against yours. His kiss is rough and a little uncoordinated but it only lasts for a couple of seconds, Eddie pulling back when you hear a familiar, low clearing of a throat.

Wayne stands with his hip resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“Should I barbecue tonight, or do you want to go out again?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over the scruff on his chin and Eddie’s face drops into a sarcastic scowl.

“Do you have to ask?” he accuses and Wayne grumbles something under his breath before turning to go back into the kitchen, waving a dismissive hand.

“You’re helping me grill then,” Wayne calls and Eddie gives him a salute that he doesn’t see, turning back to you.

“This is still a surprise, baby,” he reassures your previous comment, tilting his head towards the living room. “But if you think you’re ever gonna pull them away from talking about Day of the Dead, you’re so wrong,” he drags out his words, voice dropping into a low hum.

You laugh, his hands squeezing at your hips before he plants another kiss onto your lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs and you smile, dipping your chin to rest your forehead on his.

“You’re welcome… Are you happy?”

“So fuckin’ happy,” he whispers, eyes glimmering in delight and you think today might just be the day that those brown eyes officially make your heart burst into pieces.

“Can I show you why we didn’t stop for shakes now? Maybe we can actually all cool off,” you ask and he nods quickly, the tassel on his cap wiggling with the movement.

Wayne is pouring sodas for everyone into solo cups when you walk into the kitchen, two beers dripping in condensation sitting on the counter and Eddie slips one into his hand, taking a swig of it. He keeps his hand on your hip as you pull open the door to the freezer, the icy air coming out in visible clouds and chilling your skin.

You feel his chin come down to rest on the top of your head while you grab the ice cream cake and slip out of his grip to set it on the counter.

His eyes widen when he sees it, blindly shutting the freezer and standing next to you with his jaw falling open in surprise.

It’s a simple sheet cake with white icing covering the entire thing, black piping around the edges and the demon from his Hellfire logo iced onto the centre in gel next to a dark green graduation cap, matching the one sitting on his head.

The words at the top of the cake read, 'Graduating Munson of ‘86,' with a cursive, 'Congratulations!' piped below the demon’s head.

Eddie cackles at the message on the cake as you pop off the frosty lid and set it to the side.

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he beams, sliding his hands around your waist to pull you into his chest. “You do this?”

“Maybe… I placed the order anyway,” you reply, smiling when he tightens his arms around you. “Wayne came up with the writing though.”

“Well we’re not celebrating the whole bloody class of ‘86, ‘side from your boys,” Wayne mumbles from his place near the sink, nodding towards the living room.

“Is it chocolate inside?” Eddie asks, lips brushing your ear.

“Duh.”

His hand lifts up, eager to swipe off some of the icing on the side of the cake.

“Ah!” You lightly slap his hand away. “You’ll get your piece. But don’t you want a picture before you dig into it?”

“Hell yeah,” he agrees and moves around you to pick up the cake carefully in his hands while you bring your camera back out.

He smiles widely at you and you lift your camera to your eye. “Say ‘happy graduation!’”

The camera goes off but you instruct him to take another one and he pretends to pose just to humour you before he leans down and takes a big bite off the corner of the cake, smearing his face and nose with black and white icing as soon as the shutter goes off.

“Eddie!” Your jaw drops as you lower the camera and he looks at you innocently, chewing down the cake and ice cream in his mouth. “That’s going to stain your face.”

Wayne chuckles as Eddie’s face falls and he puts the cake down, sticking his tongue out to try and lick up the black icing on his upper lip. His uncle tosses a wet kitchen towel at his face as you move to start cutting up the cake.

“Better?” Eddie asks after a few seconds and you glance at him to see a small stripe of black still staining the side of his top lip and darkening the stubble he has there.

“Sure.” You smile and he frowns, poking a finger into your side.

When the cake is cut and distributed onto paper plates, Wayne calls the boys to grab their food and Eddie saunters into the living room with his arm curled around a bowl of chips, beer in hand. He drops down onto the sofa with a happy sigh, setting the bowl onto the coffee table and patting the cushion for you to sit next to him, grabbing the plate you made up for him with his already-bitten cake.

The next hour flies by with the boys greedy in their helpings of cake, and you eventually wind up curled against Eddie’s side and holding a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel to his cheek after he mentioned how badly it was starting to sting.

He has your legs pulled over his, one hand curled around your thigh with the other gesturing animatedly at his side as he talks about the new setlist he wants his band to try the next time they book a gig, since The Hideout is currently closed down for some much needed renovations.

It used to make you a little uncomfortable, joining in on hangouts like this with Eddie where you were the only girl in the room. But despite the people he deals to, or the ones that have a sour taste in their mouth whenever they so much as glance in his direction, Eddie generally surrounds himself with good people.

He has a habit of latching onto anyone that shows him any ounce of kindness, and was eventually left with the very few that never once got sick of him.

His friends are some of the most respectful you’ve ever met, treating you as any other member of the group aside from the occasional wrestling, headlocks, and crude pranks that they play on each other.

You’re also lucky that Wayne has always been so easygoing with your relationship with his nephew, so long as you stuck to keeping things strictly PG when people were around: a rule he demanded after having caught the two of you fooling around on the sofa one night when he came home from work early with a cold, the very first year that you had started dating.

You’re happy in a room with the people that Eddie loves the most and he’s overjoyed that you’ve found your place so seamlessly within the group, even if you occasionally slip away to spend some much needed time with Robin or Nancy.

The frozen peas eventually get too warm to do much of anything, but Eddie insists that they helped anyway, lightly prodding at his bruised cheekbone to feel how cold his skin is. Wayne takes the bag from you when he heads back into the kitchen to start prepping dinner and Eddie grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a light kiss there.

He keeps his hand tucked into yours and turns to join in on the conversation about D&D, specifically, the new characters they were working on, started up by Dustin.

Without thinking about it, he tugs the graduation cap off of his head when it starts to feel too tight and your lip juts out in a small pout, catching his attention.

“Sorry, baby. But it’s gonna give me a headache soon,” he says, smoothing down his already flattened curls. “Here-” he twists to face you better and lifts the cap to set on your head, tucking it down over your hair.

“You’ve already seen me in this, Eds,” you mumble in resignation, not fighting him when his eyes brighten at the sight of you in his graduation cap.

“Yeah but you look hot in it.” He shrugs, nudging his finger against the tassel before dropping his hands onto your thighs.

Your cheeks feel hot at the compliment and you bite back your smile, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder.

Both of you briefly forget about the stiff piece of cardboard stitched into the top of the cap, the corner of it jabbing Eddie in the neck and making him yelp.

“Oh my god.” You whip your head up and he bursts into a laugh. “I’m so sorry!”

You press your hand to the red mark already forming on his pale skin, his shoulders shaking softly as he chuckles.

“I should’ve seen that one coming. You and Carver really know where my weak spots are,” he teasingly prods and your frown only deepens.

“Don’t compare me to Jason,” you mumble, his face falling at the joke he didn’t realize was a little too far. Your thumb brushes gingerly over the freshly marred skin near his collarbone and he lets out a quiet sigh at the delicate touch. “You know I didn’t do that on purpose-” you start to defend yourself but he grabs your hands to tangle them together with his.

“I know- hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what I was saying.” He feels awful at the genuine sadness now painted across your features. “Was super shitty of me to say.”

“I still hate what he did today,” you admit, eyes lifting to his bruise.

“I know,” he murmurs against the back of your hands, his eyes rounding out in apology. “Forgive me?” he softly pleads, kissing your knuckles and you give him a weak nod.

You absolutely hate the reminder of what that piece of shit did to him, but you know that his words slipped out without thought with no intentional malice behind them. He had also mentioned to you when he pulled out of the school’s parking lot that this wound up being the first time he ended up not caring so much about what Jason did - once you talked him down at least - knowing now that the chances of ever running into him and his friends again are truly slim to none.

“Thank you,” he says through a sigh and lifts his head. “Can I have a kiss?”

Leaning forward, he merely pulls back and the crease between your brows deepens until he taps against the side of his neck. The corners of your lips turn up and you pull his cap off of your head, tilting your chin forward to press one soft kiss to his skin.

He finds your lips with his own when you sit back, resting his hand on your jaw. He lingers on you for a few seconds before pulling back, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

“You kissed me better… did it work with you?” he wonders, dark eyes flickering back and forth between yours and you have to pull your lips to the side to hide your smile.

There is a part of you that would love nothing more than to tease him more than you’re currently capable of with the presence of his friends in the room, but you just shake your head. His brow arches in surprise.

“No? How many do you need?”

You shrug and his eyes narrow at you before he starts counting up from one. Shaking your head with every number he says, you deny him satisfaction only until he reaches five.

“Five it is,” he murmurs, creeping his fingers over your collarbone before he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you forward.

It’s hard to kiss with the smiles lifting onto both of your faces and you laugh when he accidentally kisses your teeth. The five consecutive pecks are fast and noisy each time your lips part from each other, and you pull your bottom one between your teeth after the fifth one as Eddie trails his kisses up and over your cheek until you giggle, pulling away from his grasp.

“Worked like a charm,” he hums, laughing softly into your hair and catching Dustin’s disgusted gaze over the top of your head.

“Are you guys done?” he asks and has to duck behind the coffee table when Eddie immediately chucks a throw pillow at his head.

“Fuck off!” Dustin yells, throwing it back and Eddie dodges it as it flies past his head.

“Watch it! I’m damaged goods, Henderson.”

“You’re damaged something alright,” Dustin mutters under his breath and you press your lips together, not surprised when Eddie’s eyes narrow and he carefully pushes your legs off of his lap.

“You wanna say that to my face like a man?” Eddie taunts, a menacing smirk on his face as Dustin’s eyes briefly widen but he hides it with a forced clearing of his throat, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“What? No- I didn’t say anything.” His voice is quiet and Eddie pats his hand against your thigh before standing up to tower over his friend. “I’m just uh… gonna go to the bathroom,” he continues, pushing himself to stand and rushing around the sofa to put it between him and Eddie.

“You’re dead,” Eddie barely gets out before Dustin is sprinting out of the trailer with a shriek, making Eddie roll his eyes, sitting back down with a satisfied smile.

“You’re not going after him?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Let him hide out there for ten minutes, he deserves it. I graduated today, he doesn’t get to mess with me.”

“You’re really going to keep milking that for the rest of the day, aren’t you?”

His brows raise high on his head and he nods, grabbing a handful of chips to shove into his mouth. You playfully roll your eyes as he sits back and hooks an arm around your shoulders before pressing a salty kiss to your cheek.

“Ugh,” you scoff lightly at the crumbs that fall from his lips and down your shirt. “You’re lucky I love you,” you grumble and he chuckles once he’s swallowed down his snack.

“Luckiest guy in the world,” he replies, gently knocking his head against yours and you smile, cuddling deeper into his side, knowing just how much he truly believes that.

You feel the same way, after all.

#writings #eddieslunchbox #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things

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sarastial · 5 months ago

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bus crush

ellie williams x reader

summary: your heavenly perfume catches ellie’s attention on the bus, and she can’t help but stare.

(university! ellie; implied femme reader)

a/n: i’ve been writing for years and this is my first published fic ever lol .. kinda nervy but i hope you enjoy it!

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Ellie Williams was drenched when she finally got on the bus that drove to and from the student housing complexes — drenched and shivering and exhausted. She had been on campus attending her back-to-back lectures all day (Tuesdays were her worst days) without so much as a thirty minute break between classes, and was beat by the time she got to the bus stop. It didn’t help that it was the peak of December, just before finals and winter break. That meant bone-rattling storms that almost shook the shitty old university buildings — which were definitely in need of some TLC, by the way — and Ellie’s overused umbrella getting fucked up with the rain and wind beating it down.

She closes said umbrella as she steps further into the bus, attempting to shake off as much water as she can from its tattered waterproof fabric before glancing up to scan for a seat.

Just my luck, Ellie thinks to herself with an internal sigh, finding every possible seat occupied by one of her equally drenched, shivering peers. She moves over to the side of the bus where there were already a couple of students standing and holding onto the cloth handles hanging from the roof of the vehicle. Ellie opts to squeeze the handrail instead, waiting for the bus to start moving. A few stragglers come in, and the bus finally departs from the station.

Someone moves to stand between Ellie and another student, cramping up the already tight space. Ellie’s about to scowl in the student’s direction when the scent of vanilla and cinnamon hits her nose.

Holy shit, she blinks, inhaling as deeply as she can without looking odd and/or slightly off-putting, Someone smells like a damn bakery.

She dares to spare a darting glance sideways at the person standing next to her … then a second, then a third. There was no doubt in Ellie’s mind that the girl who stood there, leaning into the condensation-riddled window of the bus and gazing down at the small, tattered paperback book in her hands with her old-school wired earbuds in, was the person who smelled so divine. She looked just like she smelled, nice and warm and pretty and yummy and —

Ellie inhales sharply, looking away and biting the inside of her cheek. Her hand comes up to tuck a loose, damp strand of her choppy, auburn hair behind her ear, gaze trained on the view outside through the foggy glass bus door that was right across from where she stood. The sight of the rain pouring down onto the dark, dampened streets of her little college town distracts her for a while. She waits for a few moments before stealing a longer glance at the girl and taking her in — from her long, perfectly manicured fingernails and mixture of dainty and chunky rings to the bootcut jeans she wore that somehow managed to hug her in all the right places.

Ellie feels a bit intimidated by how put-together the girl looks, by how different the two of them are appearance-wise. Her own nails are short and blunt from her nervous habit of chewing on them, and her clothes are baggy — wide legged jeans that are soaked at the bottom hems from walking through puddles all day and a zip-up hoodie with rolled up sleeves to show off her sick new tattoo. But Ellie really, really, really wanted to talk to the girl. She wanted to ask her about what she was reading, about what she was listening to, about what perfume she was wearing and about how the hell she managed to look so pretty after being out in a rainstorm.

She’s definitely straight, Ellie deflates slightly, pressing her teeth into her chapped bottom lip and furrowing her eyebrows, deep in thought.

Ellie doesn’t even realize that she’s still staring at the pretty, nice smelling girl until she’s met with a pair of eyes and a small, confused smile. She freezes up, enthralled by the new angle of the girl’s face.

She’s looking at you …

She’s looking at you! Look away, dumbass!

Ellie clears her throat and whips her head back to face the door of the bus in front of her, blinking fervently and internally cursing herself as she tries to play off her staring. It’s too late, for sure. She’s already made herself look like a creep, watching the girl while she minded her own business.

Damn it. Way to play it cool.. She squeezes the handrail a little tighter as the bus turns, trying her best not to sway in the girl’s direction as the vehicle lurches sideways. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself.

Ellie’s internally pouring over that slightest, faintest smile that the girl had given her when a voice breaks through her thoughts, soft and mellow.

“I like your tattoo.”

Ellie’s mind doesn’t even have the time to process the fact that it’s her, it’s the girl, and that she’s talking to Ellie and she’s complimenting Ellie and that Ellie should reply and say something and —

She turns her head a little too quickly, gaze flickering over to the girl at her side. Sure enough, she’s smiling again. She’s waiting for a response.

“Oh, uh,” Ellie spurts, tucking that damn strand that kept spilling back into her eyes back behind her ear, “Thanks. Just got it a few weeks ago.”

She takes in the girl’s silent nod of acknowledgment, heart pounding in her ear. They just look at each other for a moment. Then, the girl slowly turns back to her book, lowering her gaze and tentatively flipping a page. Her lashes fan out against her cheeks in a way that makes Ellie sure she’s some goddess in disguise sent down to earth to bait a poor mortal like herself.

“I like your smell,” Ellie blurts before her mind catches up, watching as the girl turns back towards her with a small, amused smile forming on her face. “I mean, I like the way you smell. Like, your perfume. It’s nice.”

Ellie winces internally, wanting more than anything to kick open the emergency exit and run back to her dorm and crawl under her covers and die. But the girl laughs — she laughs — and Ellie’s scuffed up boots stay planted firmly on the floor, so she doesn’t move.

“Thank you,” the girl replies, warm gaze sweeping over Ellie’s burning, freckled face. It’s obvious that her laugh wasn’t meant to be a mean one.

Ellie feels heat gather in her face and turns to look at the handrail she’s squeezing, studying it as if it were the most interesting thing on the bus. But it wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t, not with that pretty girl standing so close to her. But she can’t find it in herself to say anything else, so she just keeps staring at the handrail until the bus comes to a screeching halt.

It’s her stop.

Ellie hesitates for a fleeting moment, wanting more than anything to ask for her name or something. Instead, she lets go of the handrail and picks up her umbrella, sparing one last look at the girl — who’s too caught up in her novel to notice — before stepping off the bus into the biting wind and pouring rain.

Unbeknownst to her, the girl peeks up from her book with a small, giddy smile to watch her go just as the bus doors close.

#ellie williams #ellie #tlou #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you

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echoes-of-hee · 7 months ago

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— Off My Face LHS

PAIRING ; crush!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE ; high school romance, angst, fluff!

TAGLIST ; @honeyybbuubblleess @heeverseblog @aubaee @hveanlyanqelic @rayofsunshineeee @honeychocos @skzenhalove

Wc ; 8.5k+

Warning(s) ; Mild language and emotional themes, including heartbreak and unrequited love.

SYNOPSIS ; You never thought sitting next to Lee Heeseung, the school’s golden boy, would change your world. The moment your teacher paired you with him for the year, a mix of excitement and nerves hit you—who wouldn’t feel that way sitting next to the most popular guy in school? Heeseung was the definition of charming: good looks, top of the class, and basically every girl's heartthrob. But you? You never really saw yourself falling for him—love just wasn’t your thing, or so you thought.

That changed real quick.

Notes. This story is based on a real experience I went through. But don’t worry though, unlike mine, this one will have a happy ending. (AHH IT'S FINALLY HERE, I COULDN'T HELP BUT TO POST IT EARLIER 😭.. ANYWAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BAMBI BOY!! HE'S GROWN SO MUCH 🥹, and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do <3

The sun streamed through the window, casting a soft golden light into the room, as laughter and chatter filled the air. The midterm exams had just ended, and all the students, still buzzing with energy, were busy talking about the exam answers. You were in the middle of chatting with your friends when the classroom door swung open, and the teacher walked in.

Immediately, the class president stood up, prompting the rest of the students to follow with a chorus of greetings. The teacher gave a brief nod, signaling for everyone to sit down, and the room fell into a hushed silence. She glanced around, her eyes settling on the group of eager faces.

"I would like to make new seat arrangements based on your grades," she began, her voice firm but calm. "And before any of you start, I'm not accepting any complaints or 'no's' from you. This is final."

A collective groan rippled through the class. You exchanged glances with your friends, rolling your eyes along with them as the usual grumbling started. "This is so unfair," someone whispered behind you. Another student muttered, "I was finally sitting next to my best friend."

The teacher started calling out names based on the new seating chart. One by one, your classmates were assigned their new spots. When it was your friend's turn, you were practically begging, whispering “Nooo,” while fake crying dramatically as she laughed along with you, both dreading the separation.

Then, it was finally your turn.

"Y/N," the teacher said, scanning her list, "you'll be sitting next to... Lee Heeseung."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your mind went blank for a second. Lee Heeseung? Of all people? You glanced over at him, sitting casually in his seat, completely unbothered. Meanwhile, your friend shot you a wide-eyed look, biting back a grin as if this were some huge inside joke.

You tried to play it cool, but inside, your stomach was doing flips. Heeseung was the guy everyone liked—smart, good-looking, and effortlessly charming. You, on the other hand, were just… you. Sitting next to him was going to be interesting, to say the least.

As students began moving to their new seats, you grabbed your stuff, your nerves creeping in. "Good luck," your friend whispered with a teasing smirk, giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, forcing a smile. "Thanks, I'll need it."

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to your new seat next to Heeseung. He looked up as you approached, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Looks like we’re seatmates," he said casually, shifting to make room for you.

"Yeah, lucky me," you mumbled, trying not to sound too awkward as you sat down. You could feel the curious glances from your classmates, and your friend was definitely still staring from across the room.

This was going to be an interesting year.

The lesson started, and the awkward tension between you and Heeseung was palpable. You could feel it hanging in the air like an invisible wall, both of you too polite to acknowledge it. As usual, the teacher began calling out names to read from the textbook, and you silently prayed yours wouldn’t be next. The last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself in front of him.

Your heart raced as the teacher continued down the list, getting closer and closer. You could feel the nervousness creeping in, and the fact that Heeseung was sitting right next to you only made it worse. What if you stuttered? What if you sounded dumb? What if Heeseung thought you were weird or—

“Y/N!” the teacher’s voice cut through your anxious thoughts.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, eyes widening in panic. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you fumbled to find the right page, the sound of your heartbeat almost deafening. You could feel Heeseung glance at you, probably sensing your nerves.

Taking a shaky breath, you started reading, praying your voice wouldn’t betray you.

Luckily, you didn’t stumble over the words, but your voice was practically shaking as you read aloud. Each sentence felt like it dragged on forever, and you were hyper-aware of every small mistake you thought you made. You could feel your face getting warmer, but you powered through, forcing yourself to stay calm.

When you finally finished, the teacher nodded and moved on to the next student. Relief washed over you, but not before you snuck a quick glance at Heeseung. He wasn’t laughing or smirking like you feared—he was just listening, completely unfazed.

"Not bad," he whispered quietly enough so only you could hear, a small smile playing on his lips.

You blinked, surprised. "Uh, thanks," you mumbled back, feeling your face heat up even more. Was that… a compliment?

As the lesson continued, you couldn’t help but feel slightly more relaxed. Maybe sitting next to Heeseung wasn’t going to be as terrifying as you thought.

The bell rang, signaling the start of recess, and the classroom immediately buzzed with movement. Everyone was quick to get up from their seats, excited to escape the lesson and catch up with their friends. You didn’t even spare a glance at Heeseung as you hurried out of the room, spotting your friends waiting for you just outside.

You all made your way to your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria, chatting and laughing as you settled in. It was your routine—your little spot, away from the chaos of the rest of the school.

"Oh my god," one of your friends groaned, breaking the flow of conversation. "Why does it have to be a boy sitting next to me? I hate this so much!"

"For real!" another friend chimed in, nodding along. "But I’m lucky. My seatmate’s someone I actually know, so I’m good."

Then, your friend turned to you, a teasing smirk already forming on her face. "What about you, Y/N? How do you feel about your new seatmate?"

You felt all eyes on you, and you immediately knew they were about to make this a big deal. With a small shrug, you tried to play it cool. "It’s… fine, I guess?"

But your friend wasn’t letting you off that easily. "C’mon," she leaned in, her grin widening. "You’re sitting next to Lee Heeseung. You can’t tell me that’s just ‘fine.’ What’s it like being next to Mr. Perfect?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. "It’s not that deep," you said, but deep down, you knew this was only the beginning of their teasing.

Your friend wasn’t buying it, and the teasing only intensified. “Not that deep?” she repeated with a laugh, giving you a playful nudge. “Girl, please. You’ve got front-row seats to the Lee Heeseung every single day.”

Another one of your friends joined in, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Yeah, don’t act like you don’t notice the way the girls practically swoon over him. He’s like the school’s It boy.”

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to escape this. “Okay, yeah, he’s popular and all, but it’s not like I’m gonna suddenly fall for him just because we’re seatmates.”

Your friends exchanged knowing glances, and you could tell they were holding back smirks. “Sure, sure,” one of them said, drawing out the words. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before you could protest, another one added, “Just don’t fall too hard when he starts helping you with math or something. I can already picture the movie moment where he leans over your desk, all close and—”

You covered your face, groaning. “Can we not do this?”

But they were having too much fun now. “We’re just looking out for you,” your friend teased. “You know, so when the romance sparks start flying, you’re not totally caught off guard.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, their teasing left a slight flutter in your chest. Sure, Heeseung was charming and popular, but that didn’t mean anything would actually happen between you two… right?

Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The following weeks felt like a blur, almost like you were floating through a dream. You and Heeseung were still awkward around each other, but somehow, he always found a way to make things less tense. He’d casually help you out during class or lean over to ask for answers to questions he didn’t know, and you’d try to keep your cool, even though your heart raced every time.

Each time he spoke to you, you felt your nerves spike. Eye contact? That was a whole other challenge. Sure, you managed to look him in the eye once or twice, but it was always for a brief moment before you quickly glanced away, pretending to be focused on something else.

You played it cool, or at least you hoped you did. On the outside, you kept your composure, nodding along and responding like it was no big deal. But inside, your thoughts were a whirlwind. How was he so effortlessly charming, and why was it so hard for you to act normal around him?

Heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed at all. He would flash his easy-going smile whenever he helped you, and if he noticed your awkwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead, he’d just laugh lightly and say something like, "Don't worry, I get it," making you wonder if he somehow knew you were struggling to keep it together.

Despite the awkwardness, there was something about those moments that made you look forward to seeing him each day. But you weren’t about to let yourself get carried away—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was science class, and you found yourself once again partnered with Heeseung, this time in a group of five. The group quickly arranged the tasks, deciding who would handle each part of the experiment. You were assigned the responsibility of writing the experimental notes—the detailed steps and observations that had to be recorded.

While the others were busy with the actual hands-on part of the experiment, you sat quietly, jotting down what you could. The room was filled with the sounds of bubbling chemicals, clinking glassware, and quiet murmurs from other groups. You were focused on your writing when you heard someone approach.

"Y/n?" It was Heeseung’s voice.

You glanced up, heart skipping slightly. "Yeah?" you responded, trying to sound casual.

Heeseung leaned over slightly, pointing at the notes. "The next step for the experiment involves using the eraser. It’s to demonstrate static charge. You know, like in the second part of the list.”

You paused, staring at him for a moment, feeling a wave of confusion wash over you. Wait, what? You glanced down at your notes, feeling a bit lost. How did you miss that? Your eyes flickered with nervousness, and you looked back up at him, biting your lip. "Uh... could you repeat that again?"

You felt a pang of embarrassment, wondering how such a simple thing slipped past you. Before you could spiral into overthinking, Heeseung chuckled lightly, his expression softening. He leaned in just slightly closer and started explaining again, this time slower and more patiently.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said calmly, as if sensing your nerves. “We just need to use the eraser to create static for the next part of the experiment. It’s basically to show how the charge affects the materials. Simple stuff.”

You blinked, finally grasping what he was saying. "Ahh, okay, I get it now," you said, nodding along, relieved that he explained it in such a kind way without making you feel dumb.

Heeseung gave you a reassuring smile before going back to the group. For a brief moment, you let out a breath, thankful that he didn’t make a big deal out of it.

You watched as Heeseung returned to the group, his presence effortlessly drawing everyone's attention. It amazed you how naturally he navigated through the chaos of the experiment, guiding the others and laughing at the little mishaps along the way. You couldn’t help but admire how he managed to make even the most mundane tasks seem fun.

With newfound focus, you returned to your notes, writing down the steps as clearly as you could. The warmth from Heeseung’s smile lingered in your mind, and you felt a little more confident. Maybe this partnership wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As the experiment continued, you occasionally glanced at Heeseung. He was genuinely engaged, explaining concepts to his teammates while effortlessly keeping the atmosphere light. You found yourself smiling at how he could turn the stress of science class into something enjoyable.

“Y/N, can you hand me that beaker?” one of your group members called out, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Sure!” you replied, grabbing the beaker and passing it over. But as you did, you caught Heeseung’s eye again. He gave you a small thumbs-up, as if acknowledging your contribution. Your heart fluttered, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your notes.

As the class went on, Heeseung began to engage with you more. “Hey, what’s the next step?” he asked, leaning over slightly to peek at your notes.

You pointed to the relevant section, trying to sound confident. “We just need to record the results from the static charge experiment. Then we’ll analyze the data.”

He nodded, and as he leaned in closer, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re really good at this, you know,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You felt a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Thanks, but I’m just following the instructions,” you replied, trying to brush it off.

Heeseung shrugged, his gaze steady. “Still, it takes a lot to keep everything organized like this. You’re doing great.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you found yourself unable to respond immediately. Instead, you just nodded, a smile creeping onto your face despite your attempts to play it cool.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, you felt a sense of reluctance wash over you. You packed your things, glancing at Heeseung one last time as he gathered his own materials. He caught your eye and smiled again, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart race.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he said, his voice light.

“Yeah, see you,” you replied, trying to sound casual, even as you walked out of the classroom feeling giddy. Maybe, just maybe, this partnership was turning into something more than you ever expected.

It was PE time, and you and your friends lounged in the garden, talking and laughing like typical teenagers. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground, creating a perfect backdrop for your carefree moments together. Yet, despite the joy around you, your thoughts kept drifting back to Heeseung. Each day, it felt like you were falling deeper for him, and the realization was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t really a match for you. You and Heeseung felt like the skies and the ground—so different in every way. He was the charming, good-looking star everyone adored, while you were just... well, average. You were pretty enough, sure, but he was on a whole different level. It felt hopeless to even think about the possibility of something between you.

Just as you were lost in these thoughts, your friend interrupted you. "baby girl, you good?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, a little weirded out by the sudden nickname. “Yeah, I’m good,” you replied, trying to brush off your inner turmoil.

But your friend wasn’t convinced. She stared at you, a knowing look in her eyes that made you squirm. “Oh yeah? You sure it wasn’t about Heeseung you were thinking about?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know...?”

She laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Girl, please. It’s written all over your face! You’re practically glowing at the mention of his name. You’re like a total lovesick puppy.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Okay, okay! Maybe I was thinking about him. But it’s not like it matters, He’s out of my league..”

Your friend waved her hands dismissively. “Stop with that nonsense! You never know what could happen. Besides, you guys are paired up for the whole year. That’s practically fate!”

“Fate?” you echoed, trying to suppress a laugh. “That sounds way too dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” she declared, striking a pose that made you giggle. “But seriously, you need to at least admit you have a crush on him.”

You shook your head, though you couldn’t suppress the smile forming on your lips. “Fine, maybe I have a little crush. But that doesn’t change anything. He’s still Heeseung, and I’m still… well, me.”

Your friend rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. “Stop doubting yourself y/n, you’re amazing just the way you are. Just remember, confidence is key. If you like him, you should just go for it!”

You couldn’t help but think about what she said. Maybe there was a chance, however slim, that things could change. With that thought lingering in your mind, you looked up to see Heeseung walking across the field, laughing with his friends. Your heart raced, and you quickly turned away, trying to mask the flutter of excitement.

Your friend nudged you, her voice low and teasing. “Look! There he is. Are you going to keep pretending you don’t like him huh?”

You let out a laugh, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. “Shut up! Just let me think for a second.”

But as you watched him from a distance, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for you after all.

One week later, your teacher announced that you guys would be having a practice speaking test.

The day finally came, and it was your group’s turn for the test. You had spent the previous night practicing in front of the mirror, trying to perfect your pronunciation, gestures, and confidence. You told yourself over and over that everything would be fine, that you’d get through this without any issues. You were sure of it. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

As the test began, you watched Heeseung go first, his delivery smooth and effortless. He spoke with such ease, barely pausing for breath, his voice calm and composed. Every word was clear, and you couldn’t help but admire how flawless he was under pressure. Of course, Heeseung would ace this, like he did with everything else.

When he finished, the teacher nodded in approval, and your heart sank. Now it was your turn.

You took a deep breath and stood up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Just relax, you got this, you thought, trying to calm your racing heart. But the moment you opened your mouth to speak, your mind went blank.

For a split second, you stood there frozen, staring at the paper in front of you. No, no, no. Not now, you panicked internally. You had practiced this a hundred times last night, and now the words seemed to have disappeared completely.

Glancing over at Heeseung, you saw him looking at you with a reassuring smile, as if silently telling you that you could do this. His confidence somehow made you feel even more nervous. What if you failed? What if he thought you were a complete mess?

You cleared your throat and started speaking, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying your nerves. You tried to push through, but the pressure was overwhelming. Halfway through, you stumbled over your words, losing your train of thought completely.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you could feel your palms getting sweaty. The silence in the room was deafening, and you desperately wished you could disappear. But then, you heard a soft whisper next to you.

“Talk about the part where…” Heeseung whispered quietly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. His words nudged you in the right direction, reminding you of the next point you needed to make. You picked up where you left off, feeling a bit more grounded thanks to his subtle help.

You managed to finish your part, though not as smoothly as you had hoped, but it was done. The teacher gave a nod of approval, and you finally sat back down, letting out a sigh of relief.

Heeseung glanced at you with a knowing smile, and you mouthed a quick “thank you” to him. He just winked, his expression relaxed and calm, as if what he did was no big deal.

And maybe to him it wasn’t, but to you, it meant everything.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and you gathered your things, still feeling the rush of relief from having survived the speaking test. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since you sat back down. Heeseung’s small act of kindness played over and over in your head, and you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered.

As you were putting your books into your bag, Heeseung casually leaned over. "You did fine, you know?" he said with a small smile, his voice gentle.

You blinked, looking up at him. "I don’t know about that… but thanks. I almost messed it up completely."

He shrugged, still smiling. "Everyone gets nervous. Besides, you recovered. That’s what matters."

You felt your face heat up again, the nerves from earlier creeping back in but for a different reason. There was something about the way he spoke so casually to you, like it was the easiest thing in the world, that made you feel... seen. And not in a bad way, but in a way that made you want to hide and smile at the same time.

"Thanks," you said again, your voice softer this time.

He nodded, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said before walking out of the classroom, his steps unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

You stood there for a moment, watching him leave, the small interaction replaying in your mind. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was enough to leave you standing there, your heart doing flips.

As you met up with your friends in the hallway, they immediately bombarded you with questions. "How was the test? Did you survive?" one of them asked, clearly joking but knowing full well how nervous you’d been.

You laughed, though it was a little shaky. "Barely. I messed up, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be."

Your friend smirked, her eyes narrowing playfully. "And how was Heeseung? You guys were partnered up again, right?"

At the mention of his name, your heart did a weird little jump. "Yeah, he was fine. Helped me out a bit, actually," you admitted, trying to keep your voice nonchalant.

Your friends exchanged looks, their smirks growing wider. "Oh, really? He helped you out? How sweet," they teased, clearly enjoying the flustered look on your face.

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "It wasn’t a big deal."

But deep down, you knew it was a big deal to you. Every small moment with Heeseung felt significant, like they were adding up to something bigger, something you weren’t quite ready to admit.

As you walked through the hallways with your friends, laughing and joking like you always did, you couldn’t help but think back to the way Heeseung had smiled at you after the test. Maybe it was nothing, just him being nice, but maybe—just maybe—it was something more.

And that thought stayed with you, lingering in the back of your mind long after the school day ended.

Weeks had passed, turning into months, and the feelings you had tried so hard to ignore began to grow stronger. You had fallen for Heeseung. It was impossible not to—the way he always approached you with that warm, easy smile, how he helped you with subjects you struggled with, and those fleeting glances he’d give you whenever you bumped into each other in the halls. You started to believe that maybe—just maybe—he was interested in you, too.

You found yourself talking about him with your friends every day, the smallest interactions suddenly feeling like monumental moments. You would gush over the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to make everything around him brighter. Your friends teased you, calling it a classic high school crush, but to you, it felt like something more. Something real.

But one day, everything came crashing down.

You were absent from school on Monday, feeling under the weather, but by Tuesday, you were back. As usual, you arrived late, sneaking into class and slipping into your seat quietly. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for him like you always did. When you found him, he was sitting with his friends, talking and laughing as usual. For a brief moment, your heart warmed at the sight, the same butterflies fluttering inside you.

But then, you saw her.

Aera, one of your classmates, walked into the classroom, and you noticed how Heeseung’s friends immediately nudged him, teasing smiles on their faces as she passed by them. Heeseung’s face lit up, his eyes following her for a second too long. It was subtle, but you caught it.

That pang in your chest hit you like a ton of bricks.

You stared, frozen in your seat, watching as the scene unfolded in front of you. Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair as his friends continued to nudge him, clearly teasing him about Aera. You didn’t need to hear what they were saying to know what it was about.

It was so obvious.

The way his friends teased him when she walked by, the way Heeseung didn’t deny it but instead just laughed along—it all made sense now. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. The occasional glances, the small smiles, the casual conversations… they weren’t special, at least not the way you thought they were. They were just… normal.

You felt your stomach twist, a wave of nausea washing over you as the truth settled in. He wasn’t interested in you. He was interested in her.

For the rest of the day, that pang in your chest refused to go away. You tried to focus on class, on anything but him, but it was impossible. Every time you glanced in his direction, you saw him laughing with his friends, glancing at Aera when he thought no one was looking.

And just like that, the small world you had built in your head—where maybe Heeseung liked you back—came crashing down.

You plopped onto your bed, your heart aching as tears began to well up in your eyes. The overwhelming emotions you’d been bottling up finally spilled over. “Why does this hurt so much?” you sobbed, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. Each sob seemed to echo the ache deep in your chest, and you couldn’t stop the flood of tears that followed.

You tilted your head to the side, staring blankly at the wall as the pieces fell into place. So this is why… you thought bitterly. This is why Heeseung always teased Aera, why he would borrow her school supplies when he could’ve easily asked you. You replayed the small moments in your head, moments where you thought he was being distant, but now you realized it wasn’t distance—it was focus. Focus on her, not you.

Every little thing made sense now, and with that realization came an even deeper sense of pain. He wasn’t shy around you; he simply didn’t feel anything special toward you. He wasn’t nervous when you caught him glancing your way; he was probably looking past you to catch a glimpse of her.

You chuckled bitterly, the sound hollow and broken. “How pathetic…” you whispered, wiping away another tear. You had been so naive, thinking that he was interested in you. You convinced yourself that his little acts of kindness meant more than they did. The way he helped you during the speaking test, the fleeting eye contact, the small smiles—they were nothing but common decency.

Your tears blurred your vision as you thought back to every moment you’d replayed in your head over the past months, building it up into something that it never was. You were just a hopeless romantic, falling for someone who was never meant to fall for you.

The next day, you barely dragged yourself out of bed. The thought of going to school, facing Heeseung and Aera, felt unbearable. You were emotionally drained from staying up all night, crying over him—how stupid it seemed in hindsight. But feelings couldn’t be forced, and your heart ached in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

When you finally made it to school, you kept your head down, blending into the background as much as possible. The day went by in a blur, each lesson blending into the next. Every time the teacher left the classroom, you could hear Heeseung’s friends snickering and teasing him whenever Aera was nearby. It stung, and only God knew how much you wanted to disappear every time they talked. The painful reality was right in front of you, and there was no escaping it.

You weren’t sure how you managed to hold it together. You felt like a mess, like you were barely keeping it together. And it must have shown, because at some point, Heeseung glanced at you, concern flickering across his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

Is it that obvious? you thought. You didn’t trust yourself to speak much, so you just nodded, not even sparing him a glance. You couldn’t.

Math class rolled around, and as usual, you were struggling. Numbers and formulas swam before your tired eyes, but today, you didn’t even consider asking for Heeseung’s help like you usually did. There was no way you could face him, not after everything. Instead, you kept your head down, trying to make sense of the problem in front of you, even though it felt like trying to read a foreign language.

"You need help with that?" His voice broke through the silence, and for a split second, your heart twinged at the familiarity of it.

But you shook your head quickly, keeping your eyes glued to the textbook. "No, I can manage," you muttered, even though you knew you couldn’t.

There was a pause, and you could feel him watching you. "Alright," he said, sounding slightly hesitant, "just tell me if you need help. I'm always here."

You didn't respond. You didn’t have the energy to. All you could do was nod, your eyes still fixed on the page in front of you. His words echoed in your head—I'm always here—but they felt hollow now. It was like the safety net you once felt around him had disappeared, replaced by the reality that his attention was somewhere else, on someone else.

You bit your lip, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You were going to get through this. You had to. But right now, everything still hurt.

The rest of the day dragged on painfully. You went through the motions—attending classes, taking notes, and exchanging small talk with your friends—but your mind was elsewhere, fixated on the ache in your chest. Every time Heeseung laughed with his friends or shared a casual smile with Aera, it felt like a fresh stab to your heart.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, you were more than ready to leave. You packed your things quickly, avoiding any lingering glances in Heeseung’s direction. Your friends noticed your quieter-than-usual demeanor, but they didn’t press you too much. You gave them a half-hearted smile and told them you were just tired.

As you walked home, the familiar streets blurred in your peripheral vision. The conversations and laughter from your classmates echoed in your mind, but you felt distant from it all. You replayed Heeseung’s words in math class, the way he had offered to help like he always did. It was almost painful how effortlessly kind he was, even when you were trying to distance yourself.

By the time you reached your house, the emotional exhaustion had fully set in. You threw your bag onto the floor, kicked off your shoes, and collapsed onto your bed once more. The quiet of your room wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, but it didn’t erase the feelings bubbling just beneath the surface.

You stared at the ceiling, thoughts spinning. Why did I have to fall for him? you wondered for what felt like the hundredth time. Heeseung was everything you could’ve asked for in a person—kind, smart, charming. But the reality was, you were just a background character in his story. No matter how much you wished it were different, Aera was the one who held his attention.

You rolled onto your side, hugging your pillow tightly as a fresh wave of sadness washed over you. It wasn’t fair, but you knew life wasn’t about fairness. You’d get over this, eventually, but right now, it just hurt.

Before you could sink further into your thoughts, your phone buzzed beside you. You reached over to check it, blinking at the screen. It was a message from one of your friends.

Bestiee<3: “Are you okay? You seemed kinda off today. Let’s hang out this weekend, okay? We can binge some shows and forget about school for a while. 🫶”

You smiled weakly at the text, appreciating the gesture. Maybe you did need a break, a chance to step away from everything and focus on yourself for a bit.

You: “Yeah, sounds good. Thanks for checking in.”

You put your phone down and sighed. Maybe hanging out with your friends could help distract you from the mess of feelings swirling inside. Maybe you just needed time, a reminder that your world wasn’t falling apart—at least not completely.

But for now, you let the quiet fill the room again, allowing yourself to feel whatever it was you needed to feel. Tomorrow was another day and maybe, it would hurt a little less.

You had fun hanging out with your friends over the week, trying to distract yourself from the lingering hurt in your heart. After all, you were just a human with feelings, and it was hard to shake off the emotional weight that Heeseung’s unexpected interest in Aera had brought.

As Heeseung's birthday approached, he invited you to his party. You wavered, unsure if you should go, especially since Aera would likely be there. But in the end, you forced yourself to attend, not wanting to let your own insecurities ruin a chance to celebrate someone you cared about.

You decided to buy him a beanie—something he had once casually mentioned loving during a conversation.

“What’s your favorite stuff?” you had asked, genuinely curious.

“Why do you ask?” He had chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Just curious,” you replied, keeping it light.

“Hmmm, I like stuff like beanies?” he said with a smile.

“A beanie lover, I see?” you teased back.

“You could say that,” he laughed, and in that moment, you felt a warmth inside, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he noticed you too.

The day of the party arrived, and you found yourself standing in front of his house, heart racing. His maid greeted you at the door, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Mr. Lee is currently with his friends. You can go around the house and have fun,” she said.

“Okay, thank you!” you replied, trying to sound upbeat while gripping the gift a little tighter.

Just then, someone touched your shoulder, making you jump slightly. You turned to see one of Heeseung's friends, a friendly smile on his face.

“Hey, y/n, right?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, and… you are?” you replied, forcing a smile that felt a little shaky.

“I’m Jake, Heeseung’s friend. C’mon, let’s go upstairs. Heeseung and the others are there too.”

“Alright!” you nodded, following him as you tried to suppress your nerves.

As you both ascended the staircase, the sound of laughter and chatter grew louder. Jake opened the door, revealing Heeseung surrounded by his friends, and—your stomach dropped—Aera was there too.

You gulped, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you as you gripped the gift tighter, your heart racing.

“Heeseung!” Jake called, and your gaze met Heeseung’s.

His face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his features. “Y/n! You made it!”

“Hey,” you said, forcing a smile, though your heart felt heavy.

“Come in! We’re just about to start the games!” he said, motioning for you to enter.

You stepped inside, trying to shake off the nerves. The atmosphere was lively, filled with excitement and laughter, but as you caught sight of Aera leaning closer to Heeseung, the pang in your heart returned. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to enjoy the night, even if it was bittersweet.

You found yourself sitting on the couch, watching the group play games, trying to force a smile as laughter filled the room. But each joyful sound felt like a dagger in your heart. Your gaze drifted to Heeseung, who was seated next to Aera. The sight of them together was almost unbearable. They leaned into each other, sharing jokes and secrets that felt intimate.

Heeseung leaned closer to Aera, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh—a sound so light and carefree, it sent a pang of longing through you. As she playfully touched his arm, you noticed a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. That was the final straw. You had thought you could handle this, that you had moved on at least a little, but it was clear you hadn’t.

With a heavy heart, you got up from the couch, the laughter around you fading into a dull hum. You left his gift on the table, a beanie wrapped neatly in colorful paper, and turned to leave.

“Y/N?” you heard Heeseung call out, but the sound felt distant as you stepped out of the room. You staggered down the stairs, your heart racing, desperate to escape the painful scene.

Once outside, you reached for your phone, your fingers shaking as you called an Uber. As you waited, you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined to hold it together.

The car pulled up, and you quickly climbed in, giving the driver your address in a barely audible whisper. As the car drove away, you stared out the window, watching the lights of the city blur together. The ache in your chest was unbearable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever really be able to move on from Heeseung.

You were absent for the whole week, locking yourself in your room and feeling like you were rotting away. Your parents were worried, knocking on your door to encourage you to eat breakfast and dinner, but you kept silent, too engulfed in your own thoughts to respond. You ignored all your friends' calls and messages, including Heeseung's. His voice echoed in your mind—concerned, maybe even a little confused—but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

After days of isolation, you finally decided to return to school. You knew this wasn’t right; losing yourself over a boy wasn’t okay. You shouldn’t let your feelings for Heeseung consume you like this. So, with a heavy heart and a resolve to reclaim your life, you reluctantly headed to school.

The moment you stepped inside, you could feel Heeseung's gaze on you. Your heart raced as you glanced his way, and for a moment, everything felt overwhelming again. He furrowed his brows in concern, looking back at you with an intensity that made you want to look away.

You had told your teacher that you wanted to change seats because you couldn’t focus being so close to him. You had begged her over and over until she finally relented, and now you were grateful for that distance.

You settled into your new seat, avoiding his eyes as you rested your head on your arms, trying to shield yourself from the onslaught of emotions. The classroom felt different, quieter somehow, as if the air had thickened with the unspoken tension between you. Despite the chatter of your classmates, all you could think about was how much you missed the comfort of Heeseung's presence—yet how painful it had become to be near him.

As the lesson began, you could feel Heeseung's eyes occasionally flickering towards you, a subtle reminder that he was still there, still worried. But you kept your gaze fixed on the teacher, focusing on the words spilling from her mouth, willing yourself to forget everything else, if only for a moment.

The lesson droned on, but you struggled to concentrate. Your mind kept wandering back to Heeseung—the way he smiled, the sound of his laughter, and the warmth of his presence. Each fleeting memory felt like a double-edged sword, cutting deeper into your resolve to move on.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students started to gather their things, but you remained still, unwilling to face the inevitable rush of conversations and glances. You heard Heeseung’s voice, low and tentative, cutting through the chatter.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his tone filled with concern. You could feel his eyes on you, and the warmth of his gaze was both comforting and painful.

You took a deep breath, pretending to rummage through your backpack as if you hadn’t heard him. You didn’t want to face him—not yet. But as you stood up to leave, you felt a presence beside you. It was Heeseung, standing a mere foot away, his expression serious.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, heart racing. Part of you wanted to say yes, to hear what he had to say, but another part feared that it would only lead to more heartache.

“Y/N, please,” he pressed, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of acknowledgment. You finally met his gaze and saw the worry etched on his face.

“Fine.” you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. You followed him out of the classroom and into the hallway, where the noise of students chatting and laughing surrounded you like a whirlwind.

He led you to a quieter corner, away from prying eyes. The air felt thick with tension as you both stood there, unsure of how to start.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Heeseung said, breaking the silence. “You disappeared for a week. I tried to reach you, but… you didn’t answer.”

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I just needed some time to myself.”

“Is it about Aera?”

Your eyes flickered with a mix of shock and frustration. “No.”

Heeseung stepped closer, concern deepening in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s not what you think. Aera and I… we’re just friends. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“Look, Heeseung, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just leave me alone. Please.”

His expression shifted, confusion and hurt crossing his features. “Y/N, I—”

“I said I need space!” you interrupted, your voice sharper than intended.

Heeseung paused, taking a step back as if your words had struck him. “Okay, I get it. Just… know that I care about you.”

With that, he turned away, leaving you in the quiet corner, your heart racing from the confrontation. You felt a mix of anger and sadness wash over you, but deep down, you knew that you needed to process your feelings on your own.

As you walked away, you could still feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you, but you steeled yourself, determined to navigate through this turmoil alone, at least for now.

A month later, graduation was approaching, and you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung since that fateful day. You did your best to ignore him, avoiding him at all costs. But if you were honest with yourself, you missed his presence. The vibrant energy he brought into your life felt absent, leaving a void that you couldn’t quite fill.

You had blocked him on all social media, determined to cut ties and free yourself from any concern about him. Yet, as days passed, you noticed something strange: Heeseung and Aera were no longer seen together. You wondered what had happened between them but quickly brushed it off as not being your problem. They were probably just busy or having private conversations.

As graduation day approached, your class decided to throw a party to celebrate. You wore a simple yet elegant dress that made you feel confident and beautiful. The fabric flowed with each movement, accentuating your figure while remaining understated. Laughter filled the room as you and your friends joked around, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You decided to excuse yourself, needing some fresh air away from the noise.

Stepping onto the balcony, you took a deep breath, letting the cool night air wash over you. The stars twinkled brightly above, reminding you of countless moments spent with Heeseung, those late-night conversations filled with dreams and laughter. You gazed up at the endless sky, pondering what the future held—what your job would be and who your soulmate might turn out to be.

Your moment of tranquility was suddenly disrupted when the door swung open, and someone stepped outside. You turned to see who it was, and your breath caught in your throat. It was Heeseung, the very person you had been avoiding for months.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with uncertainty.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to react. “What are you doing here, Heeseung?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tremor betrayed your nerves.

He stepped closer, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, a nervous habit you had come to recognize. “I’ve been thinking a lot since we last talked. I wanted to talk to you… I-i need to get something off my chest.”

You folded your arms, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I liked Aera at one point. Sure she was fun, and I thought I could see a future with her. But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized… she wasn’t the one I truly wanted.”

Your heart raced, unsure where this was going. You could feel the tension in the air, thick with unspoken words.

He continued, glancing down as if searching for courage. “I thought maybe it was just a crush, but then I realized I was just trying to fill a void. It was you I missed, Y/N. Your laughter, your kindness, the way you make everything feel brighter. You’ve been the one on my mind all along, and it’s time I finally admit it.”

He shifted on his feet, his cheeks slightly flushed as he caught your gaze. The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. “I fell in love with you, Y/N. I didn’t understand it at first, but now I can’t ignore it anymore. I’ve realized that you’re the one I’ve been longing for.”

You stood there, taken aback by his confession. The mix of feelings you had buried came rushing back, a wave of confusion, hope, and the remnants of your heartache.

“I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that,” he added, taking a small step forward, his gaze locking onto yours. “You mean more to me than I realized. I just… I really love you, Y/N.”

You took a breath, feeling the weight of his words settle in your heart. Memories flooded your mind: the way he made you laugh, how he always knew what to say to brighten your day, and the comfort of his presence. You remembered the late-night study sessions, the deep conversations about dreams and fears, and how easy it was to be around him.

“Honestly, Heeseung,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “I’ve missed you too. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I tried to push you out of my mind, but it just didn’t work. I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything.”

Heeseung’s expression softened, relief washing over his face. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “I thought I could just move on, but it hasn’t been the same without you. I guess… I was scared.”

Heeseung took another step closer, hope shining in his gaze. “Scared of what?”

“Scared that I’d let myself feel something for you again, and then it would hurt even more if it didn’t work out,” you confessed, vulnerability pouring from you.

Heeseung’s gaze deepened as he listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and longing. “I get it. I’ve felt the same way. But I’m here now, and I want to try. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through you. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

In that moment, the distance that had felt insurmountable shrank, leaving only the two of you in a world filled with possibilities. Heeseung’s fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity through you.

“Can we start over?” he asked, his voice low and sincere. “Take it slow this time?”

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As the night sky stretched above you, you both stood together, the weight of unspoken words finally lifted. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves around you, a soothing reminder of the passage of time. Heeseung shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, and the warmth of his presence enveloped you.

“Remember when we used to talk about our dreams?” he asked, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his lips. “I used to think about how nice it would be to share those moments with someone special.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, recalling the late-night conversations that had felt so effortless. “Yeah, I remember. We talked about traveling, our goals, and even silly things like our favorite ice cream flavors.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I still stand by my favorite being mint chocolate chip.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst flavor,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“Hey!” Heeseung laughed, the sound light and carefree, like music to your ears. “You just don’t appreciate the refreshing taste!”

The playful banter felt familiar and comforting, a reminder of the bond you shared. You both leaned against the balcony railing, looking out at the shimmering lights of the city below, the vibrant energy reflecting the emotions swirling within you.

“I’ve missed this,” Heeseung admitted, his voice turning softer. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart fluttered at his honesty. “I’ve missed you too. It’s hard to explain, but life felt dull without you around.”

Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, the weight of his words resonating in the air. “I promise to be here for you this time. I won’t take our moments for granted again.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “I believe you.”

As you stood there, side by side, the world around you faded into the background. It was just you and Heeseung, two hearts that had weathered a storm, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

The air was charged with a mix of nervous energy and undeniable chemistry, and you felt a shift—a spark that ignited the promise of something more. You turned to him, your pulse racing.

“So, what’s next?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung smiled, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Well, first, I think I need to make it up to you for being such an idiot.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. “Oh really? And how do you plan to do that?”

He stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. “How about I take you out for ice cream? You can choose the flavor, even if it’s the ‘worst’ one.”

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “Deal. But you might regret it when I choose something crazy.”

“I can handle it,” he replied confidently, his smile infectious. “Just don’t be too mean to my mint chocolate chip.”

As you shared a laugh, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the warmth of rekindled feelings. The future was uncertain, but with Heeseung by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

As you both made plans for ice cream and more late-night talks, you realized that love wasn’t just a feeling—it was a journey. And together, you were ready to explore every twist and turn, hand in hand.

...

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 2 years ago

Text

FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.”

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up.

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?”

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.”

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months.

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor.

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself.

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending.

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning.

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times.

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages.

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame.

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice.

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.”

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk.

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor.

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it.

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first.

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything.

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week.

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat.

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew.

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?”

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear.

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely.

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.”

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch.

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed.

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder.

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further.

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone.

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat.

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close.

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now.

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.”

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision.

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back.

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat.

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you.

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest.

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp.

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.”

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure.

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body.

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you.

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further.

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees.

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching.

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle.

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats.

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt.

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold.

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly.

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.”

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face.

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing.

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex.

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt.

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt.

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before.

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!” then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you.

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter.

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack.

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride.

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in.

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further.

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure.

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close.

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch.

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response.

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity.

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors.

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.”

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #batman begins #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut

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radsoldier · 1 year ago

Text

You're a bad idea.

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?

a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times, also, english is so not my first language. hope you enjoy!

part 2

You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.

You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.

Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.

More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.

Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.

She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.

The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?

So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.

Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?

God, she needed some sleep.

_________

You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.

You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.

"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.

You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.

You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.

Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.

You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.

You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.

"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.

"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.

You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.

Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.

You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.

_________

Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.

You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.

"What do you want from me?" you asked.

She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.

"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"

Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.

"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.

She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.

Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.

You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.

_________

You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.

"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.

You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.

You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.

Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.

You liked the solitude of it.

So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.

"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.

"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.

You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.

"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.

Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.

"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.

And she sounded so sure of it.

Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.

"So pretty…" she said.

Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.

"Fuck" she whimpered.

You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.

"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.

"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.

You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.

You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.

She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.

The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.

"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.

And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet x female reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader

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h0efor2ho · 3 months ago

Text

Tutoring Temptation

Wonwoo X Reader

WC - 6.1k ( I got carried away )

TW - Nerd!Wonwoo, there is plot here with the porn, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it kids) cream pie, Wonwoo is the sweetest ever.

You'v always been a pretty good student. Able to keep up a 3.6 gpa while still having a decent social life. That was till you entered advanced calculus in your second year of college. You just couldn't grasp it no matter how hard you tried to study. Your grades dropping down to a 3.2 gpa. Your parents threatening to pull you out of school if you don't get your shit together. "Stop partying and start studying" your mother said. So you did. Spending night after night reading your text book, looking over your notes. Turning down invitations to house parties. Even going as far as to record your class and watch it back later. That's when you noticed that the guy who sits in the front of the room seems to always raise his hand and always gets the answer right. The idea formed in your head right away. You'd ask him to tutor you. You desperately needed the help and you figured he knew what he was doing.

The next day you make your way to class early, waiting and looking as students file into the lecture hall. It doesn't take long before you see his head of dark hair enter the room and make a b-line for the front seat. You quickly make your was down the steps past people talking till your feet hit the bottom floor and turn to carry you right up to his chair. He's bent over, back angled toward you as he pulls things out of his bag. His shirt neatly tucked into his brown pants, with a blazer over it. He doesn't notice you at all. "Uhm hey..."

Shit, you dont even know his name. You try and think back to the videos from class, of your professor calling him by name when you raised his hand. You're drawing a blank. He spins in his chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you. "Uhmm" you say again as you take in his features. He's not that bad looking for a nerd persay you think. "Wonwoo" he says snapping you out of your own thoughts. "huh" you ask.

"Wonwoo. My name. It's Wonwoo" he gives you a small smile. "Oh yea." you give him a small nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm also really bad at calculus. Which is why I'm here bothering you. I was hoping maybe you could tutor me?" you finish rambling and give him what you hope is not a cringy smile. Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, considering your request. His dark eyes study you for a moment before he replies, "I see. And here I thought you might be asking me on a date," he quips, his voice low and unexpectedly smooth. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by his playful response. "Oh, uh, no... I mean, not that you're not... I just..." you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for suddenly losing your ability to form coherent sentences.

He chuckles softly, seemingly enjoying your flustered state. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I suppose I could help you out. When were you thinking?" Relief washes over you. "Really? That would be amazing. I'm free pretty much any evening. Whatever works best for you." He nods, pulling out a small planner from his bag. "How about tomorrow night at 7? We can meet at the library." "Perfect," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Thank you so much, Wonwoo. I really appreciate it." He gives you another small smile. "No problem. Just make sure you bring your textbook and notes." You nod enthusiastically, about to respond when the professor walks in and calls the class to order. You quickly make your way back to your seat, heart beating a little faster than usual.

As you sit down, you can't help but glance down at Wonwoo. He's already focused on the professor, his pen poised over his notebook. You find yourself wondering what he's like outside of class. Is he always so composed? Does he ever let loose? The lecture begins, but your mind keeps drifting back to your upcoming tutoring session. You try to concentrate, scribbling down notes and formulas, but your thoughts are a jumble of calculus and curiosity about your new tutor. The rest of the day passes in a blur. You barely remember your other classes, your mind preoccupied with preparing for tomorrow night. That evening, you gather your calculus materials, making sure everything is organized and ready. You even jot down a list of specific questions and problem areas you want to address. That night, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts of complex equations and Wonwoo's unexpected charm. When you finally drift off, your dreams are a bizarre mix of calculus symbols and dark, knowing eyes behind glasses.

The next day drags on endlessly. You constantly check the time, willing the hours to pass faster. When 6:30 finally rolls around, you grab your backpack and head to the library arriving early, claiming a quiet table in the back corner. As you spread out your materials, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sound of approaching footsteps makes you look up, and there's Wonwoo, looking as put-together as always in a navy sweater and dark jeans. "Right on time," you say, trying to sound casual. He smiles, sliding into the chair next to you. "I'm nothing if not punctual. So, where should we start?" For the next hour, Wonwoo patiently guides you through problem after problem. His explanations are clear and concise, and you find yourself grasping concepts that had previously made you struggle. As you work through a particularly tricky equation, you can't help but notice how close he's leaning in, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he points out a crucial step. You catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's surprisingly appealing.

"See? It's all about breaking it down into smaller parts," he explains, his voice low and close to your ear. You nod, trying to focus on the numbers and not on the warmth radiating from his body. As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing, even joking with Wonwoo about some of the more absurd word problems in your textbook. His dry sense of humor surprises and delights you, and you catch yourself laughing more than you have in weeks "You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "you're not half bad at this when you actually focus." You feel a flutter of pride at his words. "Thanks," you say, smiling. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Wonwoo's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you can see a spark of something behind his gaze. He clears his throat and glances at his watch. "We've been at this for almost two hours. Do you want to take a break?"

You nod, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles feel from sitting hunched over your textbook. "Yeah, that sounds good.” Wonwoo smiles “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I know just the place," He says, standing up and stretching. You try not to stare as his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. You follow him out of the library and across campus to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away in a corner you've never noticed before. As you step inside, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops you. The shop is dimly lit, with mismatched vintage furniture and local artwork adorning the walls. It's intimate and charming, nothing like the bustling campus coffee chains you usually frequent.

"This place is amazing," you say, taking it all in. "How have I never been here before?" Wonwoo smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's a bit of a hidden gem. I like to come here when I need to escape the chaos of campus life." You follow him to the counter, where a barista with long blonde hair greets Wonwoo by name. "The usual?" she asks, already reaching for a mug. "Please," he nods, then turns to you. "What would you like? Their lavender latte is excellent if you're feeling adventurous." "I'll try that then," you say, intrigued by his recommendation. As you reach for your wallet, Wonwoo waves you off. "My treat," he says. "Consider it payment for being such a good student today."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his gesture. "Thank you," you say, touched by his kindness. You follow Wonwoo to a cozy corner booth, sinking into the plush velvet seats. The soft glow of Edison bulbs hanging overhead casts a warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face. You notice things about him you hadn't before. Like a small scar just above his left eyebrow, and the fact that is hair is not black but a very dark shade of brown. "So," you say, breaking the comfortable silence, "What made you decide to major in math? I mean, you're clearly good at it, but there must be a story there." Wonwoo looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's always just made sense to me, you know? There's a beauty in the logic of it all. Plus," he adds with a wry smile, "it impresses people at parties."

You laugh, surprised by his humor. "I can imagine. Though I have to admit, I've never been to a party where calculus was the main topic of conversation." Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then you're clearly going to the wrong parties. What about you? What's your major?" "Psychology," you reply. "Interesting," Wonwoo muses. "So you're studying the complexities of the human mind while I'm dealing with the complexities of mathematics." You're struck by his observation, realizing there's more depth to Wonwoo than you initially thought.

As you talk, you find yourself opening up about your struggles with calculus, your fears of disappointing your parents. Wonwoo listens intently, his dark eyes focused on you. When you finish, he leans forward slightly. "I understand that pressure," he says softly. "It's not easy living up to others' expectations." There's a vulnerability in his voice that surprises you. For a moment, you see past the composed exterior to someone who might be struggling with his own doubts and insecurities. "How do you do it?" you ask. "How do you make it all look so effortless?" Wonwoo's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Trust me, it's not effortless. I just... I've learned to channel my anxiety into my work. But sometimes, I wonder if I'm missing out on other aspects of college life."

You're about to respond when the barista approaches with your drinks. She sets down two steaming mugs, the rich, floral scent of lavender rising from your cup. You give Wonwoo a quick glance, and he nods in thanks, offering a soft smile. "Here you go," the barista says before retreating behind the counter. You wrap your hands around the warm mug, feeling the heat seep into your palms, a comforting contrast to the coolness of the evening. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, the warmth in your chest spreading. "This place really is great. Perfect for getting away from everything." Wonwoo nods, taking a slow sip from his own drink. He seems more relaxed here, away from the chaos of the main campus. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots. Feels like a little slice of calm." His eyes flicker to you briefly, an unreadable look in them before he shifts slightly in his seat, settling back.

For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps between your conversation. You take a sip of your lavender latte, savoring the sweet, floral taste, feeling oddly at peace. "So," Wonwoo finally breaks the silence, his voice a little softer now. "You mentioned earlier that you're majoring in psychology. What made you choose that?" You think for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I guess I’ve always been curious about what makes people tick," you say. "Why we do the things we do, how we make decisions, how we deal with emotions... There's just so much to learn, you know? It feels like there's always something new to discover." Wonwoo listens, his gaze thoughtful, and you can tell he's really taking in your words. "It’s interesting," he murmurs, "how you’re trying to understand people while I’m trying to make sense of... numbers. There’s something kind of poetic about it."

You smile, surprised at how well he understands. "I guess we're not so different after all, huh?" He chuckles lightly, leaning back into his chair. "Seems like it." His eyes meet yours for a brief second, a spark of something flickering in them. "You know, I didn’t take you for a psych major, no offense. It's just the only thing I knew about you before tonight was that you partied a lot. You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yea, I guess I gave off that vibe before I got serious about school,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “I always had a good time, but I’ve definitely been focusing more lately. Trying to get things back on track. Your parents threatening to pull you from school does that to you" Wonwoo nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "It's good that you're figuring things out. College can be a balancing act. But you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily. I think you’ll get there."

His words, simple but encouraging, make you feel a little lighter, like the weight of everything isn't so heavy anymore. "I hope so," you say, taking another sip of your latte. "Honestly, it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I’ve been caught up in my own head lately, especially with everything going on at home." Wonwoo's eyes soften at your words. "You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know. It’s okay to lean on people." He pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And sometimes it’s okay to take a break too." You look at him, really look at him for the first time since you’ve sat down, and for the first time, you notice that there’s more to him than just the quiet, reserved guy who aces every class. There’s a quiet strength in him, a kind of stability that draws you in.

"Thanks, Wonwoo. I really appreciate everything," you say, your voice sincere. He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and for a second, you can’t help but feel a little spark of something more between the two of you. Something you can’t quite place but that feels strangely warm and comfortable. "Anytime," he replies, his voice low and steady. "And hey, don’t worry. You’ll figure out calculus. But if you ever need someone to talk to... about anything else, I’m here." You smile, feeling a little flutter of gratitude. "I think I just might take you up on that."

The two of you sit there for a while longer, enjoying your drinks and the quiet atmosphere of the café, talking about everything from school to silly memories to your favorite music. You realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable you feel in his presence. And even though you’re still not sure what exactly is happening between you two, you can’t deny that something is starting to change. As the night grows later, the cafe begins to empty out, and you both realize it's getting late. You stand up, gathering your things, and Wonwoo does the same. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, a little reluctantly. "And for everything tonight. I feel like I actually get calculus now." You grin.

Wonwoo smirks, clearly pleased. "I’m glad I could help. Just don’t expect me to tutor you every night. I have my own assignments too." He says it with a teasing tone, but you can tell he’s enjoying this new dynamic between you. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, grinning back. "I hope you do." He replies as he opens the door for you. As you both step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of warmth linger between you, something subtle but unmistakable. The evening was a nice break from the grind of school, but there’s also this growing sense that maybe, just maybe, you’ve stumbled upon something more than just a tutoring session.

As you walk together back to campus, the conversation flows easily, the chemistry between you two undeniable. Wonwoo’s witty remarks and insightful comments seem to draw you in further, and you can’t help but find yourself eagerly looking forward to the next time you’ll see him, even though you try to play it cool. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement bubbling underneath. Wonwoo turns to you, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think we can make that happen. But how about we meet at my dorm, I expect you to bring your A-game,” he teases, nudging you playfully with his shoulder “Deal,” you breath out.

The next day feels like it stretches on forever as you go through the motions of your classes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wonwoo. The way he helped you the night before, the casual banter, and that lingering smile — it all replayed in your head in a loop. Something about him made everything seem easier, not just calculus, but the world in general. When evening finally rolls around, you find yourself feeling oddly nervous, though you try to brush it off as you gather your notes and make your way to his dorm. Your heart beats a little faster as you walk, the excitement of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind.

As you approach the dorm, you see Wonwoo waiting outside, leaning casually against the brick wall, his arms crossed talking to Mingyu, the quarterback on the football team. He’s wearing a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his usual composed demeanor softer, somehow more approachable in this setting. When he sees you, he straightens up and gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter, before dismissing himself from their conversation. You watch as Mingyu walks away as Wonwoo walks to you.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” You glance at his outfit. "Glad we chose casual attire today" you poke at him. He chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea I just got out of the shower, I was at the gym with Mingyu." You make your was up the flight of stairs. "I didn't realize you two were friends." You say as you follow him. "Yea we grew up together. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." As you step inside his dorm, it’s clear this isn’t your typical college living situation. The space is surprisingly neat and organized, with a few bookshelves lining the walls and a desk cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, but in a controlled way, as if it was a deliberate mess. There’s a sense of order to it, just like him. You hang up your sweater on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and take a seat on his bed. Wonwoo follows you into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. He grabs his textbook from his desk and then turns to face you. There’s a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes you settling in on his bed.

“You sure look like you’re comfortable there?” he asks, his tone teasing but still warm. He walks over and climbs up on the bed with you, close to you. "Comfortable?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. You smirk, leaning back slightly on your hands. "Very. I figured if I’m going to suffer through calculus, I might as well do it in comfort." Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down beside you, placing the textbook between you both. "Alright, let’s get started then. No distractions this time." You nod, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’re sitting this close to him, the warmth of his body radiating next to you. You force yourself to focus as he starts explaining derivatives, his voice calm and patient.

The study session goes smoothly at first, but as the minutes tick by, you find yourself more aware of the way Wonwoo’s fingers move as he writes out equations, the slight crease in his brow when he’s thinking, the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he glances at you to check if you’re following along. At one point, you get stuck on a problem, groaning in frustration. "I swear, calculus was invented just to torture people." Wonwoo laughs, leaning in slightly as he looks over your work. "You're overcomplicating it. Look—" His hand brushes against yours as he reaches for your pencil, his touch brief but enough to send a tiny spark through you. You glance at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The air between you shifts, something unspoken lingering in the silence. He leans in slightly, eyes tracking your face. "It's all about perspective," he murmurs, his voice low and unexpectedly close. He's still holding your pencil, his fingers brushing against yours, and the simple act feels charged with an energy you can't quite explain. You can smell his cologne again, that same subtle, woodsy scent from the coffee shop, and it’s intoxicatingly distracting.

He doesn't pull away, and neither do you. The textbook lies forgotten between you, the complex equations blurring into meaningless symbols. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you can see a flicker of something in the depths of his dark pupils – something that mirrors the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest. "You know," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I never would have guessed you were so… focused." The word hangs in the air, loaded with a double meaning. You know he's not just talking about calculus anymore. "Focused?" you echo, your voice equally soft. He nods, his eyes still locked on yours. "Yeah. You seem… different than I expected." "Different how?" you ask, your heart pounding against your ribs. He hesitates for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "More… intense. More… interesting."

A blush creeps up your neck, but you don't look away. You're mesmerized by him, by the way the light catches his glasses, by the slight furrow in his brow that suggests he's just as nervous as you are. "I could say the same about you," you reply, finally finding your voice. "I thought you were just… a genius. Turns out you're also… interesting." He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" You nod, unable to articulate the thoughts swirling through your head. You're acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the way your thighs are almost touching, the warmth radiating from him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and you have the distinct feeling that something is about to change between you two.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe… maybe we should take a break from calculus," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. "A break?" He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "Yea. A break." He doesn't need to say anything else. You know exactly what he means. The calculus book slips off the bed and falls to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed by either of you. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch is feather-light as it lingers in your hair, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, his voice husky. You nod, your own voice lost somewhere in the sudden rush of adrenaline. "More than okay," you manage to say. That's all the confirmation he needs. His lips are soft when they meet yours, a tentative touch at first, as if he's testing the waters. But the kiss quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hand moves from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss grows more urgent, more heated, and before you know it, you’re lying back against his mattress, Wonwoo hovering over you. His glasses are slightly askew, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him like this—disheveled and undone because of you— sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, voice low, gaze searching yours. You nod, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Yes. I want this. I... I want you” He kisses you again, a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, your own hands exploring the contours of his back, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you can't help the small moan that escapes your lips as he nuzzles your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, and you gasp, clutching him tighter.

Your hands slide up under his shirt, your hands flat against the muscles of his back. It's not long before his mouth reaches the collar of your shirt. He pulls back, sitting on his knees as he looks down at you. "Can I take this off?" he asks breathlessly pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly shake your head yes "Please" you say. His hands make quick work of pulling your shirt off over your head, his hand coming down and sliding under your back. His hand gripping the clasp of your bra. "This too?" he ask's as his lips ghost over yours. You kiss him in response. His hand move quickly, undoing your bra before he pulls back from the kiss.

He gently removes your bra, his eyes darkening with desire as they rake over your exposed skin. The cool air brushes against you, making you shiver with anticipation. He leans in, his lips finding your skin again. His hands roam over yourbody, his touch setting you on fire. You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his desire hard against your stomach. You moan softly, arching into him, wanting more.

Your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tug. "Off" you say breathlessly. "As you wish" he says, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The evadence of those work outs with Mingyu. Your hands immediately explore the hard planes of his muscles, earning a low groan from him. He captures your lips again. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot, wet path to your collarbone. You arch your back, craving more contact. His hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You gasp at the intimate touch, your hips rising to meet him. His fingers find your core, already slick with desire. He groans your name, the sound sending a thrill through you.

He coats his fingers in your wetness before finding your clit. With deliberate strokes, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reactions. You writhe beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. He smirks, his touch becoming more insistent, pushing you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. He leans down, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you shatter around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He grips the top of your leggings, pulling down both them and your underwear in one swift motion till they are a heap on the floor.

His hand moves lower, slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden feeling, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that soft spot deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands gripping his sheets as he drives you wild. "More," you plead, your voice ragged. He slowly, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your moans and his groans. He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The sensation of both pushes you over the edge again, your body convulsing as you come undone around his fingers.

He doesn't stop, continuing to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Your vision blurs, pleasure coursing through you. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and tasting you. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He moves down your body, spreading your legs wide. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking your clit. You scream his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he drives you higher. His tongue lapping at your wet entrance, his fingers gripping your thighs as he devours you.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he continues his assault on your senses. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting you. You can't hold back any longer, your body tensing as another orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, not even when the tears start to flow.

He finally pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal. He moves back up your body, his hard length pressing against your thigh. "How are you doing?" he ask's, concern shining in his eyes. "I need you to take then off now" you say as you push the waist of his sweats down his hips. He gives you a small chuckle before standing up and pulling his pants down. Your eyes widen at the site of his huge cock. This long and thick and has a head the prettiest shade of pink that currently is driping pre cum. He climbs baack ontop of you, pepering kisses along your skin till he meets your mouth again.

You reach down, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly. He groans, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to regain control. But you're not done with him yet. You guide him to your entrance, "Please Wonwoo" you moan. With one smooth thrust, his cock is deep inside you. You let out a moan from deep in your throat as your eyes slam shut. He still's. "Hey, hey. Open your eyes for me baby" he coos down at you. His hands pushing your hair out of the way, cupping your face. You peel your eyes open, finding his right above you. "Are you okay?" He ask's sweetly. Your chest filling with warmth. "Yea" you whisper out. "Do you want me to stop?" He starts to raise up on his arms. "NO" you say gripping onto his arms to stop him. "I just needed a minute to adjust. Your big Wonwoo" you watch as a blush creeps across his face, joined by a smile.

"You are going to be the death of me aren't you" he laughs "And you will be for me if you dont move" you push your hips forward to get your point across, instantly regretting it as you feel him nudge inside of you. A moan slipping from both of your mouths. In response he starts to move his hips. Slow and cautious at first, but your sounds quickly spur him on. He picks up the pace, growing more confidant as he watches you chant his name with each thrust. Your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens. Wonwoo leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice rough. His fingers lace with yours, pinning them beside your head as he thrusts into you. The room filled with the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, your small gasps and moans and his grunts every time you tighten around him.

"Wonwoo," you whimper, your back arching as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby." His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "You’re amazing," he breathes against your lips, his voice trembling as he fights to make this last. But the way you feel around him, it's unraveling his control. His free hand trails down your body, tracing over the curve of your waist before slipping between you, finding your clit and making your breath hitch. He starts with tight pressured circles. "Wonwoo, I—" Your voice breaks as you're vaulted over the edge. Your wall tightening around him as you release all over his cock. His movements turning erratic as he chases his own release behind you, burying hims cock deep inside you as he shudders with pleasure. Spilling deep inside you.

His body collapses onto of you, staying buried deep in you. He presses gentle kisses along your jaw, his touch now featherlight, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. "You okay?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your hip. You nod, a blissful smile stretching across your face. "More than okay." He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe, cherished. "I have something to tell you" he says as he kisses the top of your head. "okay" you say hesitantly, fear creeping into your mind at what it could be.

"I have had a little crush on you for a long time now." He says voice just above a whisper. "But I'v been to scared to ever approach you. Afraid you wouldn't want to be with someone like me" Your breath catches at his confession, your heart squeezing in your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest. "Wonwoo," you whisper, his name a gentle reassurance on your lips.

His eyes flicker with vulnerability, a rare sight that makes your heart ache. "I didn't know how to approach you. You were always hanging out with the popular kids." he says "it felt like we were in two different worlds." You look up at him thinking back to just last week and you could see how that could be. "Well we're not anymore" you say kissing his chest. He laughs "Your right, so if I were to say ask you out on a date this weekend, your answer would be?"

You grin up at him, your fingers still tracing lazy circles against his skin. "I’d say yes," you murmur, watching as relief washes over his face, quickly replaced by the softest smile you've ever seen from him. "Yea?" he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. You nod, tilting so your face is closer to his. "Yes, Wonwoo. A thousand times yes." you ghost your lips over his. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It’s different from before. Less urgency, more depth. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you fit against him. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with something deeper than just desire. "Guess I should start planning the perfect first date, then," he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile, nuzzling into his chest. "Yea I guess you should."

Dividers by @strangergraphics

#wonwoo hard hour #wonwoo smut #svt wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo hard thoughts #svt smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen wonwoo smut #wonwoo

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bandgie · 11 months ago

Text

The One That Got Away

synopsis: Hyunjin is nothing more than a playboy you wish you had zero history with. You wish he feels the same, but he can't seem to forget the night you ran from him.

warning!: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, oral (f!rec), teeth use (i have to), fingering, cum eating, dry humping (brief)

notes: this is a request that took me way too long to write

3.8k words

“No.”

Hwang Hyunjin blinks. He awkwardly shifts on his feet, standing at the front of the classroom two feet shy away from you. He had made sure to ask you once everyone left. When you were busy stacking the papers the students turned in for grading. Your unamused eyes looked away from his still form, hoping he’d get the message and leave, but of course, he didn't.

“No?” He parrots. “I really need to pass this course.”

“And I really need to grade the papers,” you slap the stack on the desk. When you applied to be a teaching assistant for your professor, you thought it would be simply grading and answering emails. Instead, you’re teaching class, helping students who are either too tired or high to understand what you’re saying. It got to the point that you begged Professor Bang for another TA, one that’s specifically for tutoring.

“But Jisung told me to ask you. All of his slots are full,” his usual cocky eyes fill with uncertainty. “Is this because of…the thing?”

You freeze at the mention, swearing that your heart stops beating. A flash of memories infiltrate your mind as you're forced to recall his hands on your body, the feeling of his warm breath on your neck as you pushed up against him. It was before the semester started. Before you knew that Hwang Hyunjin would be one of your professor’s students.

The first time he saw you.

You clear your throat, carefully putting the papers in your bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But your half-irritated half-nervous demeanor gives it away. It’s enough for Hyunjin to smile, propping himself against the desk almost flirtingly. “You don’t? Well, I do. You were wearing that cute little tank top and-”

“Jisung is the one in charge of tutoring,” you cut him off and pray he can't see the blood rushing to your face. “If he doesn’t have a slot open, I’ll make him open one up. Don’t bother me about shit that isn’t my problem.”

There’s a small victorious feeling when you see his smile drop. When his limbs look more lanky than confident as you take your leave. The reason your hips sway is because of your heels, not because of the piercing gaze you know Hyunjin is giving your back.

Luck is hardly, if ever, on your side. Or maybe it was just Jisung’s pretty eyes practically begging you to take just one student to tutor that made you cave.

“Just one time, please! I’m filled with students already!”

“I don’t see any sessions for Saturday.”

“It’s mine and Minho’s anniversary that day! Pleeease!”

You tune out the remembered conversation to focus on your outfit instead. It was Hyunjin’s idea to meet at a cafe, though you weren’t sure if they were open this late. You slide your clothes across the rack, looking for a jacket when a familiar tank top catches your eye. Gently, you pull it from the closet to further inspect it.

You were wearing that cute little tank top…

The material is tight, purposely so that your chest pushes together for extra cleavage. It makes you look nice, so much so that Hyunjin couldn’t take his eyes off you that night. Were you a student? No, Hyunjin knew almost everyone, especially pretty girls. There’s no way you would have slipped under his radar. Asking you to dance was pure alcohol on his side, you grinding your ass against his crotch was on yours.

There isn’t much to the memory, you left before things got too serious. But you remembered the night when you woke up the day after and apparently, so did Hyunjin when you walked into the classroom to introduce yourself as their TA.

Wearing the same tank top would be foolish. It would only show Hyunjin that you did remember, that you did like the way he felt against you even through all the clothes and people bumping against you. Logically, you should toss the top back into the closet.

You saved thinking logically for your assignments.

Hyunjin was having a hard time looking at your eyes. You were explaining the critical differences between an independent and a dependent variable, but those pretty lips moving would occasionally sip on the staw. Your lips would purse and your tongue would stretch out to firmly hold onto it while you drank. Your throat would gently bob, and now you licked the remaining liquid from your lips to continue talking.

Whenever you help Hyunjin write, his eyes lock with your chest. That damned tank top barely doing anything to help the spilling of your tits. The same ones he groped from behind you during that night, daring to dip underneath that material just before you fled.

“Why did you run away?”

You pause in the middle of your sentence to look up at him, leaning back to properly scan his face. Hyunjin hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but he can't find himself regretting it when you cock your head to the side in confusion. “From what?”

“The thing.”

You groan, grabbing your cup and furiously drinking it. “Can you stop it with the thing? That was months ago.” You keep sipping in hopes of Hyunjin dropping it, but he leans closer from the other side of the table as he says, “I don’t think so. You were all up on me and then dipped. I can’t get over it.”

“First of all,” you raise a manicured finger at him. “You were the one on me, let's get that straight. Secondly,” you put up a second digit, “You’re gonna have to get over it. I didn’t wanna fuck you then and I don’t wanna fuck you now.” Horrified eyes from nearby tables turn in your direction. You silently curse yourself and embarrassingly suck on the straw. “This isn’t a place where we should talk about this.”

Hyunjin nods, agreeing with you for what seems like the first time ever. “You’re right. Let’s go to mine.” He begins to pack his things without waiting for your response. You scowl at him, watching as he leaves a generous tip for the waiter and stands.

You don’t know why you follow him and you don’t want to know. His place is only a few blocks away from the cafe, but the street feels like it stretches on forever in the night. Hyunjin keeps you on the inner sidewalk, huffing about how you shouldn’t walk close to the streets. You’d think it was cute if the person was someone other than him, so you only bicker in return.

It’s only when you enter his apartment that you fall silent. You thought his place would be trashed, maybe even some female underwear lying around somewhere, but it’s cozy. Clean enough to know that he keeps it up, but still having things thrown around to know he frequents here. Books sprawled open, only a few dishes in the sink, and random splashes of paint on the hard floor as if he spilled.

“Not bad, huh?” He smiles at your ogling. You huff and turn your head away from him, “I never said it was good.” Hyunjin chuckles, gesturing to the small living room as he makes his way to his smaller kitchen.

“I got chocolate muffins, grapes… instant ramen…” he trails off, obviously desperate to look for something good to offer. “I assume knock-off Oreos are off the table?” Against your better self, you smile. You remember being a struggling undergrad, living off cheap ramen and tap water. “I’m okay, thanks.”

He nods, “Good. ‘Cuz that has to last me ‘till my next paycheck.”

You look at him both amused and perplexed. “Then why did you even offer me anything?” Hyunjin flops beside you on the couch, letting his limbs stretch, “Because I’m a good host. Am I supposed to let a pretty girl starve instead?”

Ah, there he is. It’s hard to believe that Hyunjin is anyone but a flirt. It’s even harder to believe that his little tricks actually worked, even almost on you. “Does that always work for you?” He cocks his pretty head to the side, dark hair falling over his eyes in the process, “Does what?”

You gesture to his body; the open legs, the sly smirk, the nonchalant slouch that he’s practiced, “This whole…act. You being all hot and flirty so girls will sleep with you.” Hyunjin’s eyes widen. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with your observation. It only takes a cool ruffle of his hand through his hair before he says, “I dunno. Is it working?” He laughs borderline obnoxiously while your nose scrunches in distaste. “Hardly. I’d say it’s having quite the opposite effect.”

A wicked smile finds his beautiful lips. “Is that so?” Hyunjin gently places his hand on your thigh, letting his thumb rub on the smooth surface of your skin. He leans towards you, hair tickling your neck as he whispers, “How about now? You feeling any different?”

He expects you to roll your eyes, maybe even push him away, but you don’t. You’re too busy trying to ignore the pumping of your heart. It’s loud in your ears, thump thump thump.

You open and close your mouth, not sure of what you should say. Shoving him away should be your next move, but being this close to him only reminds you of the party. His breath is warm on your skin, so much like that night. Hyunjin doesn’t creep his hand up, but you're silently wishing he could. You want to feel him touch you again. You want his fingers to dig into the flesh of your breasts, leaving marks in their wake.

“Why’d you run?” He asks again.

You can’t ignore him now. Not when the truth crawls up your throat and leaves your tongue. “I didn’t mean to. I just had never…” You turn your head away. A part of you wants to run away again. To leave this awkward, yet alluring situation. You want to go back to the comfort of your room, rotting in your bed while graduates and undergraduates live the college life you know isn’t meant for you.

Hyunjin doesn’t let you escape this time, not without an answer at least. One hand finds your chin, gently turning it until you’re forced to look at him. His eyes are anything but impatient like you thought they’d be. They’re intent, watchful, and gleaming. They drop to your tongue swiping against your lips then back to your eyes.

God, you want to kiss him.

“You just never what?”

Screw it. You close the distance. With your eyes closed, you pray that you find his lips aimlessly. Hyunjin lets out a surprised mmf! when you make contact. He lets your lips mold around his, moving his hand from your chin to the back of your neck to steady himself. He presses you slightly harder against him, forcing your mouth to open just the tiniest bit so he can get the first taste of you.

The gentle sounds of smacking turn wetter. You quietly whimper against his mouth and you feel him smile. Hyunjin tugs you. Once, twice, before you finally get the message to sit on his lap. You only break the kiss for a short second before your back on them, ignoring the nervousness pooling in your stomach as you straddle him.

Hyunjin pulls from your mouth to kiss your cheek, down your jawline until he bites your earlobe. You cry out, gripping his shoulders and slightly trembling in his hold. His hands squeeze your waist, unintentionally making you rub against his crotch.

“Look at that,” he whispers in your ear. “Who’s on who now?” Hyunjin giggles when you bury your face in his neck. His hands roam lower until they find the fat of your ass. You stiffen, arching your back just the slightest so he can have more to grab. With his hands on you, Hyunjin slowly grinds you on his crotch. You feel his hard-on, the bulge pressing against your cunt so deliciously it scares you.

Hyunjin notices the difference. He picks his head from your neck and you do the same.

“You said you've never done something before,” you can see him connecting the two, but you already know he’s going to arrive at the wrong answer. “Did you mean, like? You’re still a virgin?”

You shake your head, red from both embarrassment and arousal. “Not like that. I just mean, I’ve never had…a hookup.”

He raises his eyebrow. “You? Never?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re like, a graduate. And you’re hot.” Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows and you playfully push him. “Thanks, but none of those really matter. I get awkward if it’s not someone I know. That’s why I usually…”

He finishes for you, “Run away.”

You nod.

“Well…” Hyunjin moves his hands back to your waist, lifting you until you’re back seated on the couch. Disappointment fills you. You weren’t sure if you necessarily wanted to fuck Hyunjin, but you definitely didn’t want to be rejected by him at the very least. You don’t want to feel humiliated, but you do. You’re about to get up and practically scurry for the front door before he parts your legs.

Hyunjin hooks one over his shoulder while the other hangs over the couch limp. He leans his head down, stomach flat on the cushions as he nudges against your thighs. He shoots you a sly smile, “Guess we’ll just start slow then.”

You bite your lower lip when his fingers diligently work your buttons. Hyunjin leans closer and takes hold of the zipper in his mouth. “This okay wit’ you?” You giggle from his muffled words, nodding. “Mhm. I honestly thought you were gonna tell me to leave.”

His eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident in his face as he drags the zipper down. “What?” He says as he shuffles your pants down. “Why would I do that?” You shrug, but there’s a pink hue in your cheeks. “I dunno. I was thinking maybe you’d like someone who knew what they were doing.”

Hyunjin blows a raspberry, concentrating on getting your tight jeans off until they’re nothing but a pile of clothes on the floor. He settles back between your legs, eyes lighting up at the sight of your pretty panties. “The way you were grinding up on me that night? I won’t lie, I definitely thought you knew what you were doing. But it doesn’t really matter if you do or don’t.” Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you hum from the warmth. “I can do it all for you.”

Heat bubbles in your stomach at those words. You mindlessly nod, although you’re not sure if you were supposed to respond anyway. Hyunjin’s nose brushes against your clothed cunt, his lips puckering so he can gently press kisses to your core.

You mewl at the sensation, widening your legs so he has more room. Hyunjin shows his appreciation by opening his mouth. Even through your underwear, you can feel the heat of his mouth. Your legs eagerly quiver when he finally plants his mouth on your pussy. His tongue makes work to your clit, rubbing the sensitive flesh until your panties grow wetter.

The sounds make up for the lack of noise in the room, but you can’t find yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he finally pushes the underwear to the side with the tip of his nose and presses another gentle kiss on your bare cunt. His tongue is just as gentle as his lips. He smoothes over your flesh with consideration, sucking the bud of your clit. You jolt, one hand shooting to his hair to grip.

“Fuck!” You use your free hand to grasp onto your breast with your elbow keeping you half-sitting. “It’s so sensitive there.”

Hyunjin giggles with your clit in his mouth, giving a harsh suck just to pop off a second later. “I know. Ever had your pussy eaten at least?”

You have to blink in concentration. It’s hard to think of the small, pathetic sexual encounters you’ve had when Hyunjin goes back to eating you out. The only response you give him is moaning, your hand pressing him deeper into your cunt until his nose shines with arousal.

A whine leaves you when he pulls away, replacing his skilled mouth with equally skilled fingers. They’re long, and warm, but not as soft as this tongue. You open your mouth to complain, but a long-winded sigh leaves instead when they brush against your fattening clit. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you look at his digits flicking your pussy. “Shit.”

“Anyone ever told you how cute your little pussy is?” He locks eyes with your core. “I can’t believe no one’s tasted it. It’s fucking good.” Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over with something you haven’t seen before. A desire so deep you think he could drink you up with just his look. His tongue pokes out of his mouth unconsciously as he slides his fingers lower, just until the tip of his digit finds your entrance.

He dips it in, groaning at how easily you open up for him. It’s warm inside, so soft that he can’t help the way his fingers keep digging deeper until his knuckles touch your skin. You can feel your walls pulsing around him as you throw your head back. “Not- mmm- not like this. No one’s eaten me like this.”

Hyunjin lets out what you think is closer to a growl than a moan at your words. He pumps his fingers fast and hard, making a repetitive slapping sound echo throughout his living room. You squeal, snapping your head down to look at him. You clench harder seeing him; his open mouth, the intense gaze, the heavy breathing.

Unable to keep eye contact, you peer down at your cunt. His fingers have a sheer coat of white from his efforts, so much so that it begins to slide down his wrist. You whimper at the sight. Hyunjin follows your line of sight, moaning at the mess you’ve made on him.

“God, fuck!” He leans his back down, tongue already blindlessly looking for your cunt. “Please, please, please.” You’re not sure what he’s begging for, but something in you bubbles with the first signs of your orgasm at the thought of him so needy to taste you. The combination of his fingers and mouth makes you gasp. The very few people you’ve been with only cared if you were wet enough to take them. They didn’t care if you came. If you felt so good that you wanted to crawl out of your skin like how you feel now.

It’s so hot being trapped between your thighs. Hyunjin has sweat dripping down his forehead, but he hardly slows down. Not when he can see you panting, legs restlessly scrambling before you wrap them around his neck to keep him there. Being pressed against your cunt makes it harder for him to finger you, but you don’t seem to mind. You seem content with having something to clench down on while he sucks on your clit, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

“Hyunjin!” You cry out his name. You repeat it over and over when his mouth envelopes your entire pussy. He sucks, he licks, and he grunts when you yank on his hair a little too hard. Your hips begin to rock against his face, trying to both escape and increase the intense pleasure you’re feeling. His mouth follows you easily, uncaring of how much you pull and tug on his hair.

“Don’t stop. Shit, please don’t stop.” You build and build, nearly forgetting to breathe before finally crashing down. Hyunjin tipped you over by ever so slightly biting on your clit. The hardness of his teeth provides the perfect amount of pressure for you to cum on his face. Hyunjin stills his fingers, letting you rhythmically pulse around his digits while his tongue laps continuously over your flesh.

You must sound like you’re crying, screaming, or something in between. You can’t help the shuddering breaths, the loud mewls, or the moans that leave you when Hyunjin helps you come down from your high.

Finally, you release his hair. You loosen the grip you've trapped him with between your legs so he can let up, but Hyunjin stays satisfied by licking you clean. It would be overstimulating if it weren’t for his kitten licks. His tongue swipes a fat strip up your pussy before pulling his fingers from your entrance to suck there instead.

“Damn,” you say breathlessly. “You stuck there or something?”

Hyunjin makes you yelp when he roughly drags his tongue back to your nub. You shoot him a warning look that only makes him laugh. “Weren’t you telling me not to stop?” You huff, rolling your eyes and looking away dramatically.

Hyunjin doesn’t let you bicker before he sits up away from your cunt. Although your cunt is swollen and sensitive, you can’t help but chase the heat of his mouth when he lets go.

You whine and collapse on the couch, arm and back slightly aching from keeping you upright. You can’t imagine how tired his jaw must be from making you finish, but he wears your cum like a trophy on his face. Hyunjin keeps a dazed smile on, leaning back until his back perches on the arm-rest of the couch

“Ugh,” You groan from his shit-eating grin, closing your legs and sitting upright. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, picking it back to give you a false frown. “I made you cum, and that’s how you repay me?” He pouts, “Don’t try and run away from me again.” Your breath gets caught at his words. He most likely meant it as a joke, but you can’t help feeling almost guilty about leaving him high and dry that night. Maybe you should finally make it up to him.

“Do you want me to…return the favor?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen for a moment, seemingly surprised that you even offered. You’re waiting for him to shift in his seat and begin to unbuckle his belt, but he stays on his ass comfortably. “Nah, that’s okay.” He smiles charmingly. “You can kiss me instead.”

You groan, pretending that the butterflies erupting in your stomach are just the aftershocks from your orgasm. Hyunjin laughs again, harder this time. He’s too busy closing his eyes and giggling at your reactions to see you crawl forward. Too busy wiping the hilarious tears to notice that you’ve puckered your lips and leaned in.

This time, you’re the one smiling when he squeaks in your mouth.

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin hwang #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin

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okasuka · 3 months ago

Text

The wind howled over Gotham’s skyline, cold and sharp as a knife. Perched on the edge of a rooftop, Damian adjusted his cape, eyes trained on the figure beside him.

“You’re unusually quiet tonight,” he noted, watching her adjust the straps on her gauntlets.

She scoffed. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

He shot her a side glance. “Doubtful.”

She exhaled, rocking back on her heels. “Alright, fine. I do have something to say, but I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just say it.”

She hesitated before blurting, “I’ll be at your school tomorrow.”

Silence.

Damian blinked. Once. Twice. “…Excuse me?”

“I—uh. Yeah.” She scratched the back of her head, avoiding his stare. “I’m transferring. Gotham Academy. Starting tomorrow.”

Damian’s mind short-circuited for a moment. His partner—the vigilante he had been working with for weeks, the one he had deemed competent enough to not be a complete liability—was going to be in his civilian life?

“You’re joking.”

“I’m really not.”

“That is—” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “—unexpected.”

“Tell me about it.” She sighed, resting her hands on her hips. “Look, I just figured I’d give you a heads-up, so you don’t, I don’t know, freak out or something.”

“I do not ‘freak out.’”

“Right, okay.” She nodded mockingly. “So if I say ‘hey, Damian, I’ll see you in Chemistry class,’ you’re totally cool with that?”

“…You’re in my Chemistry class?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

He folded his arms, frowning. “Do you at least have a cover story?”

She shrugged. “My dad got a job in Gotham, so we moved here. That’s the official version. Unofficially, I just thought it’d be nice to have some social torture to go with my nightly vigilantism.”

He exhaled sharply. “You’re going to be a disaster.”

“I know.”

Another beat of silence.

Damian finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But if you embarrass yourself, I will not be seen with you.”

“Wow. Friendship.” She grinned, nudging him. “Anyway, see you tomorrow, Wayne.” With that, she shot off the rooftop, disappearing into the night.

Damian stood there for a long moment, scowling.

Tomorrow was going to be… interesting.

The Next Day – Gotham Academy

Damian sat at his usual seat, flipping through a textbook, trying to ignore the persistent chatter of his classmates. He had managed to convince himself that maybe—just maybe—last night had been some sort of sleep-deprived hallucination.

Then the door opened.

And there she was.

Standing awkwardly at the front of the class, arms stiff at her sides, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“This is our new student,” the teacher announced. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

She cleared her throat. “Uh. Hi. I’m—” Her eyes darted to Damian’s, and he swore she looked one step away from bolting. “I’m new.”

A pause.

Someone coughed.

The teacher arched an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

Damian sighed. This was going to be an absolute nightmare.

Title: Rooftops & Roll Call (Pt. 2)

Damian had expected her to be awkward. That much had been obvious from their rooftop conversations. What he hadn’t expected was just how much of a walking disaster she would be in a social setting.

The moment she sat down—unfortunately, at the seat right next to him—she slouched like she was trying to disappear. He noticed the way she kept fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie, how she didn’t seem to know where to look, and how she flinched slightly whenever someone walked too close to her desk.

It was… frustrating to watch.

Not because he cared.

But because she was his partner. And if she was this bad at blending in, someone would start asking questions.

At lunch, he made the mistake of watching her instead of eating. She had picked a table in the corner of the cafeteria, hunched over a book, headphones stuffed into her ears. That should have been the end of it.

Until three boys—seniors, judging by their size and smugness—walked over.

Damian immediately recognized the type. Privileged, overconfident, and endlessly entertained by picking on people who wouldn’t fight back.

He stiffened.

One of them knocked on her table. “Yo, new girl.”

She blinked up at them, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Uh… hi?”

“Bit weird to sit alone, don’t you think?”

She furrowed her brows. “I—I mean, not really?”

Another one snickered. “So what’s your deal? You don’t talk, you don’t eat, and you dress like you just rolled out of bed.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then muttered, “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

The first guy grinned. “See? Weird.”

Damian’s grip on his fork tightened.

They weren’t even being particularly creative—just the usual idiotic high school taunts—but for some reason, it bothered him more than it should. She could hold her own against criminals twice her size, but here, in a normal setting, she was completely out of her element.

One of them reached out and plucked her headphones off her neck. “What are you even listening to?”

“Hey—!” She shot up, grabbing for them, but the guy held them out of reach.

Damian was already moving.

His tray clattered as he stood, making his way over, voice sharp as a blade.

“Give them back.”

The boys turned, and their expressions shifted when they saw him.

“Wayne?” The leader of the group scoffed. “What, you babysitting the new girl?”

Damian tilted his head, gaze cold. “I said. Give them back.”

For a second, they hesitated. Then, with a forced chuckle, the guy tossed the headphones back onto the table. “Relax, man. We were just messing around.”

Damian didn’t respond. Just stood there, staring them down until they got the message and walked off.

Silence.

She slowly sat back down, picking up her headphones with a slight tremble in her hands. “…Thanks.”

Damian exhaled, sitting across from her. “You need to stand up for yourself.”

“I can stand up for myself just fine,” she muttered. “I just wasn’t expecting to get tag-teamed by three varsity-level jackasses before lunch.”

He watched as she fumbled to shove her headphones back in her bag. Her hands were still shaking.

Without thinking, he reached across the table and covered one with his own.

She froze.

His brain caught up a second too late.

This was… a mistake.

His fingers curled slightly before he withdrew his hand, clearing his throat. “They won’t bother you again.”

She stared at him, blinking rapidly, before giving a tiny, lopsided smile. “Guess having Gotham’s resident rich kid on my side has its perks.”

Something in his chest tightened.

He scowled. “Just eat your lunch.”

She grinned, and for some reason, he found himself looking anywhere but at her.

Title: Rooftops & Roll Call (Pt. 3)

By the time lunch was over, Damian had convinced himself that whatever weird feeling had settled in his chest was just residual annoyance. Nothing else.

But then came their next class.

History.

Damian had no particular fondness for the subject, but it was tolerable. What was quickly becoming intolerable, however, was his new desk partner’s apparent inability to sit still.

She tapped her pencil. Clicked her pen. Shifted in her chair every two minutes. And worst of all—she kept mumbling to herself under her breath, clearly not realizing how loud she was.

Damian shot her a warning glance. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

The teacher droned on about something irrelevant, and he forced himself to focus—until he heard her mutter:

“—seriously, how did Napoleon even fit all that ego into his tiny little body?”

Damian nearly choked.

Unfortunately, so did the student in front of them, who failed to suppress a snort of laughter.

The teacher paused mid-lecture, eyes narrowing. “Something funny?”

Silence.

Damian stayed perfectly still, waiting for her to take the out.

She did not.

Instead, she, for some reason, chose to double down. “I mean… yeah?”

A few students snickered.

Damian exhaled slowly.

The teacher folded his arms. “Since you seem so eager to share, why don’t you come up here and give the class a lesson on Napoleon, Miss…?”

“…Y/N.” She visibly shrank into her chair. “And, uh. That’s okay. I was just—”

“No, please. Educate us.”

Her eyes darted to Damian’s, panic creeping in. He gave her a deadpan look that very clearly said, You did this to yourself.

She hesitated—then made a choice that surprised even him.

She stood up.

Cleared her throat.

And loudly announced: “Napoleon was a tiny French guy with anger issues, and he was so mad about it that he tried to conquer Europe. The end.”

Silence.

Someone stifled a laugh.

The teacher’s eye twitched. “Out.”

“What—?”

“Out. Into the hall. Now.”

She sighed dramatically, grabbing her books and trudging toward the door like she was being sent to the guillotine. Before stepping out, she turned to Damian and muttered, “See you in exile, Wayne.”

The door clicked shut.

The classroom erupted into laughter.

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was definitely catching feelings, and he hated it.

Title: Rooftops & Roll Call (Pt. 4)

By the time the final bell rang, Damian was already exhausted.

Not because of school—Gotham Academy’s workload was nothing compared to League of Assassins training—but because of her.

After getting kicked out of history, she had returned to class completely unfazed, like public humiliation was just part of her daily routine. Then, for the rest of the day, she had proceeded to:

1. Nearly trip over her own feet in the hallway.

2. Drop her books twice during Calculus.

3. Accidentally lock herself in a janitor’s closet for five minutes before Damian found her.

She was a walking disaster. A liability. A menace.

And yet, for some stupid, irrational reason, Damian found himself glancing at her too often, making sure she wasn’t getting into any more trouble.

Now, as they stepped out of the school gates, he mentally prepared to say a quick goodbye and retreat to the Batcave.

But Gotham had other plans.

The same three seniors from lunch were leaning against the school fence, chatting amongst themselves. The moment they spotted her, they exchanged grins.

Damian already knew where this was going.

One of them stepped forward, fake-friendly. “Yo, new girl.”

She tensed. “Oh. Uh. Hey?”

The guy smirked. “Rough first day?”

She forced a chuckle. “You could say that.”

His friend snickered. “You really gonna survive here? You seem kinda… delicate.”

Damian scoffed. Delicate? She had nearly broken his wrist during a sparring match last week.

But she just gave a stiff shrug, obviously uncomfortable. “I’ll manage.”

The third guy grinned, eyeing her up and down. “You know, we could help with that. Show you around, make sure you don’t get too lost.”

The flirtation in his tone was obvious. So was her discomfort.

She forced a smile. “That’s, um. Nice of you, but I’m—”

“Oh, come on.” He stepped closer. “Don’t be shy.”

That was it.

Before she could react, Damian grabbed her hand.

Her eyes snapped to his, startled. “What—?”

He ignored her. “We’re leaving.”

The guys raised their eyebrows. “Damn, Wayne, didn’t know you had dibs.”

His grip on her hand tightened. “I suggest you shut up.”

That wiped the smirk off their faces.

Without another word, Damian pulled her away from the group, weaving through the crowd until they were blocks away from the school.

She stumbled to keep up. “Uh. Damian? Where are we going?”

“The manor.”

Her eyes widened. “The Wayne Manor?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

She huffed. “Oh, well, that clears everything up.”

But she didn’t let go.

And, for some reason, neither did he.

Title: Rooftops & Roll Call (Pt. 5)**

By the time they reached the manor, she was still slightly out of breath. Not from the walk—she was a vigilante, not some out-of-shape civilian—but from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Damian Wayne, the ever-composed, always-serious heir to the Bat, had just grabbed her hand and practically dragged her away from those guys.

Weird.

She didn’t hate it, though.

“Alright,” she exhaled, stepping into his enormous, ridiculously fancy home. “So, uh. What now?”

He was already heading toward the study, clearly expecting her to follow. “We work.”

“…On what?”

“Data,” he said simply, opening up his laptop at the desk.

Right. Vigilante stuff.

She plopped down beside him, pulling her chair closer. “What are we looking at?”

“Surveillance footage from last night. I’m compiling a report on the East End movement patterns.”

She nodded. “Cool, cool.” Then leaned in, peering at the screen.

A little too close.

Damian stiffened immediately.

She didn’t notice.

Her face was inches from his, and in her attempt to get a better look, she rested one hand on the desk for balance—accidentally pushing her chest forward.

Directly toward his face.

His entire body locked up.

Heat crept up his neck, spreading rapidly to his ears. He was keenly aware of how close she was, the scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her arm brushing against his.

This was not good.

“So, what are these heat signatures?” she asked, oblivious to the internal crisis happening right next to her.

Damian swallowed. Focus. Focus. “They—uh.” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. “They indicate recent activity.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, leaning in even further.

He swore his soul nearly left his body.

“You okay?” she asked, glancing at him.

His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head. “You look kinda… flustered.”

“I am not—” He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. “—flustered.”

She narrowed her eyes, skeptical. Then, as if finally realizing their proximity, she pulled back slightly. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to invade your space.”

Too late. The damage was done.

She went back to studying the screen, completely unaware that Damian had turned bright red and was currently struggling to remember how to breathe.

This was definitely a problem.

Title: Rooftops & Roll Call (Pt. 6)**

After their “data session”—which Damian would not be thinking about ever again—she had somehow convinced him to spar.

Which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

Not because she was unskilled. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Damian was still hyper-aware of her presence in a way he absolutely should not be.

It was irritating. Distracting.

And to make things worse, Dick was here.

“Come on, little bro,” Dick grinned, leaning against the wall of the training room. “I didn’t know you sparred with friends.”

Damian scowled. “I spar with worthy opponents.”

“Aw, so she’s worthy?”

His eye twitched. “Leave.”

She chuckled, stretching her arms. “It’s fine. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Dick smirked, but said nothing.

They squared up in the center of the mat, circling each other.

Damian made the first move—fast, controlled. She dodged smoothly, ducking under his arm before aiming a strike at his side. He blocked it easily, countering with a sweep kick that she barely avoided.

She was good.

Which made it worse.

Because every time she moved, his brain unhelpfully reminded him of how close they were, how easily their bodies slotted into the fight.

This was fine. He could handle this.

Until Dick—the absolute menace—decided to interfere.

Just as Damian lunged forward, Dick nudged his back.

It wasn’t enough to send him flying, but it was enough to throw him off balance.

Which meant that instead of executing a perfectly clean strike—

He collided into her.

And they fell.

Hard.

Damian landed directly on top of her, his hands barely catching the mat on either side of her head.

Her very startled face was inches from his.

He could feel her breath.

The world froze.

And then—

The door opened.

“What is going on here?”

Bruce’s voice.

Damian’s soul left his body.

Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head.

Bruce stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Dick, the traitor, was dying laughing in the background.

Damian opened his mouth—

She beat him to it.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

She blinked. “…Actually, I don’t know what it looks like, but whatever it is, it’s not that.”

Damian groaned.

This was an absolute nightmare.

Title: Rooftops & Roll Call (Pt. 7)**

Damian was never going to recover from that.

Bruce hadn’t said anything after she scrambled to her feet, face red, and sputtered out an explanation that only made things worse. But the look he gave Damian before walking away had been enough.

Even hours later, lying in his bed, Damian was still fuming.

Not at her.

Not at Bruce.

But at Dick.

That traitor was probably still laughing about it.

Damian sighed, staring at the ceiling. He needed to sleep.

He couldn’t.

After thirty minutes of lying there, completely restless, he finally got up and made his way downstairs.

And, as if the universe wasn’t already testing his patience, he wasn’t alone.

She was on the couch, curled up under a blanket, scrolling through the Batcave’s movie selection on the giant screen.

She looked up when he entered. “Can’t sleep?”

He exhaled. “No.”

She hummed. “Same.” Then she patted the seat next to her. “Wanna watch something?”

He hesitated.

Then, against his better judgment, sat down.

She grinned, clicking on some random action movie. “Figured this was a safe bet. Nothing romantic, no awkward tension, just things exploding.”

Damian huffed. “Good.”

Twenty minutes in, he wasn’t even paying attention to the movie anymore.

He was paying attention to her.

The way she curled into the blanket, the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against her thigh, the way she chewed on her bottom lip whenever the characters were in danger.

His pulse picked up.

This was ridiculous. He needed to say something.

Before he could stop himself, the words were already coming out.

“I like you.”

She stiffened. “Uh. What?”

He turned fully toward her, voice steady. “I like you.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “Oh.”

She blinked. “That’s… um.”

She shifted awkwardly, clearly panicking.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re overthinking.”

“I am not—”

He cut her off by kissing her.

She made a surprised noise against his lips, her body going completely still for a moment.

Then, just as she started to kiss back—

He smirked, brushing his lips against hers.

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

Her breath hitched.

And just like that, her brain short-circuited.

#dc #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #damian wayne #fluff #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n

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janiehellion · 7 months ago

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𝐓𝐫𝛐𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Daryl Dixon knew better than to challenge you, yet the thrill of breaking the rules was too tempting to resist. He let you play your game—by his own rules—because certain forbidden lessons in trouble were just meant to be learned.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Blowjob ⋮ Cunnilingus ⋮ Teasing ⋮ Rough Sex ⋮ Taboo

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 5.350 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: Teacher AU 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Student!Reader

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚: @mikes-babygirl

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

You walked into the room, already preparing yourself for another boring day at college. It wasn’t that you hated college exactly—it was just more of the same, day after day. You threw your bag next to your desk and sat down in your seat, scrolling through your phone while the other college students started to get ready for class.

But then you looked over to the door.

Of all people to be teaching today—it was him. Mr. Dixon. Just your luck. You’d always had a problem with this guy. Sure, he was good-looking—annoyingly good-looking, actually—but that just made it worse. Someone that hot shouldn’t have the right to be such a pain in the ass. And the constant lecturing like he knew everything? He had that whole "I’m smarter than you!" attitude, and it drove you crazy.

He hadn’t done anything yet, but just the sight of him was enough to piss you off.

And as soon as he started the lesson, talking and gesturing around, you immediately zoned out.

It just didn’t matter.

You were more focused on how he stood there, acting like he had everything under control and looking all arrogant. You hated that. And there was no way you were just going to sit through this class quietly.

So you raised your hand slowly.

"Yeah?" Mr. Dixon turned to you, raising an eyebrow in that way that made you want to punch his face.

You shrugged, leaning back casually. "Just wondering... what’s the point of all this? I mean, history? It’s not like we need this for our major. This has nothing to do with what we're actually studying."

He looked irritated but kept his cool. Of course he did. "It’s 'bout understandin' why the world works the way it does—no matter what field you’re in."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, right. Like learning this bullshit is gonna pay my bills."

A few students laughed, but Mr. Dixon's expression didn’t change. "The point of learning history is to understand how people like ya keep makin' the same mistakes—and why they're still broke."

"Sounds like a waste of time," you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He paused, staring at you for a moment longer than necessary, so you leaned forward, looking into his eyes as if daring him to say something else. He wouldn’t. He knew better.

Daryl sighed loudly and continued with the lesson, but you weren’t done. Throughout the class, you kept at it—making comments or sighing dramatically in annoyance every time he explained something.

At one point, you put your feet up on the desk, pushing your chair back lazily. "Seriously, Dixon, can we speed this up? Some of us have better things to do."

His eyes looked toward your legs, then back to your face, but he didn’t say anything. He was trying hard to keep his cool.

With a yawn, you stretched your arms over your head, and as time went on, you decided to continue.

"So, Dixon," you said loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Ever thought about getting a real job instead of just playing teacher?"

This time, he paused. Really paused.

You knew you’d provoke him eventually, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to react.

But instead, he just gave you a small, almost unnoticeable smirk. "Careful, ya might just find out I’m more qualified than ya think."

Your heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

In one way or another, you spent the rest of class barely paying attention, since something about that smirk he gave you before had pissed you off more than usual.

As soon as the bell for the break rang, you waited near the classroom door, pretending to chat with a few friends until he left the room as well. Once the hallway was empty and everyone was out of sight, you slipped back in.

First, you walked up to his desk, staring at the pile of papers he's left there. It was all so organized, so... proper. You hated it. With one quick move, you knocked the papers to the floor, scattering them all over the place.

Your eyes then landed on his bag on the chair behind the front desk. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it and looked through it. There were a few personal items still inside—a notebook, some other papers, and a lighter.

"A smoker, huh?"

You then looked through the notebook. There were random notes, lesson plans, and other things you didn’t even care about, but something about it being his made you want to ruin it. Without hesitating, you ripped out the pages, tearing them apart.

"Not enough..."

You grabbed the lighter, turning it on, before you held it to some of the torn-out pages, watching it burn for a few more seconds before dropping it onto the pile of papers on the floor, while making sure the windows were open to avoid triggering the smoke alarm.

Anything to piss him off.

And just as you were about to leave, your eyes landed on his coffee mug, which he's left behind. That stupid mug he always carried around. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it, throwing it against the wall, and before anyone could catch you, you slipped back out of the room, blending in with the crowd of other college students outside, acting like nothing had happened.

Soon, the break was almost over, but the classroom was still empty. Mr. Dixon walked in first, and the second he saw the mess, his eyes widened—papers torn and burned, the broken coffee mug on the floor... He didn’t say anything; he just stood there, taking it all in.

"Ugh… Really?" He mumbled to himself. "Yer testing me, huh? Alright then."

He walked around the room slowly, closing the open windows and getting rid of the chaos you'd left behind.

"Ya want my attention?" He said quietly, almost like he was talking to you even though you weren’t there. "Ya sure as hell got it."

He should’ve been pissed, but there was something that made him more curious than angry.

Now, he quickly straightened up as he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. He watched the door, waiting for you to walk back in, knowing full well what you’d done.

The college students soon began walking back into the room, and you were one of the last to come in, casually late, throwing yourself into your chair while your eyes looked to Mr. Dixon, standing at the front, but... with no hint of anger.

His eyes soon met yours for a second—just long enough to make your heart race—but then he looked away again.

"Alright," he began, "we’re gonna continue with something different now."

He walked to the front of his desk, grabbing a stack of books he'd brought with him to the classroom—Divided Loyalties. He held one up, flipping through the pages and then passing them out. As you grabbed your copy, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. American Revolution? Really?

"This play's 'bout a family torn apart by their opposing views," he explained, walking slowly in front of the board. "Patriots, loyalists, people choosing sides. The family in this play has to decide where their loyalty lies—what side of history they wanna be on. Some of 'em follow, others... they go with what’s expected. Either way, their choices split 'em apart."

He didn’t say it outright, but you felt it. He picked this damn play on purpose.

You tapped your fingers on your copy of the book, half-listening to him, half-lost in your thoughts. It was like he was waiting for you to make a move. But what move exactly?

"The point of this," he said, moving around again, "is that sometimes we get pulled in two directions. Loyalties get tested. But what matters is whether or not ya own yer choices."

That last line felt like it was meant just for you. There it was again—that feeling. Unspoken, electric. Like you both knew exactly what was happening between the two of you, but neither of you wanted to admit it.

He stepped away, continuing with his explanation about the play.

"Ya know," he continued, leaning back against his desk, arms crossed again. "A lotta people thought on either side they were just troublemakers. Pissin' off each other, causin' problems... all 'cause they couldn’t keep their mouths shut." His eyes looked to yours again, almost like a challenge.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the book, but his voice, his presence—it was all too distracting somehow. He knew exactly what he was doing. And it was working.

One of the students sitting a couple of rows over raised their hand. "Mr. Dixon, did you ever have to deal with that? Like, divided loyalties? You seem like you know what that feels like."

He paused, smirking a bit, but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he was looking almost amused. "What makes ya say that?"

The student shrugged. "I dunno, just the way you talk about it. It’s like you’ve been through some stuff and things yourself."

"Let’s just say I’ve seen my share of... divided loyalties." He glanced at the board. "But that ain't the point of the lesson."

Another student chimed in. "What did you do before teaching, anyway? You weren’t always here. You don’t seem like... a regular teacher."

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. "That’s because I’m not. Jus' a substitute, fillin' in until I finish my graduate program. I’m workin' toward my Master’s in Education. Right now, I'm here until the regular prof returns. Ya don’t have to worry; I ain't stickin' 'round forever."

Your curiosity was growing, though you’d never admit it. He didn’t fit the type of a normal professor at all, and now it was obvious why. He wasn’t one. Well… Not really.

"Now, back to the lesson," he continued. "Troublemakers…" He said the word slowly, like he was testing it out. "Sometimes, trouble’s what shakes things up. Forces people to finally pay attention."

Your heart was racing faster and faster. He was toying with you, and you knew it. He was playing a game, and you hated how much it was getting under your skin. But part of you... part of you liked it. The push, the pull, the challenge between the two of you. He wasn’t like the other teachers who'd have scolded you by now. No, he was letting you come at him, daring you to make your next move and to fuck up.

And you couldn’t help but play along.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms with a bored look on your face. "It's just another pointless play to rot our brains with bullshit that we don't even need for our future."

He gave you a quick glare, but he was still rather unimpressed with your attitude. "If ya think it’s pointless, maybe ya ain't puttin' enough effort into understanding it."

"Effort?" You snorted and smirked. "The only effort I see is you trying to make us suffer with bullshit no one even gives a fuck about."

He narrowed his eyes at you, but he was still in control. "Perhaps if ya paid more attention, ya’d understand why this bullshit is still relevant."

"Relevant? Don’t make me shit myself," you snapped back, now leaning forward to rest your elbows on your desk.

The room was quiet, all eyes looking between you and Mr. Dixon, but no one else dared to say anything.

Daryl sighed, clearly fed up somewhere deep inside. "That’s quite a way to talk to a teacher."

"Yeah? But you aren't a real teacher, nor will you ever become a professor, so what are you going to do about it?" You shot back. "Get me suspended? From college? As if any prof would even do that! Or how about you give me detention? Oh wait, you’re already doing that with your shitty lessons."

He stepped closer to you, smirking as well. "Watch ya damn mouth an' shut it."

"Or what?" You taunted. "Are you going to make me?"

His eyes were burning into yours, and for a moment, it felt like there was something else there in them—something else than simple irritation and annoyance.

"Is that what ya want?" He asked, putting his hands into his pockets. "For me to give ya what yer askin' for?"

"Oh, please! Like that’s going to make any difference!" You laughed back at him, waving one hand in dismissal.

"Yer testing my patience," he answered, his voice still calm. "And yer 'bout to find out how far I’m willin' to go to get ya suspended, if that's what ya really want. Or maybe expelled. Even if this is college."

The room was dead silent, the other students watching with wide eyes and whispering to each other. But you didn’t care.

"Expelled, huh? Those are some serious words for someone who’s barely even qualified to be teaching," you smiled.

Daryl didn't respond immediately; he just stared at you with that still calm expression. Like he was holding back.

Finally, he took a step back. "Ya think this is a joke?"

You shrugged, yawning and smirking at him. "Well, I’m not exactly learning anything here, so yeah, it really is kinda funny."

But the smirk on your face faded the second he slammed his hands down loudly on your desk, making you jump.

"Enough!" He said, his voice only a growl.

You opened your mouth to snap back once more, but he cut you off before you could even speak.

"Detention," he continued. "After school. We’ll see how ya will act when there’s no one else 'round to laugh.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back, trying to seem unimpressed. "Fine. But I’m not scared of you, Dixon."

He walked back to the front desk, giving you one final look. "Ya will be."

The bell rang soon enough, and everyone else went to walk out of the room. You stood up slowly as well, watching Daryl write notes down on a paper at his desk like nothing had happened.

But that last glare? That look in his eyes? You couldn't think about anything else as the hours passed.

And now you had detention with him. Alone.

Detention had seemed more appealing than getting suspended or expelled, of course, especially from college by a substitute teacher who still didn't graduate himself yet, but it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for in one way or another. Mr. Dixon had made it clear you’d be staying after the lessons, and now here you were, sitting at the front of the room, waiting for him to show up.

The minutes ticked by until Mr. Dixon walked in, his face looking as neutral as ever.

"Well, well, well," he started as he stood near the door, closing it slowly. "I didn't think I'd actually be seein' ya here." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But here we are."

"Guess I just wanted to make it all a little more exciting for myself," you shot back.

He stepped closer, not invading your personal space but close enough. "Excitin', huh? Or just plain stupid?"

"Depends on who you ask," you replied, crossing your arms. "What’s next, more boring lectures? Another dumb play?"

"Maybe... or maybe I’ll find another way to keep your attention," he said, taking another step closer.

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right. As if you could keep me interested. You don’t scare me, Dixon; I've said it before, and I'll always say it again. Why? Wanna try me? I dare you to try."

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, the move sending adrenaline straight through your body in an instant. "Careful what ya wish for."

His eyes moved down to your lips, and for a short moment, you thought he might actually kiss you. But as fast as that thought came into your mind, you quickly pushed it away again.

"Maybe ya wanna find out how far I’ll go to teach ya a lesson," he challenged, his breath smelling like cigarettes.

"Maybe I do," you replied. "Or maybe I don't."

He let go of your wrist and walked back to the front desk, but the distance between you still felt nonexistent.

"And I don't care," he answered, setting the book from all those hours before down on the desk. "Yer going to reread Divided Loyalties again. I want ya to pay close attention this time. Maybe ya will finally learn, or at least shut up."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. "Like learning how to deal with your bullshit?"

He ignored the comment. "Start readin'. I’ll be gradin' some papers in the meantime."

You shrugged, picking up the book. But as you looked through the pages, an idea started forming in your mind. If Mr. Dixon wanted you to take this seriously, you were going to make it interesting—by your own rules.

You looked over at him, already busy with his grading. Perfect. You began to read aloud, but not in the way he might have hoped, interpreting the text in your own way and playing around with the words.

"Forsooth, thou hast a long and sturdy lance," you read, your voice now louder on purpose. "I’d wager it could penetrate any barrier with ease."

His head moved up and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, choosing to let you continue.

You pressed on as you read. "Verily, thy bedchamber is most inviting. I am most eager to partake in its pleasures."

You leaned back in your chair, watching him closely as you continued. "Our loyalty lies not just in our words, but in the way we... entertain each other behind closed doors."

His eyes looked at you again, and you could see the struggle on his face to keep his calm. It was clear you were getting under his skin, and you loved it.

You let out a rather quiet laugh, closing the book and stretching yourself. "You know, Mr. Dixon, I think I’m starting to understand the ‘divided loyalties’ part. Sometimes, it’s hard to stay loyal to something when there are so many... distractions."

Daryl raised an eyebrow with a small yet almost unnoticable smirk. "Okay, enough," he said. "Let me tell ya somethin'. In this room, I'm in charge. Ya will do as I say as long as I am yer teacher."

"Fine," you answered him through clenched teeth, glaring at him. "But let me tell you something as well, Dixon. In this room, I'm not going to just sit here and do shit! And I want something in return. Deal?"

Daryl leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. "And what exactly would that be?" He asked, his blue eyes looking at you with a frown.

"I want..." Your voice trailed off as you tried to find the right words. "I want... you," you finally said, the words surprising even yourself.

Daryl just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. "If ya wanna play that kinda game, then I'll play along. But only if ya agree to my terms."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart racing in your chest. This just got too real, even for your taste, but what were you expecting? You didn't know. But part of you wanted this as much as you tried to deny it. "Wait… What? What terms exactly? What…"

"First, this stays between us. No one can know about our... arrangement. Second, ya will do whatever I say, both in and outta this room. And third, ya will keep up with yer damn work from now on and calm down with yer shitty behavior."

You nodded slowly, feeling your pulse racing at the thought of what you're about to agree to. "Fine," you answered. "I accept your terms."

Daryl then moved towards you again. "Good," he said, reaching out to cup your chin with his hand. Then it happened. He leaned in closer once more. Your breathing stopped for a moment as his lips brushed against yours, teasing you with a hint of a kiss.

"Dixon," you breathed, half a protest and half a plea. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Shut up," he murmured against your lips before kissing them fully, his hands framing your face.

The kiss was intoxicating—all heat and urgency. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, feeling the world around you fade away while tasting nicotine on your tongue… and you wanted more.

"Yer gonna do everythin' I tell ya to do," he mumbled, his lips brushing lightly against your ear after he broke the kiss. "And if ya disobey me, there will be consequences. But I think ya know that by now, don't ya?"

You gasped as one of his hands moved away from your chin, along the side of your neck, before slipping beneath the collar of your shirt, grabbing it, and pulling you out of the chair toward the front desk.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling yourself already getting wetter with every passing second. "I know and I understand."

Daryl's grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly, and you let out a small moan. "Good," he said, smirking a little. "Now, ya better be gettin' down on yer knees."

You hesitated for just a moment before slowly sinking down onto the floor of the room, watching as Daryl undid the button of his pants. "Take it out," he commanded.

You reached out with trembling hands, fumbling around as you pulled his thick, hard cock out.

"Now, put it in yer mouth," Daryl said. "And don't ya dare bite down on it."

You smirked and leaned forward, wrapping your lips around the head of Daryl's cock and sucking gently while looking up at him. He let out a groan, his fingers holding your head and playing with your hair as he began to guide you and move his hips.

"That's it," he murmured. "Jus' like that. Suck it harder. Show me how much ya wanna be good again."

You obeyed his command, applying more pressure with your lips as you worked your way further down his swelling shaft. His breathing got more uneven, and you could tell just how much he was enjoying this already.

"Yeah, jus' like that," he said breathlessly, his hips beginning to thrust forward a little harder. "Oh fuck, yer so good at this."

You felt yourself getting even more turned on by his words and reached down between your legs, sliding your fingers inside your pants and beneath your panties, stroking gently at your swollen, aching clit.

Daryl must've sensed the change in your behavior because he suddenly pulled away from you, his cock slipping out from between your lips. "That's enough for now."

He reached down, helping you to your feet before leading you over towards the desk at the front of the room. He bent you over it, your tits and stomach pressed against the surface.

"Now, get those pants off and spread yer legs for me," he said. "I wanna see how wet ya are."

You obeyed his command again, parting your legs as wide as they'd go after pulling down your pants and panties. Daryl let out a growl as he took in the sight of your wet pussy, his fingers sliding over your wet folds.

"Oh shit, jus' look at how fuckin' wet ya are," he mumbled. "Ya really wan' it, don't ya? Since when, huh?"

You let out a gasp as Daryl's fingers found your clit. "Who knows?" You moaned quietly. "Maybe I did want you to fuck me all along."

Daryl didn't respond right away; instead, he continued to tease you with his fingers. "Good t'know," he finally said. "First, I wanna taste ya. I wanna feel that sweet lil' pussy against my tongue. But don't ya worry. I promise it'll be worth the risk."

With that, Daryl got onto his knees, with his head between your legs, his tongue moving out to make contact with your swollen, aching clit from behind, licking it and sucking at your folds, his tongue moving slowly on purpose.

"Oh fuck, Dixon," you moaned quietly again, your legs starting to tremble a little. "Right there. Yes..."

"Fuck, ya look so sexy like this," Daryl said and kept licking and sucking before sliding two fingers deep inside to pump them in and out of you a few times. "Ya taste so fuckin' good," he continued. "Could eat ya out all day an' night. But I wanna feel ya cum all over my cock next. Hell, I love how yer pussy looks when 's all wet an' ready for me," he mumbled, sliding his fingers out of you again.

You gasped softly, your hips bucking back, trying to meet his hand and face once more. "Hell, just... I need more," you pleaded, your voice shaking while you tried not to tremble too hard.

"Jus' wanted to make sure that yer wet an' ready for me 'fore I give ya what ya want," he said, gripping and stroking his hard, leaking cock.

"Dixon," you begged with a whimper. "Just fuck me already, okay?"

Daryl smirked, clearly unable to resist your begging any longer. "Alright, sweetheart," he answered, positioning himself between your legs before slowly pushing his cock inside you from behind. "I'm gonna make ya feel so fuckin' good, girl."

You let out a gasp again as his cock pressed up against your dripping wet pussy, tormenting you with the tip for several long moments, then sliding the thick, hard shaft of it back and forth over your wet folds, before he filled you up completely, his thickness stretching your pussy walls deliciously. "Jus' take it. Take every single inch of my cock deep inside ya."

You obliged eagerly, pushing back and pulling him even deeper inside you with each passing thrust, trying not to groan out loud at the feeling of being stretched and stuffed so deeply.

"Oh fuck, ya feel so damn good," he said, his fingers digging into your hips as he started to pound away at your pussy with a little bit more force. "Shit, I could fuck ya all the damn time an' never get tired of it."

"Oh, fuck yes!" You groaned in response as Daryl continued to thrust in and out of you.

As he soon fucked you harder and deeper, you could feel your orgasm building up inside you, threatening you to make you scream out loud.

"I'm so fucking close already," you panted as you held onto the edges of the front desk for dear life. "Please... don't stop! Don't fucking stop!"

"Oh shit," you moaned and whimpered as he continued to fuck you. "Harder, please, harder."

And Daryl didn't disappoint you. He fucked you hard, his cock pounding in and out of your pussy in quick, rapid thrusts.

"Ya wanted this, didn't ya?" He growled out. "Ya wanted me to fuck ya like this."

You nodded eagerly. "Yeah, shit, I did… I do!"

"Ain't gonna stop until I've made ya cum all over my cock, sweetheart," he said, increasing the speed, which immediately brought you to the edge like you've never experienced before.

"I'm cumming! Oh fuck, I'm cumming!" You whimpered, your entire body tensing up, and just as you thought, your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb, your pussy clenching around him, gripping his cock as if not wanting to let go. But Daryl didn't stop, even after you've finished.

And just as you were coming down from your orgasm, he suddenly pulled out, his breathing ragged. "I’m 'bout to cum," he groaned, wanting to finish himself off, and started to stroke his cock, ready to let go, but then you acted on instinct. You couldn't just let him finish without you, not like this.

Quickly, you dropped to your knees and took his cock back into your mouth, sucking him hard just as he began to cum, brushing your teeth ever so lightly over the throbbing shaft. Daryl let out a deep moan, surprise and shock written all over his face as he found himself clearly unable to resist.

You sucked his cock hard, moving your tongue around the tip before taking him as deep as you could. His hands immediately found your hair, urging you on, and you responded by increasing the pressure of your lips. "Oh fuck, jus' like that," he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of your mouth.

"Jus' a lil' more," he urged, his voice trembling, but you wanted to draw it out. You picked up your pace, pulling back fast just to tease him before taking him deep into your mouth again. You could feel his cock throb and pulse against your tongue, and you knew he couldn't hold back any longer.

Finally, he lost it. "I can’t—oh fuck!" He tried to keep his groans quiet as he began to cum, his warm load filling your mouth as you swallowed down every drop, refusing to simply let him cum all over you like he'd wanted to.

Once he was finished, you pulled away, but not before licking his shaft from the base to the tip once more and looking up at him with a smirk.

"Shit, ya really are one hell of a distraction," he mumbled, catching his breath and slipping his cock back into his pants with trembling hands.

You stood up, pulling your clothes back on as you caught Daryl’s eye. He suddenly seemed different now—annoyed, maybe? But you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

Daryl cleared his throat, straightening up and sitting down on the desk with a serious look on his slightly red face, while also trying to adjust his still half-hard cock in his pants. "This was a one-time thing. Got it?"

"Sure, just a one-time thing, Mr. Dixon," you replied innocently, but you couldn’t resist adding, "I mean, it’s not like I’ll ever forget a one-time lesson like this while having something as ridiculous as detention... but I bet reading Divided Loyalties won't be a one-time thing, isn't that right?"

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Yer such a damn troublemaker." Daryl shot back, crossing his arms over his chest as if he could shield himself.

You sat down on the edge of the front desk as well, pushing your luck further. "Maybe I really am. How else could I have gotten you to break the rules?" You bit your lip, watching the way his jaw tightened.

"Ain't 'bout that. Ya really need to get yer shit together, or I’ll have to start disciplinin' ya for real," he warned, but the look in his eyes betrayed him, showing you he was still fighting with the thoughts about what you both just did.

You couldn’t help but laugh all over again, rolling your eyes playfully. "You disciplining me? That’d just make me want to misbehave more. Besides, who would ever believe you? The hot substitute who gives other collegians detention and an extra special lesson? Sounds like something you only find in certain writings, if you ask me. So, don't shit your pants about it."

"This ain't a joke. I may not be a real teacher yet, but I have to follow the damn rules."

"Sure, but isn’t it fun to break the rules once in a while?" You asked to provoke him and leaned in. "Let’s be honest, Dixon. This was way more exciting than any discussion about Divided Loyalties."

His breath hitched, and for a short moment you could see the real man beneath again. But then he straightened up, shoving any emotions aside. "Get outta here. We’re done now."

"Sure… We’ll see about that." You grabbed your bag, trying to hold back a smile as you turned to leave. But just before closing the door, you glanced back over your shoulder at him. "Do not be fooled; I am but a mere troublemaker in thy class, yet my mischief will find thee again—so prepare thyself."

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brailsthesmolgurl · 1 year ago

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PUPPY LOVE?

Preview: You had always been the apple to their eyes. How would they express their affection towards you in highschool?

Warnings: I had to make it slight-slight-slight angsty hehe, teeth-rotting fluff for comfort for my beloved readers <3 btw readers and the boys are highschool kids in this one-shot so no suggestive or anything!

P.S: This idea came to me in the middle of the night and I knew I had to burn the midnight fuel to squeeze all of my brain juice for this piece :> Enjoyyy!

RAFAYEL

You lifted your head up when you heard a chair dragged against the tiled flooring. It came to a halt and down sat the lilac haired fellow, right in front of you, his chin propped on the back of his hand as he leaned down to look at you, a smirk hung on his thin lips. Rafayel. "Someone looked like they had a nightmare yesterday."

"It's none of your business." You furrowed your eyebrows, gaze turned towards the classroom door. More classmates are starting to walk in, greeting each other good mornings and immediately getting into their daily routines of catching up or gossiping. You, on the other hand, do not really belong to any 'gangs'. You find solace within your own bubble and occasionally, do hang out with your only friend, Tara.

The purple haired individual in front of you frowned, your answer unappealing to his taste. This young man sitting in front of you is the lucky charm of your school, and almost everyone dotes on him, headmaster, teachers and students alike. Both of his parents are renowned artists, comparable to Van Gogh and many other artists throughout history books and as expected, Rafayel inherited the same talent as his parents. Rich, handsome, charming and talented, he is basically a girl magnet.

"You do not have to be so rude you know." He stood up when he heard his name being called. Reaching into the pockets of his blazer, he took out two cheese sticks and placed it onto your table. "Here, have this. Your frown makes you look like a shriveled up prune. Some cheese sticks would probably do well for you." He chuckled teasingly and stepped out of your personal bubble, heading out of the classroom.

If glares could kill, you would probably be laying on the floor motionless by now. The cheese sticks that sat at your table were attracting unwanted attention from the girls in your class. You had absolutely no idea why Rafayel would always approach you. The attention you are receiving from him does not beat the attention other girls are getting as well, not that you cared but you just find it odd. A lone girl getting so much attention from the school's celebrity, what would the others think of it? Maybe he is just trying to be friendly. That always remains the reason to your question.

Here comes the other question. You do not think you like him, but why does your heart flutter whenever he is near you? Bidding you good morning and goodbye had became a part of a routine for the both of you. Why would your heartstrings tug whenever you find another girl initiating skinship with him? Why?

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Rinnnggggg. The bell rung, indicating the end of another school day. Students rushed out like ants out of the school premises, flooding the empty hallways. You packed your things, eyeing the time displayed by the clock. 3pm. It is the perfect time for you to go to the art room to practice some drawing. You may not be an artist like the talented Rafayel, but you still do have your own fascination towards drawing and sketching.

You walked in the direction opposite of the flow, passing through the crowd like a fish trying to swim upstream. As you were nearing the art room, someone knocked you over and you fell backwards, with your bagpack being your cushion as you landed back first onto the floor. You still winced upon impact. "Oh look, it's Rafy's pet." The girl that knocked you over crossed her arms, her blond curls tied up in a high ponytail. Oh, it's the school's flower girl, Jarianne, but you guessed it. She is nowhere carrying the aura of a flower.

Sighing, you pushed yourself off of your back, not even having the thought to fight back. "Know your place would you?" Jarianne spoke, studying her oval shaped painted nails. "Rafy might give you cheese sticks every once in a while, but that does not mean anything. Don't get your hopes up, okay sweetie?" Huffing a smile, the mean girl strutted off, leaving you calculating your next steps.

Shrouded with anger, you got up and made your way towards the art room. You are ready to splash some paint onto the canvas, wanting to express your anger in a much more 'healthier' form. She was right. Who are you to be engaged with Rafayel. Someone who is a loner like you should not be in any way associated with someone of such a high status like him. You are halfway at being disappointed at yourself until you slide the door opened and you saw Rafayel in the art room.

He looked ethereal, basked in the warm light of the sun in the midst of a cloudy afternoon, his lilac hair slightly tousled on his head. His back was facing you, but you could tell with the way his paintbrush moved across the canvas with grand gestures, he is painting yet another masterpiece. Part of his uniform, the dark blue blazer and white collared shirt was messily tossed onto one of the desks nearby, and he is left in his black t-shirt. Right when you are about to leave, his head snapped around and he caught sight of you standing in the doorway with beady eyes. "Finally, you're here." Framing himself to be waiting for you this whole time. Well, he was.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you." You consciously tucked a stray strand of your brunette curls behind your ear, your face immediately turning red when you realised that you may have taken a bit longer then usual to be staring at the young man. "I'm gonna go." You turned and immediately started jogging down the hallway.

"Wait! Wait!" Rafayel called out for you, yet, you did not bother to turn back. All you could hear was the sounds of chairs creaking and a loud thud, followed by hurried footsteps.

You turned a corner and slid yourself into an empty classroom to catch your breath. When you sat yourself down, the door slid right open and Rafayel presented himself, huffing and panting as he bent himself down to slow his breaths. You were shocked of course, that he would run down the halls for you. Jarianne's words rang through your head like an alarm and it filled you with more regrets.

"You should stop talking to me." You clenched your fist, standing up, getting ready to leave. "We are not friends to begin with, so we should keep it that way." When you walked past him, he gripped your wrist and you gasped in response. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you actually..." He took in a huge breath and straightened his posture, now eyes meeting yours. "Are you actually so naive?"

"Look, I don't know what you are trying to do Rafayel, but I am not interested in whatever you are going to say. Just leave me alone." You pulled your wrist out of his grip but it only prompted him to hold your wrist tighter. "Leave me be!"

You slipped, and he grabbed you by your waist, underestimating the strength of his before he stumbled backwards and you ended up pressing him against the wall. The both of you had the same expression, widened eyes and flushed cheeks. Tension immediately started pumping into the air, causing your body to tense up. "Are you upset?" He broke the silence between you two, leaning down closer to you to inspect your face. "I had never seen you getting so mad before."

MAYBE. JUST MAYBE. A part of you do like him, you liked that he would only greet you in the morning and when you leave home, you liked that he would offer to teach you art anytime you wish, you liked that sometimes he would ditch his friends just to come and sit with you during recess. But, Jarianne was right. You always have this part of you that refused to accept the fact that you do indeed, like Rafayel. Just like all of the other girls out there. It's just that you are nothing special at all. You will be regarded as any other fan girl of his.

Hesitation laced in your voice. "I just don't think someone like you should be spending time with someone like me Rafayel." Your gaze dropped, feet shuffled against the floor beneath, watching the dust particles flying up into the air.

He clicked his tongue, but remained still. "You have not answered my question. Why do you think I go out of my way to talk to you everyday hmm?" Your silence was met with the continuation of his thoughts. "That's because I like you, y/n."

Your breath hitched in your throat when he confessed to you and you nervously took a step back to put more space in between the both of you. "Don't." His arms snaked around your waist and he reeled you in, nose tips almost touching. It took you a while to only realise that Rafayel is red like a tomato, the confession of his happen to be genuine afterall. His blushing expression is a sight to behold. Just like in a watercolour painting, all of the colours are harmonised, his purplish, tousled soft curls that sat on top of his head framed the outline of his carved facial shape well, with scarlet red lightly dabbed across his pale cheeks, giving the illusion of his eyes sticking out like magenta gemstones on a iridescent rubicund-white marble complexion. "I really do like you y/n."

"Why?" That is the only question you can mutter out of your mouth. You sounded dumb for a second but you would like to find out what he deemed special about you.

You can sense his nervousness when his eyes started darting everywhere and his arms withdrew from your waist. "I...You're...Uhm..." He is clearly struggling with his words. "You are different. You do not find the need to please me or to catch my attention." His words were spoken slowly and precisely, calculated even. "I like you because of the way you are, y/n. You are not like the other girls. Sometimes, when I look at you, I wanted to sketch a drawing of you, but I couldn't, because that's how alluring you are to me. No drawings could achieve that."

The way he phrased his affection towards you, was nothing of confidence but only of his vulnerability. Five years throughout his secondary days, you always regarded him to be the embodiment of confidence, carrying himself well has always been a gestalt of his. But today, you do not find that in him, all you see is this young man stumbling over every single word, self-doubt equivalent to yours hinted in his tone. He does not see himself to be worthy of you, just like you do not think you are worthy to him. The thought of it ached your heart.

"Rafayel. I...I never knew you liked me." Reaching your hands up, you patted his shoulders awkwardly, not really knowing where to position your hands. "I thought you just wanted to tease me and push me around like a plaything."

"The audacity to say that." He scoffed, face scrunched up like a shriveled prune he had mentioned to you earlier. "I don't like keeping the people I like as pets or any derogatory words you may think of, you know?" The sight of you holding onto his shoulders, eyes widened made him smile, one of his hand lightly patting the top of your head. Rafayel notices the way your lips would wobble the slightest when you tried to alleviate your own anxiety, convincing him further that you do possess the same feelings as him. He only has to figure out how to make you believe that he is not messing with your feelings and how to not escalate this sweet moment into a dramatic and awkward mess. "I don't want you to be accusing me of something so lowly anymore, yeah? Promise me?"

"But... what would people say when they see..." You gestured between the two of you, head already coming up with all sorts of accusations that would be thrown towards the both of you. "Us together? I don't want to trouble you..."

"They can say anything, but we can treat it as nothing y/n." He ran his hand down to your cheek, cupping your small face in his palm now, your face slowly warming up in his palm. "In the end, I chose you. It is only right for them to be jealous." He smiled leisurely, confidence resurfacing again. "So, would you date me y/n?"

Gnawing onto your lip, you nodded your head and looked down. You had only seen this in romance shows, where lip kisses are supposed to happen after confessions do. But you felt his soft lips collided against your forehead and your heart released sparks of fire uncontrollably. You are screaming internally as if you had won the lottery. As he pulled back, you raised your head up to glance at his facial features. Rafayel is beaming, hand still placed on the side of your cheek. As if it was cued, he managed to answer your question before you could even ask. "I will not kiss your lips until you allow me to, yeah? I will always wait until you're ready, as I respect---"

Wrong question, but does not beat the fact it was relevant to what you were initially going to ask him. Something along the lines of ‘whether are we going in for the kiss’. You decided to act upon your decision. Closing the short distance between you two, you planted your lips onto his, swallowing his uncertainty to fuel your bravery for the upcoming challenges you will have to face for being Rafayel's girl.

ZAYNE

"So, for this experiment, find someone you can pair up with to write a report based on your findings." Miss Akko instructed, placing the chalk onto her large wooden desk and scanning the crowd for any blank slates. "If you have any questions, you can always come and find me for consultations."

You looked towards the guy sitting next to you, Zayne. Ballpoint pen held in between his long fingers, gliding swiftly against the paper to create a neat yet slanted handwriting. Altough the class had ended, you could tell that he is still very much in his zone, jotting down whatever the teacher had mentioned earlier. If he could record it, you believe that would be the most viable way for him to stay on top of his grades all of the time. His posture relaxed when the last bell of the day rung. "Hey." You called out to him and he turned his head to face you. "Would you like to pair up? For the experiment?"

You had paired up with him for a few times for chemistry class. Being with the smartest kid does earn you a few perks, but he is not much of a talker so sometimes doing assignments with him would result in a crow-cawing awkwardness. "Sure." He nodded his head once and started gathering his reading materials into a pile while standing up.

Zayne has always been a man of a few words. Nodding is his most useful reaction whenever you ask him of something that he is borderline interested in. But if he does not agree with you, then he shall give you the stare that would make you question yourself about the absence of an answer from him. "When do you plan to do---"

"I will see you after class tomorrow." He cut you off, zipping his bag up and pulling it over his broad shoulders effortlessly. "Remember to bring your brain." OOF, COLD. It most likely explains why nobody would usually pair up with Zayne. More like he just refuses to.

Zayne was best known for his good looks and big brain but other than that, he does not have an appealing personality that makes him desirable among girls. Good to admire from afar but not good to interact with. Ever heard of the trend 'He is a 10 but...' . Yeah, that is Zayne's title trend. Only to people who has been in close contact with him. Yeah, he could be a dick with how straightforward he is but you find it as an admirable trait of his. He stabs people with his words, with truths that nobody would dare to say and maybe, you do secretly like him for the way he is.

“Come on Zayne, it’s not like I don’t study or help out with the reports for the past few times.” You rebutted, palms faced upwards and eyebrows knitted closely together. Zayne stood in his spot, expressionless face hiding his amusement. “So I do have a brain!”

He turned towards the direction of the door and started making his way out, not without giving his last statement. “Says the one who can’t even score a decent C grade.” There you stood, in the empty classroom, choked onto the curse words that you were about to throw at him when you heard his statement but you are sure with his lanky legs, he would have been out of earshot by now.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

TAP TAP TAP TAP… Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, reverberating through the empty classrooms. You were late for the meeting with Zayne because you had forgotten to bring your lunch to school today so you ended up having to run down to the vending machine to grab some quick bites. The machine however, betrayed your trust, the ultimate cliche move anyone can think of putting into a filler clip for a movie, when the snack gets stuck during the retrieving period purely because of the vending machine error. You could have easily gotten in trouble if anyone were to spot you with your whole arm shoved into the machine just to grab the item you had literally paid for.

The door slammed open with force and you were greeted with the sight of Zayne in the classroom. With a girl bent halfway down right next to him. You recognised her immediately, the long blond hair with forest green eyes, milky pale skin with a smile that could make anyone faint upon seeing it. She is the school’s student president, Nyla. The both of them perked their heads up, reacting to the sound of the door being slammed opened only to see you standing in the doorway, face flushed from the heat, holding onto your snacks in your hand. “Hey y/n.” The student president grinned, her pearly whites nearly blinded you. “Do you mind giving us some time? We have some personal matters to settle.” Not only does she look pretty, she has a pleasing attitude too? Just great. Pursing your lips, you nodded and went out the same way you came in, sliding the door closed behind you in a more polite manner this time.

“I still can’t believe that you are working on an assignment with her.” Nyla huffed, pushing her hair back with her fingers as she bent down next to Zayne again, staring at his notebook. Nyla had initially wanted to meet up with Zayne regarding the discussion for the upcoming school festival that will be held but eventually, she turned it into her personal chat session with Zayne. “Is she a freeloader most of the time?”

“No.” Zayne replied. “She does her part as I do for mine.” Zayne, at this point had already caught note on what Nyla is trying to do. Provoking a conversation out of him when he is late for the initial assignment arrangement with you bothers him. “I think you had already gotten all of the answers you needed for the school festival.”

“But, I would like to get to know you too.” Nyla sat herself onto the side of his desk, manicured fingers fanned herself in an attempt to cool herself down. “Say, how about we try to go out for a little bit hmm?”

The raven haired young man did not even spared her a glance, eyes focused on his handwritings. “Zayne, come on. Smarty pants with a cute face like you dating me would be the talk of the school for weeks to come.” The pitch of her voice heightens at the end of her sentence and Zayne sighed in frustration. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

“I am not interested in being your pawn.” He glanced at her and her smile faltered, alongside her confidence. “Nor do I find the necessity to feed into the delusions of yours.” The indifference shown on his body language gave her the conclusion she did not expected from him. Her pretentious ‘girl-next-door’ attitude no longer on display. The anger of a spoiled child who gets whatever they want seeped through and she raised her palm, ready to land it onto his cheek but he caught it right before it touches his cheek. “I wouldn’t do it to someone who believes in gender equality.”

Nyla withdrew her hand, strings of curse words falling out of her lips as to save herself from embarrassment and she left the classroom. The young man sat in the room, staring at the new page he had just flipped over on his notebook and he noticed the drawing of a stick man next to the page number. The stick man appeared to be holding onto the number 6 like a hockey stick and the 0 being reimagined as a puck. His lips pulled into a small smile, flashing back to the time when you tried to be sneaky when he was out of the classroom during one of your past assignment pairings, conducting this tomfoolery on his notebook and quickly returning everything back to its original position. But he saw it all, from the crack of the door when he was about to enter the empty classroom. He finds your childlike behaviour amusing after all.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“We are done talking.” You stared up, the blinding sunlight immediately getting shielded by Zayne’s opaque outline. You squinted your eyes narrower only to find that Zayne has his hand stretched out to you, given you are in a seated position. “We should get started on our assignment.” You took his hand and he pulled you up, the sheer size of his palm wrapped around your whole hand easily.

“Here.” You reached your hand into the pocket of your uniform and pulled out a small box of chocolate cookies. “This is for you. It fell out when I was trying to grapple for my sandwich.”

Zayne took the box into his hands, contemplating on the way you got it. “Did the vending machine got stuck again?” Your nod made him smiled a little. “If it gets stuck again next time, you can just ask me to get it for you.”

His sudden suggestion nearly made you choked on the last bite of your egg and cheese sandwich. It is hard to believe he would come out all of the way here to find you, let alone making small talk and telling you that you can ask him to solve your troubles whenever you please? But your dumb brain only believe that he was only trying to be helpful and he is merely thanking you for bringing him a snack. “So what did you guys talk about?” You could not help but to ask as the both of you slowed down your steps to be in sync with one another.

“She wanted me to go out on a date with her.” You were lucky you had finished your sandwich, or else this sentence would have sent you into full on choking mode. You did expect Nyla to ask him out to a certain extent given his popularity, but you were caught off guard that he was even willing to share the details about what had went on behind those closed doors earlier. “I told her that there is not a need to waste her time.”

Hm? You stopped in your footsteps and turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” Your lips had blurted out the sentence before your mind is in control and you swallowed the instant regret of the question. Zayne too, stopped in his footsteps and he looked at you, his hazel green orbs stood out more like a lush forest under the blazing sun above your head. When he took a step towards you, your heart lurched, eyes scanning the surroundings for anyone present.

“I already have someone on my mind.” Zayne closed the distance between the both of you. Within arms length, Zayne reached his right hand outwards and held your cheek. An immediate gasp could be heard, the pace of your heartbeat quickened, so as your breath. You could hear your own heartbeat in your head. It does not take a genius for one to unravel who he likes. You stood in front of him, drinking in his gaze that had softened for one of the very few times, and this time he did not snap his head away immediately. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek, soothing the spreading redness that is a result of your realisation regarding his point.

Your eyes lit up and your jaw slacked, eyes frantically searching for a joke within his eyes but when you found no ill intention, you amounted to satisfy your curiosity. “Why…why me?”

His thumb slid down to your jawline, and stopped at your chin. Raising it up just enough for his eyes to be looking into yours and you gulped nervously when he closed the distance between the both of you. He smiled, lips tugged up slightly on both corners because all these while, he knew that the both of you have the same feelings for one another, but he just never really have the opportunity to be alone with you, till now. "You will find out soon enough." Leaning down, Zayne pressed his lips softly against yours to present his confession to you, stealing your first kiss away.

XAVIER

The countdown in your head never fails you. When the minute hand hits 12 on the clock, the bell rung, the teacher looked up from the book he was holding, glasses slid down his nose slightly as he realised his class period had came to an end. "Remember your homework kids. I will see you next week." He announced as the students all got up in sync, bowing and thanking the teacher for his teaching efforts.

As you landed your bum back onto your chair, you heard someone calling your name and your head turned towards the source of the sound. The blond bloke named Xavier sauntered over to you, his eyelids still half closed. "Hey, you going over for the fencing extracurricular later?"

"Yeah I am. Why?" You asked him nonchalantly, all while clearing your items off of the table and placing them into your bagpack. When you do not hear his response, your hands rested on your bag and you looked up at him, squinting your eyes. "Wait. You plan to skip it don't you?"

Xavier's eyes widened and his light eyebrows arched upwards. "What, no. I just..." His right hand reached up to rub the nape of his neck. "I just thought we could walk there together if you'd like."

Sighing in relief you smiled and nodded, pulling your bagpack over your back. You had forgotten to arrange the books you have to bring today hence the load of your bag became a deadweight and it nearly sent you rolling onto the ground. Xavier caught you on time before your face gets planted onto the tiled ground. "Careful. Here, let me help."

"Thanks." The blond young man easily took your bagpack off of your back, slinging it over the side of his shoulder that has his messenger bag hung onto. With the weight of fingerpads pressed against your arm, you flushed red when you realised that he had not released his hold on you. Catching your sight, he trailed it down to your arm and he released his grip, equally embarassed at how long the skinship lasted.

Truth is, you and Xavier are somewhat at the level of best friends. The both of you share the same classes and same taste for food, alongside same extra curricular activities. But recently, you started feeling more and more abashed around him. You would consciously want to look good in front of him; either it be tucking your hair behind your ears, chuckling gently instead of laughing like a troll, ironing your clothes to make it look pressed and neat. You are like becoming a whole different person just for him. But it is not necessarily for the bad.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Clank, Clink, Clank Clank. The sounds of the blades grinding against one another created screeches and clinking, which are not the right music for the ears. You sat a couple of meters away from the mat, eyeing Xavier clad in the metallic polyester jacket that is overlain with a thin, interwoven steel strands in between to provide him protection. Lamés is the right term for the protective gear on his torso. Gasps and mutters could be heard echoing in the huge hall, judgements and commentaries thrown around as the showdown between Xavier and his opponent has been relatively entertaining.

The whole nine minutes, both of the fencers has been extremely aggressive, parrying and lunging against one another whenever an opening is spotted. The race to land 15 touches on the opponent make it an extremely fast and deft sport. The both of them had equated to 14 touches each and this last touch would determine the winner. The referee stood in middle, arms raised midway to insinuate the start of the tie-breaker round. "Pret? Allez!"

The blades then ensued, waving in the air. "Halt." It was called out in two seconds and both of the opponents backed up, standing still in their spots. Your heartbeat thumped, the last you saw was the both of their blades touched both of their respective opponent's foil. It is hard to determine who is the winner. The referee was seen walking over to Xavier and he spoke. "Parrying then riposte, point-in-line is perfect and that forward extension of yours is worth the risk." He grabbed Xavier's arm and raised it, everyone in the hall cheered as Xavier removed his headgear and grinned, eyes landing onto you.

You smiled back, proud that he had manage to win the competition. You stood up when he walked off of the platform, wanting to congratulate him but Chiara beat you to it. "Xavier! You did so well!" The girl bounced over, her curls bounced to her footsteps' rhythm as well. "Oh my god, that was such a fight."

"Thanks." Xavier smiled and she grabbed him by his neck, throwing herself into his arms and you were stunned at her boldness. Xavier however, did not seem fazed as his arms raised up to pat her back. Chiara may just be an amiable individual but your mind abnegated that possibility and only opened its chamber doors to jealousy.

In a disconsolate, nervous manner, you turned and proceeded to walk out of the hall. Your heart thumped hard against your chest like booming speakers in an EDM concert. It also caused a lump to form in your throat. It hurts. Something about her just greeting and hugging him so casually made her wonder why did he never told you about his girlfriend before? He is already mysterious enough but at this point, it felt like a betrayal to you. But then again, he does not owe you that favour to tell you about his dating life if he does not wish to say anything.

Finding a cosy corner next to the herb garden that belonged to the Plant Society, you sat down at the side of the curb and amused yourself with the view of butterflies twirling around blooming flower petals. Amongst the weeds, Magnolia blossoms are most of the denizens found within the small patch of ground. Time passed by, perhaps around a couple of minutes and you heard hurried footsteps in the background but you were too engrossed with the butterfly landing onto a magnolia's carpels that you did not bother to turn around.

"Y/n." Xavier called out. "I had been searching everywhere for you." You turned your head slowly, stopping with only half of your face visible to him. "Did you noticed me winning just now?" "Yeah I did." You pushed yourself off of the curb, dusting the dirt off of your dark skirt and you faced him, gaze catching his chest rather than his cerulean orbs. "In fact, I saw Chiara went up to hug you." Your pout although not shown, it was obvious to Xavier. You are jealous.

He stepped forward and wrapped his lanky arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You were bewildered. In his arms, feeling his warmth spreading to your body and his scent swathed you, he smells like clean sheets and a bubble bath. Perhaps from his change of clothes. "I'm sorry." He spoke, breath batting against the nape of your neck. "I should have rejected her hug right then and there."

"It's okay Xavier, I didn't know you have a girlfriend." You were quick to address your hesitation, ready to take a step back from him but his hold around you tightened, not allowing you to leave his arms.

"She isn't. She isn't my girlfriend, y/n." He slowly pulled back, arms now moved to rest on your shoulder. For a moment, a gleam of wary was ready to surface but Xavier was quick to put out that emotion of his. "I don't think of her anything more than a friend. Unlike you."

Confusion clouded you like a misty apparition above your head. "What about me?" Your index finger pointed towards yourself. "What do you mean by 'unlike me'."

"I like you." His gaze unwavering, genuine intentions full on display. "I had liked you for a very long time y/n." Your jaw dropped to the ground almost instantly. You were not expecting this to happen at all but look at how fate has presented itself. Xavier smiled, his angelic smile akin to his divine features. He would have been mistaken to be an angel if you did not know that the halo around his head is the sun peeking out from the back of his head. “And I think I would very much like you to be my girlfriend instead of her.”

Your eyelids blinked rapidly, eyelashes just a few more blinks away to cool down the redness in your cheeks. As a reflex, your hands flew up to your mouth to mask your excitement, your lips probably pulled into a grin that stretches to both ears. “I…I…” Your stammering further betrayed your feelings and Xavier leaned down, supple hands held onto your wrist and he pulled your hands down, finally being able to see your shyful expression.

“Seeing you like this makes me very happy y/n.” He cupped your cheeks softly, tediously brushing the pads of his thumb across your cheek and he leaned in, planting a kiss onto your lips to officially make you his girlfriend.

Hope this fluff makes your day my lovelies! <3

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