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foolinafable · 7 months ago

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squeeze you in

SYNOPSIS: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you PAIRING: Viktor x reader WORDCOUNT: 5.2K TAGS: S1 Arcane, set around Act 1 and before Act 2, 5 year age gap, assuming arcane uses weekdays and seasons. Fem pronouns towards the end NOTES: spent all weekend writing this, hope you all enjoy. try not to mind any editing errors

This was decidedly a bad idea. Wandering the halls of the academy at night wasn’t dangerous, even with the recent attack from the undercity, that's if you could even really call it an attack. To you, it seems to be children getting involved in things they shouldn’t. You could remember them now, the swirls of brown, red and blue running along the roofs of Piltover after the explosion in the apartments of the academy. While many around you felt fear, all you saw were children. Sure, they looked only a few years your junior, but even Heimerdinger tells you that you are only on the cusp of adulthood, still shadowed by childish tendencies. You suppose that he is correct; twenty is only one year off nineteen, and that age is considered a teenager despite its adult allowances.

You take a deep breath as your hand curls around the handle to Heimerdinger's office, unsure as to why you feel so nervous. It’s not as if you're stealing anything but rather retrieving it. You had foolishly left behind your notebook during your meeting with him when it had been interrupted by the council having an impromptu meeting, something you are sure had something to do with Talis. You needed it for a meeting the next morning with another professor about your dissertation, your last piece of work as a student at the academy, and you couldn't go to the meeting without it. Least you look unprepared, surely your job offer as a researcher for the academy could be rescinded if you didn’t appear completely committed.

So, despite your better judgement, your anxiety outweighed it as usual as you slowly opened the door to the dean, your mentor's room. You crept inside, even though nobody was around, afraid even the slightest noise could get you caught snooping after hours. Quickly, you found your notebook on the chair. You had left it opposite Heimerdinger's desk; he preferred it when you told him of your research and studies without the aid of your writings, so you had placed it next to your body on the chair. You picked it up, signing in relief that this was as easy as you hoped, when another notebook caught your attention, one that certainly wasn't on the desk when you left. Curiousity about getting the better of you as you reach for it, opening it to the first page, eyes widening at the text ‘If found, please return to Jayce Talis'. Your mind quickly remembered an interaction you had overheard in this very office earlier that day.

You were walking the path towards Heimerdinger's office, only this time it was daytime, the sun was out despite the slight winter chill warming anyone in its path. You slowed as you got towards your mentor's office, frowning at the sound of voices coming from inside. Did you get the time wrong? You wondered, looking down at your watch, showing that you were, in fact, on time. Your hands are sweaty now, anxiety crawling at the idea of interrupting, deciding to stay outside for a few moments to calm down.

“Why can’t I read it?” An exacerbated voice rang out, his accent making your face feel hot

“That Talis’ work was dangerous; the explosions in the city were proof of that; you don’t need to be involved, Viktor”, Heimerdinger's voice rang out, proud as always

“I hardly see how simply reading what he was working on is such a bad thing. I thought the greatest scientific ventures were the ones that bent the rules of the institution.” The man Viktor, you assume, tries to manoeuvre the conversation to his favour, but Heimerdinger is seemingly having none of it. Moving closer to where you are by the door as if to get the boy out of his office, you quickly knock on the door, worried that he would open the door and see you eavesdropping. Both voices stop at the sound of the knock, and Heimerdinger quickly opens the door. You awkwardly smile at the dean, eyes rising to meet the amber ones of the other body occupying the room.

“Can I come back later?” You twiddle your fingers, nervousness wracking your body at interrupting whatever this is

“No, no, come in”, Heimerdinger exclaims, pulling you by the hand into his office, yelping at the sudden contact as he continues to speak. “We were done here anyways”, his eyes solely on Viktor, who seemed to have mellowed out your presence, quickly giving his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing it behind him.

So this was what the man was interested in, what he was forbidden from reading. You tap your fingers on the book cover before quickly placing your notebook on top of it, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth as you quickly depart from the office, might as well make all your worries worthwhile.

—

It wasn’t until later the next day you saw the man you were looking for; it was early afternoon, and you were packing up after having lunch when a head of unruly brown hair caught your eye, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, coffee in one hand sandwich in the other. Grabbing Jayces book, which you had procured the night before, you quickly made your way towards the man before you lost your cool. Unceremoniously dropping the book in front of the man whose eyes darted from you to the book, mouth opening and closing in clear shock.

“I hope whatever is in there is worth it,” you muttered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before turning to leave.

“I-how?” Viktor called out, but you only replied with a cheeky smile, finger covering your mouth in secrecy as you walked away, thinking that to be the only interaction you would have with your mentor's other protege when his voice called out to you, not so far behind

“Wait”

You stood stock still as he approached quicker than you would’ve thought given his cane, but you suppose it was a silly thought that an ailment could stop a man on a mission. Once he catches up with you, he continues to walk, so you join him, slightly confused as to what he may now want.

“Have you read it?” he asks.

“It would be a lie to say I don't know of its content,” you replied, noticing his smile at your remark, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“What did you think?”

“I think...” You trail off, trying to come up with the right words as you both round a corner. “What he wants to do is revolutionary...” Your words scamper off slightly as you notice his eyes on the side of your face.

“But” he reads your mind.

“But”, you echo “I am unsure if he completely knows what he is doing or how he plans to do it”, trying to be as vague as possible due to the students scattered all around “I wrote some notes”, you gesture to the book “Things I thought could be helpful, I assume that's why you wanted it, to learn”

“And how did you get it?” he wonders aloud. “Last time I checked, Heimerdinger wasn't giving out illegal independent research to anyone”, he said with a smile on his face.

“Let's just say it certainly wasn't by asking nicely,” you tease, matching his grin with one of your own “Well, you should probably go read and hide that before Heimerdinger sends out a search party for it.”

“I probably should” Viktor smiles as he turns back the way the two of you came, the book held tightly in his unoccupied hand.

Continuing to walk the way you had been, you couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact that the book was now out of hands and the man, Viktor, seemed just as keen to keep this a secret as you did, even if you did spend all night essentially peer reviewing Jayce Talis’ work, unfortunately, your need to stay out of trouble with your superiors greatly outweighed your want to indulge in what he and assumedly Viktor was planning, you could only hope that your words you had spent all night working on where a help instead of a hindrance. You especially wanted to know how Viktor would take the words you wrote specifically for him at the front of the book:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’

—

One of the benefits of being the dean's newest protege was that the academy gave you your lab, a small space just for you, it even had your name on a metal plaque on the door, probably due to the academy's narcissism, thinking that they would keep you even after your graduation, not that they were wrong. A fact that slightly irritated you.

You didn’t usually get many visitors, just Heimerdinger, to see what you were working on, but those meetings were usually scheduled so he could ensure you were tallying in your lab and not at one of your usual haunts like the library. So you couldn’t help but jump at the sound of a knock on your door, eyebrows furrowed as you called out to whoever stood outside your door.

“Come in!”

Your confusion lingered as Viktor walked in. It had only been a few days since you’d given him Jayce’s book, and from what you had heard, the two were now employed to continue Jayce’s studies non-illegally this time, being funded by Councilwoman Medarda, which they have named ‘Hextech’

“You’re not an easy woman to get ahold of”, Viktor claims as he takes a seat at your desk “I have been stopping by your room for a few days, but you were never in”, he continues, eyes piercing as he takes in the view of you, stood by another desk filled with colanders and Bunsen burners

“You sound like Heimerdinger when you say that” You smiled slightly in truth, scoffing at the face he made, clearly not appreciative of your parallel “What?” you laugh “he has said similar things on various occasions”

“I understand why,” he remarked.

“I spend a lot of time in the library, researching. Especially at the moment with final deadlines coming in, as I’m sure you remember,” he hummed at your explanation “And it’s not as if I’m a professor with allocated office hours, I don't need to be here,” you tell him passively looking back at your work at the table, deciding to turn off the flame not going to get any worthwhile work done until he's gone.

“So what can I do for you?” you asked when the man still sat in silence, seemingly comfortable to just watch you work he blinked, taken away from wherever he went upon registering your words.

“Oh well, I just wanted to thank you, Jayce, as well, for getting his book and your notes, they were more than helpful with working through the kinks in his theory- instrumental really to the breakthrough”, he admitted somewhat bashfully, stumbling over his words a little not that you noticed nervousness crawling up your spine at his approval of your words.

“Oh, um, you're welcome. I mean, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful..” you murmur, unsure of yourself now as he stares at you, not daring to make eye contact, knowing it will only make your nerves worse.

“We were wondering, Jayce and I, if you would read some of our other research in the future, help us out. We would give out any references in the future for any work you do after study” he speaks delicately, soft and slow and if worried, he would scare you off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your heart seems to slow from its anxious thumping as you contemplate his offer.

“I don't see why not”, you ponder absentmindedly, but your mind is already made up.

“Really?” he asked, though he didn’t sound shocked, more like he was trying to egg more words out of you.

“If you can find me, that is” You smile, the nerves falling away from you as he laughs a little

“I’ll go tell Jayce the good news; he's going to be over the moon. You didn’t hear it from me, but he has always wanted to work with you. He said something about loving your approach in an article about the arcane:” You looked at the man again, but he simply walked out of the room, not sparing you another word. You had honestly forgotten that your last article had been published, and the fact that academics that you knew had read it and enjoyed it made a smile appear on your face, maybe this was going to be better than you had thought.

—

A routine had been established this past few months, as winter made way for spring, you had found yourself in a comfortable pattern with the boys.

Once a week, on a Wednesday, you would spend the entire day in your lab working, and at some point, Jayce or Viktor would drop by with some work for you to look through and maybe a comment or two on things you had written the week before. These meetings were usually brief as they quickly needed to get back to work, so you would spend hours going through papers, tweaking diagrams, and sometimes even trekking to the library for a book that might help them. It wouldn’t be until the sun had made way for the moon in the sky that you would be done, taking the work down several corridors and stairs to get to their workspace, where they would still be working to drop them off. The two would then call it time for a break, so the three of you would scamper your way to the cafeteria for a change of scenery while you all ate the food you packed for lunch but had yet to get to.

Today, however, Viktor seemed hellbent on breaking the schedule the three of you had unknowingly created. He had appeared at your lab, maybe a little earlier than he or Jayce usually decided to grace you with their presences, but it was of no matter to you, honestly, the earlier, the better, as it meant you may finish earlier than the hour of the wolf. He did bring a stack of papers with him, but instead of dropping them at your desk, sharing a few complimentary words, and then leaving, he dropped the work at your desk and then sat himself in the new chair he and Jayce had procured that was placed on the other side of your desk so they would have somewhere to sit, not that either of them had used it up until now.

“You alright?” you ask, grabbing the top paper from the pile, you could immediately tell this was Jayce’s as the handwriting is much neater and the use of a very inky pen you quickly grabbed your pink pen and started to read the words on the page only to look up and give the man a sarcastic glower at his lack of words to which he simply smiled, not even the slightest bit disheartened by your look.

“Jayce is off for the day, something to do with his sponsorship with the Kirammans. Told me to take the day off” he shuffled in the chair, attempting to get comfy as his hand grabbed at your notebook, deciding that he would read through some of your work for once

“And you have decided to spend your time here? Doing more work?” you questioned, though not paying the man much attention, mumbling to yourself on the words on the page, completely unphased by Viktor’s lack of decorum, it’s not as if it’s the first time he got bored and decided to read it. “Would mixing it with metal only make it more unstable?” you mutter, not expecting an answer “As an alloy, maybe, or would that make it worse..” you tap the pen on your cheek in thought before scrambling to write your thoughts in the margins of Jayce’s research

“I don’t see reading through your essays and research papers as work”, he admits, a shameless smile gracing his face as he watched you mumble to yourself “More of a palate cleanser, really”

“I just thought that a rest day was supposed to be resting, like having time away from work?” you tried to put the idea of leaving and maybe getting some sleep into the man’s head, his eyebags were becoming a permanent feature on his face like a shadow he cannot be rid of.

“Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?” a teasing look on his face at your words “Is today not also your day off?” he questioned even though he knew the answer. You simply rolled your eyes, trying to smile as he barked out a laugh.

While today was your break from lessons, it had quickly become anything but a rest day after you took the boys up on their offer, there was no way that you could complete your last year's work and help them if you didn’t give up your rest day- so undoubtedly you were a hypocrite, much to your chagrin.

“Just because I give up my days off to help you doesn’t mean you need to do the same,” you tell him, not wanting the man to feel obligated to help you.

“Maybe I want to?”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

The two of them work on your rather small desk with an ease you wouldn’t expect, but you find yourself very comfortable working alongside him and somehow, the work seems to go by faster.

Maybe it was because you wouldn’t need to spend countless hours trying to figure out what chicken scratch either of them had written on your own. Instead, a second pair of eyes, Viktor’s eyes, made the process go by much faster, albeit with some laughter at what on earth either of them had written. You had even managed a trip to the library, something you rarely had time for, usually going to pick up books for the boys the day after, or Jayce would go the day after with a slip of paper. Not only did you and Viktor have the time to pick up some books, but you also went through and verified if they could have something useful inside.

The sun was still shining bright in the sky when you and Viktor had dropped everything off at his lab, still a few hours left of the day. It was an uncharacteristically nice day outside, certainly warmer than you would’ve expected from the spring in Piltover, so the two of you decided to eat your packed lunches outside on a bench within the academy grounds, both too tired to bother going exploring the city for somewhere nicer.

“Now you have helped me, do you think I could convince you to go home and get some sleep, the bags under your eyes are also large enough to be considered their entities” You smiled, laughing quietly at the man sitting next to you as he coughed back his food, clearly not expecting your smartmouth

“As if you’re one to talk”, he quipped as you let out a shocked gasp, though quickly matching his smile

“How about I promise to go back to my apartments and take a breather if you go to yours?” you propositioned. Honestly, some time in bed sounded heavenly

“Only if I walk you back, I don’t want you to sneak back to your office, I hear you can often find yourself in places you aren’t supposed to”, he joked

“It’s a deal then” Both of you chose not to comment on the matching grins on your faces.

—

When Heimerdinger said your last year of study would be the hardest, you believed him. But never did you imagine you could be so swamped.

This past week, you had corralled a table in the library to yourself, spending more time sitting in the uncomfortable seat than anywhere else. It was deadline season, and to say it was hitting you hard was an understatement. No matter how well prepared you thought you were, the workload was unimaginable, leaving you with barely enough time to sleep or eat. Jayce had joked that during his last year, he essentially became a book within the library, and while it was funny at the time now, you understood why, feeling more and more like an encyclopedia by the day.

Luckily for you, your self-imprisonment was soon coming to an end; all you needed to do was read through your coursework one more time, and it would all be done, your last piece of work as a student of the academy. You would dwell on its bittersweetness another time as you read through another paragraph, completely absorbed in your work, completely missing the familiar sounds of footsteps and the tapping of a cane coming your way.

“I swear I need to get a tracker on you” Your head shot up at the sound of Viktor’s voice

“I’m not that hard to find”, you complain as he sits himself down in the chair closest to yours, cane leaning against the table

“I don’t think you get much of a say on the matter, your not the one who has to aimlessly wander around the academy”

“Whatever”, you glower, attempting to get back to your reading when his hand reaches out to grab yours. you jolt, looking up as he intertwines your fingers

“How are you doing be honest” he holds eye contact as his thumb rubs at your index fingers, stopping just after he knuckle before traveling back up

You smile “I’m drowning”

he hums “I can tell” You slump rather unceremoniously into your chair, eyes closed as he continues to rub affectionately at your knuckle, a half-hearted attempt to seep all the tension away from you “Have you got much more to do?” he questions voice soft

“No, just need to read through it once more, then it should be good to submit” You let out a large breath of annoyance, wishing you were finished, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep

“Then you’re done?” he probes

“Completly done, well, until my contract starts as a researcher in the summer”, you clarify, eyes opening slightly, not missing the slight smile on his face, looking down when you heard a rustling of papers only to see Viktor’s non-occupied hand grabbing at your work.

“Take a break; I’ll give it the last read-through. Knowing you, it’s already perfect.” his soft yet stern voice didn’t leave much room for argument, so you closed your eyes again, only for a moment letting the constant feel of his thumb lull you into a calm you had never known.

It was only, however, when you heard the unmistakable voice of Jayce that your eyes opened again, you sent a sheepish smile his way at the admittance that you had, in fact, fallen asleep, trying not to laugh too loudly at his remarks on how much Viktor must have been boring you, if only he knew.

—

Since you had officially handed in all your work and your classes had finished, you now found yourself with a lot of free time, a prospect Viktor and Jayce very much enjoyed. Coming every morning to your door to walk you to their lab for a day of work. Not that you minded, but before Hextech, your plans for the summer would’ve been reading or doing whatever Heimerdinger would see as befitting, so the work was beneficial to you, stopping you from going extensional on what it is you want to dedicate your academic life to, especially since you had no ideas, other than those to help the boys revolutionalise hextech, their current program with the hexgates you were sure was due a breakthrough any day.

You found yourself sat at Jayces desk, him gone for the afternoon schmoozing with some counsellors to try and get as much funding off them as he could. You found yourself tapping along to the melody of the song Viktor had put on, the only time you could have music was when Jayce was out, as he claimed it was too stimulating for him. Working exactly where the man had left off, creating a small prototype of the hexgate, one of many that were to be used in tests planned for later in the week. You barely batted an eye as Viktor appeared next to you, used to him appearing closer than most would

“It’s looking good”, he gestured to the model in your hand you simply hummed in response, adding the final gear, shoulders slumping when you put it down.

“How many do we need again?” you ask, hands rubbing at the tension in your neck from huddling to get a good look at what you were doing.

“Too many”, you groaned at his sheepish admittance. It was silent for a moment or so before he spoke again, an unknown quality to his voice that made you look up at him in confusion.

“Jayce and I were thinking..” he trailed off slightly

“Oh no”, you joked, smiling when you caught the amusement now on his face

“I know, how scary”, he smirked “Anyway, as you’re coming back as a scientist for the academy, we thought, why not make your place with us permanent.”

“Really?” you questioned, do they honestly want you to help them all the time with the work that could improve lives and be the history pages?

“I don’t think we’d be able to function without you now” he admitted

“I’d love to,” you tell him smiling

“Good”, the relief flooded the man “Because we already asked and got the go-ahead from Heimerdinger”, he confessed

“That confident?” you teased

“Obviously”

—

You thought you had done a good job at pretending that today was just any other day, but clearly, as Viktor sat next to you with a cupcake with a candle in it - you had been wrong.

“How did you know today was my birthday? I didn’t tell anyone?” you asked, astonished.

“Heimerdinger told me”, he revealed after you stared at him, clearly pleased with himself

“How does that end up in conversation?” you wonder

“Don’t be so nosey”, he teases, hand coming to grab at your nose

“Says the one who went to our mentor to ask about my personal life”, you accused, but the large smile on your face showed no malice in your words

“Touche”, he forfeited this round, lighting the candle on the cake before pushing it back into your face you simply sent him a look of victory before blowing out the candle, he quickly disposed of the candle before giving you the cake to eat

“Got any big plans for twenty-one?” he wondered aloud

“Work with you” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing lightly as you dug into your birthday cake

“A noble pursuit, I’m sure” It was silent for a short while as you finished your cake, but you didn’t make a move to speak, knowing the look on his face, he wasn’t done “Not going out celebrating? With a boyfriend, maybe?”

“No, no boyfriend, never had the time for any of that. Heimerdinger told me that when a woman dedicates her life to academia, she does not bother dreaming of a family or a relationship, and I agree not many would be able to handle it. Why do you ask?” you admit

“Don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes is all”, he speaks nonachanlty despite his words being anything but

“Well, your not”, you promise, lacing a hand with his

“Good” he brings your hand up his lips

—

You both had way too much stuff. The prospect of moving in together while still exciting the amount of work you had left made you gnaw at your bottom lip. You had a lot of help from Jayce and a rather reluctant Caitlyn to get the boxes into your and Viktor’s new home, and while she commented on its quaintness, it was certainly bigger than anywhere the two of you had ever dreamt of living in

“A family home”, Heimerdinger had teased the two of you when you told him, and you suppose he was right. You didn’t think much about the two spare rooms when you had purchased the house, thinking they would probably be offices, but Viktor absolute reluctance and disdain at your idea to turn one of the rooms into a library after looking at the sheer amount of books the two of you owned made you think differently, it wouldn’t take a smart man to know what he wanted to do with them.

“Stop that” Viktor pulled your bottom lip away from your teeth, an annoyed glint in his eyes, clearly thinking about how many times he had told you those same words you simply kissed his thumb, making him smile at your affection

“There’s so much to do”, you inwardly groaned as you rested your head on his shoulder, making sure not to put too much of your weight on him

“We have the week; don’t need to do it all tonight”, he reminds you, giving a kiss on the top of your head

“Come on, I’ve already started in our room” You straighten up and follow him into your room looking at the picture frames he had already put around the room, one was placed on his bedside table, a photo Jayce had taken at your graduation with your cap and gown arms warped around Viktor a huge smile, all teeth as you look at the camera while Viktor is smiling proudly looking at you, smiling at the photo you move on to the frame he placed on the dresser, a piece of paper framed within it your hands grip the frame looking at the familiar words you had written:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’

You turned to the man who was busying himself with a box filled with jumpers you had never seen him wear

“You kept this?” you smile as he turns around, noticing his bashful expression at being caught.

“You holding it, arent you?” he asked, trying to drive the conversation

“Why,” you asked, not giving up so easily even as he caressed your face in an attempt to distract you groaning, he relented, he could not give you what you wanted, ever so spoiled by him you were

“At first, it was to remind me that it was all worth it”

“At first?” you echo

“Then I kept it because it reminded me of you, of the future I want us to have, and that will only be possible if I kept working, even if it means going beyond the council and what they want.”

“I was only shadowing your view, what you had said to Heimerdinger, something I wasn’t even supposed to hear”, you remind him.

“Well, I’m glad you did”, he admits “And I’m even more glad that you stole Jayces book because bending the rules is what brought us together”, his hand not on his cane gripped at your hip.

“I’m glad I did, too”, you confirm your words with a kiss.

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane

1K notes · View notes

manariee · 6 days ago

Text

DIDNT MEAN TO

热爱 ★ said i would never fall, unless it you i fall into

니시무라 리키 & fem!reader wc: 2451 ◜ᯅ◝ high school AU slow burn-ish emotional tension miscommunication stubborn idiot riki (kind o a jerk) mention of academic stress some light angst

REBLOG4AKISS

MANA: pls unflop me guys i beg oh and thank you @ykitslu for requesting this ^^ AND THANK YOU YIN FOR PROOF READING MWAH

Riki was never the type to fall fast.

And that was no lie.

The whole school knew that, girls would try - putting small notes in his locker, confessions at the school gym. He'd just brush them off with a polite nod or a quiet ''sorry''. So they eventually started giving up with grand gestures and just admired from afar.

But it wasn’t because he was cold-hearted.

No - it was because Riki found no point in love.

''It's stupid,'' he once told Jungwon with a scoff during lunch. ''How do you even know someone’s being real? Like, you look at someone and just know they’re the one? That doesn’t even make sense.''

''You're just scared,'' Jungwon had joked, nudging him with an elbow.

But Riki had gone quiet. Not defensive. Just, firm. He wasn’t scared. He was just done believing in something so fragile - so easily faked.

After that, he never thought about the idea again. No crushes. No lingering stares. No butterflies. Nothing.

Well… That was until high school.

Because high school brought you.

And you didn’t even try.

At first it was nothing, you were just a new face, one of Sunoo's old friends.

But then you started showing up everywhere.

You were in most of his classes, his neighborhood, and his mind, at all times.

Weird, not like he liked you or anything.

Then it happened at lunch, when you smiled a bit too hard at one of the jokes someone made at your guys' table.

He stopped midway a bit of his sandwich, his stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with cafeteria food.

But who was he to listen to his heart?

He decided to stick to his moms food instead.

Just as if the universe knew, Riki got paired up with you on a stupid school project. Of all people. You. On a subject he hated, too.

History.

He'd rather stand on one leg the whole day than to write some ten page essay about a person that doesn't even exist anymore.

You tapped your pencil against your notebook. ''We could do it on the French Revolution. That one's at pretty dramatic.''

He stared at you a second longer than necessary. ''Sure the Eiffel towers pretty cool.''

You blinked, then shook your head. ''That happened after the revolution, in 1887.''

And he grinned. Actually grinned. Like a real one - not his usual smirk or polite curve of the lips. ''Okay nerd.''

But he quickly snapped out of it, what the heck?

As time passed on, he didn't know what was more disturbing: the fact you made him laugh, twice.. Or that he wanted to make you laugh again like you did at Sunoo's jokek the other day. Desperately. Like some dog trying to earn a treat from it's owner.

Every time you smiled at him, it felt like something heavy shifted in his chest. Every time you leaned over to show him your notes, he had to remind himself to breathe like a normal human being.

Why was he sitting up straighter? Why was he nodding like he was actually interested in The Reign of Terror? Why was he googling “how to write a bibliography” at 1AM when he literally never did homework on time?

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Riki Nishimura was trying. For a group project. For you. This was bad.

But the worst part? He didn’t even mind.

Riki knew he was in real trouble when your face would show up on his ceiling.

He was being so embarrasing it even made him cringe.

Like for instance when he tried to offer his umbrella on a rainy day to you, but when you said that he would get soaked, he quickly cut you off with a 'I don't care.''

But what was worse than public humiliation to Nishimura Riki?

His ego betraying him.

Because he was starting to look for you everytime you weren't with the group.

In the hallways. At your locker. On lunch breaks. Sometimes near your house or the convenience store.

And it pissed him off. Because since when did he care about someone liking him back?

He wasn’t supposed to. He’d sworn off that whole mess. Feelings? Affection? Vulnerability?

Absolutely not.

But now?

He reread you texts, pacing in his room, wondering if your ''lmao'' meant if you really were laughing based on what he said and your humor level. He was bringing extra pens in case you forgot yours again, which you always did. Riki never brought pens, ever. He was staying up late to work on the project so ''you wouldn't worry about your grade.''

He was.. Caring?

And you didn't even know.

You didn’t know that when you bumped shoulders with him and laughed like it was nothing, he had to physically stop himself from reacting like a middle schooler with a crush. You didn’t know that you were slowly, steadily, completely destroying him.

Bit by bit. Smile by smile.

It was stupid, so stupid.

You were laughing with some guy from the basketball team outside the cafeteria, and Riki told himself it didn’t matter.

He told himself you were just talking. That you were allowed to smile like that. That you smiled like that at everyone.

But then the guy touched your arm. Lightly. Casually. Familiar.

And that was it.

Something inside Riki just snapped.

It wasn't jealousy. No - jealousy was messy, childish. This was worse. This was panic. This was every wall he’d built crumbling under one tiny, innocent moment. This was every feeling he’d buried just to drag himself to this.

He didn't think, he just walked.

You turned when you spotted him from the corner of your eye. But you were completely caught off guard when he gently grabbed your arms. ''Riki?''

''Can we talk?'' he said, eyes narrowed and tone so sharp it almost made you fear of what he would say next.

The guy looked between you two awkwardly and just left as Riki pulled you to the side of the building, where it was a bit more quiet.

''Okay.. What's going on?..''

He didn't answer right away, his fingers were twitching at his sides, curled into fists as if it would ground him.

''I don't get it.'' he said after a beat.

You raised your brows, arms crossed. ''Get what?''

''You'' he blurted out, tone frustrated but not to you, more to himself. ''This. Whatever you've been doing to me.''

You blinked, confused of which turn this conversation was taking, you could feel your heartbeat increasing a bit too fast.

''I was fine before. Like, really fine. I didn't care about people, or love, or any of that corny stuff. But then you came along with your dumb flower doodles and your weird French Revolution facts and your - your laugh.''

You froze, almost choking on your own breath. ''M-my laugh? Riki what are you saying?!''

''Yes your laugh, it's fucking pissing me off so bad.''

Silence.

''I've been losing my sleep just because your face haunts my ceiling,'' he said, quite literally pouring everything out now. ''And it's not in a love-story kind of way it's more of a haunting-creepy way. I hate group projects and don't care of what others think of me, but suddenly i'm writing 5 extra pages just so you would be impressed. I keep showing up to class early just in case i bump into you. I carry extra pens so you won't have to ask anyone else and I gave you my umbrella when I hate the rain!''

You stood frozen, lips parted, and that was when he fully broke - his voice cracked just a little when he added:

''I don’t know what to do when you look at me.''

Your breath caught.

''I tried pretending it wasn't happening,'' he said. ''I tried staying cool, acting like I didn't feel anything. But I do. And I can’t not anymore.''

Silence again.

Then…

''I like you.''

He finally met your eyes.

''And it’s driving me crazy Y/N.''

You stood there, even a step feeling to heavy.

His chest was pounding so hard you swore even you could hear it.

You wanted to say something, heck - anything. But the words just wouldn't come.

Come on Y/N it can't be that hard can it?

Riki's hopeful eyes searched yours for any sign - any little spark - that you felt the same.

But the silence seemed to eat him up. It was heavier than any heartbeat between the two of you.

He sighed, turning.

''Forget it. Forget I said anything.''

But before he could walk away he turned his head over his shoulder, a small, forced smile on his face.

''Have a good evening Y/N.''

The next day, Riki wasn't at the quiet corner of the study café, the spot where you two could do anything without being interrupted.

But no, Riki was in the center of it. The place where it was way too crowded. A airpod in his ear, the missing one still in your purse, the one you were supposed to give back but he decided confess instead.

You quietly walked towards that spot, and even though he spotted you from the corner of his eye, he didn't look up, just continued typing away.

''Hey.'' you said softly, purse strap clutched in your hand.

He looked up, noticed how you semeed a bit dolled up considering the ocassion. ''You got a date or something after this?''

You blinked, looked around then shook your head. ''No?..''

He nodded, bringing his gaze back to the screen, tone cold and something else that made you feel regret? ''Due date's soon.''

You sighed, nodding as you pulled out the chair beside his. ''Right we should-''

You were cut off by the sight of his bag on the chair and sat on the one across instead.

The space between you felt enormous.

You remembered all the times he’d leaned over your shoulder, whispering jokes, nudging you playfully.

Now, his silence screamed louder than any words ever could.

You both got an A.

Top marks, praise from the teacher, Jealous stares from classmates who'd started with theirs last minute.

You thought it would feel good - something to celebrate.

But sitting there beside Riki, it just felt.. Empty.

He barely reacted. No smug grin. No playful ''We killed it'' shoulder nudge. Or that dinner he promised to take you out on if you two aced it.

''Guess we did alright,'' he said casually.

You nodded. ''Yeah.''

There was that awful silence again, it was so unbearable and full with tension. You just wished things were just like before, air filled with laughter and his dumb jokes.

He stood up, sliding his bag over his shoulder. ''Well.. Good job, Y/N.''

You panicked a little and quickly got up, before scrambling into your bag. ''Wait.''

He paused, hands casually in his pocket.

You held out his missing Airpod - the one he was supposed to smile at upon seeing.

He looked at it for a second, then gave a soft laugh.

That same laugh which made you stupidly smile.

''Guess this ends here?''

You froze, fingers still stretched toward him.

He took the AirPod gently, careful not to brush your hand. His voice was light, but his eyes didn’t match - too careful, too guarded. Like he'd already accepted your silence and was trying to make peace with it.

You wanted to yell.

You wanted to turn back time.

But right now? You could just watch him walk away.

The moment he stepped out of the classroom, something inside of you snapped, why was he acting like he was the only one hurt? You were hurt too. So that's why you were currently running across the street, rain pouring down in sheets, soaking your uniform, but you didn't care. You had to take out your anger on Nishimura Riki, once and for all.

When you turned a corner there you saw him. Umbrella in his hand, back towards you.

''Nishimura Riki.'' you called out, trying to catch your breath while trying not to look like a idiot at the same time.

He didn’t turn around.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stepping closer. ''You didn’t even give me a chance. You just... walked away. Like I was some stranger huh?''

His silence was a punishment, heavier than any words he could say.

''I waited,'' you said, biting your lip to keep the tears from falling. ''You didn’t even give me a chance- You! You treated me like I ruined everything, like I was the one who messed it up. But maybe it’s you who’s scared!''

You took a shaky breath, fists clenched at your sides.

''And that’s not fair. You treated me like a jerk before even hearing me out. Like I wasn’t worth the time.''

The words spilled out, raw and desperate. ''You treated me like I ruined everything!''

The silence stretched between you, the rain soaking through your clothes, mixing with the tears you didn’t bother wiping away.

And then—

Without a word, Riki spun around, ran and pulled you into his arms, hand cradling your head.

You cried against his chest, your hands weakly punching his shirt. ''You're such a jerk,'' you said between those weak punches. ''A mean, jerk.''

His arms tightened around you, a quiet promise in the way he held you close.

''I'm sorry,'' he whispered against your hair, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm despite the rain.

The rain has slowed down and you and Riki were drying up on the bench outside the convenience store. It had been a while someone had said something but the silence wasn't as bad as the ones before.

He glanced towards you, gulping before muttering. ''I'm sorry.''

You turned your head towards him, nodding since you didn't know what to say.

''I got scared. Thought I had ruined everything we had, but yes, it wasn't fair of me I know.''

You chuckled, nudging him. ''Nishimura Riki apologizing first?''

He smiled a bit, leaning closer. ''Forgive this jerk?''

You wanted to stay mad. Really. You should’ve. But the way he looked at you. God you couldn't.

You nodded, biting your lip.

''Don't make me regret it,'' you whispered.

His lips quirked in the smallest smile, and then - finally - he closed the distance.

The kiss was slow, his hand coming up to cradle your face, and lips moving against yours like he was earning the apology.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, he laughed quietly, breathless.

''You hit me pretty hard earlier,'' he teased.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. ''You deserved it.''

''I probably still do.''

''I'd rather kiss you instead.''

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine @callikari @yuuuraaa @wondoras @ykitslu @orimuraa

NETS: @k-films

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strawbeerossi · 2 years ago

Text

The Ballad Of Dr. Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking.

In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.

You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.

It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips.

What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.

His hands on-

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you.

“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today.

The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.

There was no clean getaway.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”

Fuck.

Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”

“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.”

He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class.

Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university.

“Really?”

“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke.

There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.”

The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment.

“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his.

You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.

The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down.

“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point.

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips.

“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.

This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut.

“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.

His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.

“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating.

With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open.

“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded.

“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan.

As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.

There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.

Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.

Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did.

As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Deal.”

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ballsandbabes · 1 month ago

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Bleed through love: Geum Seong-jae x Reader

Authors Note: I normally dont write about other things than Sports, BUT...I started with Weak Hero and find the story really exciting. While reading, I found Geum Seong-ja's character very exciting. Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

Summary: Love is never easy, but it is difficult when you fall in love with Seongje. But what happens if he's interested in you too?

Genre: Universe of Weak Hero, slow-burn romance, character drama, fluff with grit, slightly toxic depiciton of a relationship.

Life wasn't fair. Not for you. Your parents were once respected doctors at a good clinic. But even there, corruption flowed through every vein of the institution. That is, until Kim De-Uhn, the director of the clinic, died. And therefore the only person who had protected this secret. As soon as the new director was in office, all employees were fired, including your parents. They had done nothing wrong, but the director wanted to get rid of all old employees in order to be able to completely rebuild and improve the clinic's reputation. With everything that came to light afterward, it made it difficult for your parents to find work again.

And that's how you ended up at Eunjang High School. A cruel, brutal and unrelenting chaos of a school life. You had once had dreams. Dreams of a good, carefree life as a graphic designer. But now it was about surviving this cruel and terrible place.

If you didn't belong to one of the thug squads or knew a member, you could actually get through everyday school life just fine. And that's exactly what you did. You were quiet, reserved and didn't attract attention. Which doesn't mean that you didn't have your reputation at school. The classmates who knew you knew how good you were. Smart, well-read, intelligent, one or two boys would also say that you were very beautiful.

“Omg, I heard Yeon Sieun got into a fight with someone again,” said Daehyun, your best friend. "Oh come on, let's not interfere. That happens every day," you said as you prepared for the next lesson.

You first met Geum Seong-jae after a math test.

You were sitting alone in the hallway, reading glasses slipping down your nose, notebook open across your lap as you reviewed formulas for fun — because yes, that’s the kind of person you were. You liked rules. You liked logic to a degree. You liked knowing that hard work, in school at least, led to clear answers.

He walked by bleeding from the lip.

And you didn’t look away.

“You....you okay?” you asked, calm and straightforward. At that moment you didn't even know why you had spoken to him. Actually, it was against all your rules, but you did it anyway. How reckless.

He slowed. Stared. He was used to flinches, whispers, or forced politeness. Not concern. Especially not from a girl in a sporty zip-up Hoodie with ink on her fingers. He scoffed. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you got your face slammed into a locker. Twice,” You said while adjusting your glasses. Why did you say that?

That pulled a sharp laugh from him—surprised and short. Then he turned to leave, but not before shooting you a sideways glance.

“Don’t get involved,, stupid girl” he muttered.

But you were involved, in the way that people like you always were — because you believed people and their actions could be understood, even when they didn’t believe it themselves. You would know what he was like. He had shown this often enough when his bloody knuckles had slammed into his opponent's jawline until it was brimming with blood. That's why you knew you couldn't change him. You didn't want that either, but you wanted to be able to understand him, understand why he did what he did.

___ _ _ _

You saw each other every now and then, especially on the way home. When you had to move, the neighborhood you lived in, was different, more unsafe.

It had started with the conversation in the hallway of the school, that Seongje found himself thinking about you. What was the point of this stupid girl to just babble at him like that? Was she crazy?

You hadn't cared who he was, you had just wanted to make sure he was okay and he couldn't quite understand that. He had told himself he was here purely by chance as he waited outside the shabby little art room. Movement. He looked into the room through the tiny, dusty window. You helped a classmate with her picture. Your eyes focused and full of helpfulness. Your body language inviting and sisterly.

Another time you stopped at the sports field on your way from the entrance hall across the courtyard. You had actually never seen him play sports before, that was more Hoo-min Park's thing. Also a bully at your school. It was where you realized how strong and athletic Seongje actually was.

So it went back and forth. You noticed each other. However, without anyone else noticing.

The next time, he found you.

A kid from another class had tried to cheat off your quiz, and when you refused, he pushed you against a locker and called you a stuck-up nobody. You didn’t cry. You stared him down and told the teacher. He got detention.

You got called names. By lunch, your books had been tossed in the hallway. Again.

And Seongje saw it happen.

You didn’t saw him, therefor thinking he wouldnt bat an eye — he didn’t exactly have a reputation for defending nerdy girls with moral backbones. But then, at the end of the day, the kid who shoved you left school with a bloody nose and a limp. What had happened?

You and your friends sat on the wall of the schoolyard as you discussed in whispers what had happened to the guy who had been so mean to you. "Maybe this is all just a stupid coincidence," Mia said, her voice low and wavering. "I don't think so, the boys may be brutal, but that doesn't mean they can't think," Jiun said.

And then you would have seen him. Just early enough to see him put his bloody hand in his pocket. While you were still running, you said goodbye to your friends as you ran after him.

“Don’t thank me,” Seongje told you when you caught up to him later. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then why?” you challenged him to answer you, arms crossed, refusing to let him brush it off.

His eyes lingered on your face. "...Because you didn’t flinch. You even have the guts to talk to me like that."

___ _ _ _

He started showing up more after that. Not obviously. Just… nearby. Lingering. He'd stand outside the library and pretend to scroll through his phone. Sit behind you during lunch and pretend to sleep. Glance your way in class and immediately look away when you noticed.

You first didnt notice, but when you did, you never called him out. You just let him hover — because you knew that for someone like him, proximity was connection.

He asked you once, late in the hallway after everyone had left: “Why are you always trying to do the right thing? Even when it sucks for you?”

You closed your locker and smiled at him. “Because someone has to. I don't know, but maybe it will help someone. Maybe it will help someone if I point out to the teacher that we cannot move the date forward. And maybe if I do it enough, someone else will too.”

“…That’s so stupid,” he said quietly, laughing at you.

But the next week, he returned a lost wallet to a first-year without taking the cash inside. Even if he had thought about taking it.

Geum Seong-jae wasn’t gentle. Not in the slightest. To be honest, he was brutal, crazy and arrogant. Despising people who are or act weak, people like you. He wasn’t patient. His anger lived just under his skin, hot and volatile.

But with you?

He showed a very strange side of his, in ways you couldnt really describe. And explain even less.

He "walked" you home but never admitted it, basically he followed you from a few meters away. He "asked", more like teased or bullied you with questions about your favorite books and pretended to be bored....then he would steal them from you. He tried to fix your broken calculator once. Failed. Replaced it in your bag without saying a word. Which got you into massive trouble. Because the guy sitting next to you had lost his calculator, which was also new, and simply accused you of stealing his calculator. What was that about? Did Seungje want to bully you?

And when you asked him, one day, why he hung around you at all, he shrugged and said,“Because you entertain me with you "good morals".” “What do you mean,” you asked him, confused. He explained to you that you weren't an angel either. You lent your study materials to a classmate so that she could copy and not fail. Actually, you weren't allowed to do that. And unfortunately he is right. In an attempt to do something good, you had done something forbidden. An interesting thought came to you during this conversation…maybe it was the same with him?

___ _ _ _

It started like any other day — quiet, normal, deceptive. But you could tell something was off the moment Seongje stepped into school. His eyes were darker, shoulders tense, fists already curled like he’d been in a fight before first period even began. You didn’t ask — not yet — but you stayed close.

When the news spread through the halls that some guys from a nearby school had jumped one of Seongje’s friends outside the gates, everything unraveled fast. By the time you found him, he was already throwing punches. It wasn’t a fight — it was an explosion. Raw, furious, unstoppable. One of the boys lay curled on the concrete, bleeding from the mouth, teeth lose, while Seong-jae slammed the other into a wall, again and again, knuckles cracking with every hit.

“Seongje!” you shouted, running toward him. He didn’t hear you.

“Omg...Stop—please!” You grabbed his arm, your voice trembling but strong. “He understood, but if you continue you could kill him.”

He shoved you back without looking. Not hard — just to get you out of the way. But your foot caught the curb. And you fell. Hard. The third boy gripping you by your wrist, twisting it. You let out a cry of pain. The sound of your body crying for help, in pain, was louder than his fists.

That’s when everything stopped.

His fist hovered mid-air. His head turned. And when he saw you — clutching your wrist, eyes wide in stunned silence — his entire body locked. He let go of the boy he’d been pummeling, who collapsed with a groan. Then Seongje stumbled toward you, color draining from his face. Freeing you from the clutches of the third boy, while hitting him with his fist.

“Y/N…”

You sat up slowly, wincing. Your wrist throbbed, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the look on his face — pure devastation, like he was watching everything he built crumble in real time.

“I didn’t—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was you, I just—”

You looked at him, really looked. Tears in your eyes, caused by through pain inflicted by him. His hands were shaking. Blood was on his knuckles, and you didn’t know whose. His breath came fast and shallow. But his eyes — his eyes were breaking.

“I told you,” you whispered, “you’re more than your anger.” He sank to the ground beside you, knees drawn up, hands buried in his hair like he wanted to tear it out.

“I’m not,” he muttered. “I hurt you. I did hurt you.”

You reached out gently, laying your uninjured hand on his.

“I’m still here,” you said. “That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

He looked at you like he didn’t deserve to. Like he’d already accepted that you’d walk away. Like they always did. But you, for what ever reason, didn’t. So if you wouldnt walk away, he had to. He didn't want to see you, being hurt by him ever again.

And so time passed. Time when it felt as if all the moments of stares, anger, closeness and acquaintance had never existed. You became strangers.

___ _ _ _

Time passed. Like it always did. Slow, awkward, cruel.

You and Geum Seongje drifted, the way people do, when things go unsaid — not out of hate, but out of history too heavy to carry. After the fight, after your wrist healed, after he stopped meeting your eyes in the hallway... things just broke.

Now, you were strangers again. You started dating someone a few months later — a boy from the year above, pretty handsome, tall and smart. He was kind, on paper. Well-dressed. Smiled when teachers looked. And most importantly, he wasn't complicated. He didn’t throw punches. He didn’t carry the weight of anger behind his eyes.

But Seongje noticed the difference right away. You didn’t light up when you talked about him. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. And when Seongje saw you walking with the guy, hand-in-hand but looking at the ground — he knew.

And then, some afternoon that week, he saw him. Behind the convenience store, Seong-jae caught him — your perfect boyfriend — with his arm wrapped around girl. A girl that wasnt you. The boy was grinning like he hadn’t just lied to you with every kiss.

That was the moment he snapped. No hesitation. No warning. Fist met jaw. Shoulder hit wall. The guy screamed, fought back, but Seong-jae was fire — wild and wordless. His only thoughts were: How dare you. How dare you touch her, lie to her, ruin her happy smile like that.

By the time it ended, Seongje stood panting over the guy’s crumpled body, fists bloodied, eyes burning. He didn’t even run.

He wanted you to know. You did find out. And you were furious.

You showed up at the nurse’s office where they were patching up his busted lip.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice shaking — not from fear, but something deeper. “You can’t just fight everyone who looks at you the wrong way, Seongje!” There it was. At such times, you showed a fire equal to his. Anger, disappointment and the urge to fight. It fascinated him how you could be so loving, caring and so spirited at the same time.

He stared up at you, eyes shadowed, like he’d already accepted your rage before you even arrived.

“I saw him,” he said quietly. “Cheating on you...with that dumb blonde from the second year. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it slide.”

Your anger deflated. You blinked, stunned.“…What?”

He looked away. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one like that does.”

Silence hung heavy between you. And in it, something softened.

“I’m not....yours.... to protect anymore. I never needed that kind of protection...so whats up with this shit of yours??,” you whispered. Not cold. Just… honest.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I still want to.”

After that, things began to shift. Slow. Careful. You started saying hi again in the halls. He started waiting just a little longer near your classroom. One day, he handed you a drink — your favorite, the one you hadn’t told him you still liked. You took it without a word.

One night, you caught him waiting for you outside the library.

“Thought I’d walk you home,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”

You smiled. “Maybe they don’t have to die. and maybe you walk home with me, instead of behind me?”

From then on, it was the little things. Your hand brushing his on the bus, neither of you pulling away. Him walking on the outside of the sidewalk. You fixing the cut on his knuckle or cheek after another scuffle — gently, like touching something sacred. Him pretending not to look at you or care about it. You pretending not to notice.

You waited. Because if there was one thing you learned about Geum Seongje, it’s that he didn’t need someone to rescue him — he needed someone to stay.

___ _ _ _

It started on a late spring afternoon, the sky grey and heavy. You were leaving school when the downpour hit. You didn’t have an umbrella.

Of course, he found you just at the right time (he had probably followed you again) — running, hair soaked, backpack clutched to your chest. He didn’t say anything. Just walked up and stood in the rain beside you.

Soaked. Still. Silent.

You looked at him, laughter bubbling from your chest.

“This is stupid,” you said, smiling. “We’re going to get sick.”

“Probably,” he replied. You shook your head. “Why do you always show up?”

His voice was low, sincere. “Because you make me want to be someone who doesn’t run away.”

Your breath hitched. Rain clung to your lashes, little droplets haning on for their dear life. His hair stuck to his forehead., soaked and wet He looked at you like you were the only solid thing left in a world that never gave him a place to rest. This time his eyes only show the madness of letting you into his life. The madness of believing that a stupid girl couldn't hurt him. But you could. Whenever you weren't there, he couldn't see you. The fear that something would happen to you cut through him like a sharp knife.

You stepped closer. He didn’t move. “You’re not a bad person, Seong-jae,” you said, voice barely louder than the rain. “You’re just scared someone might understand you... believe that even you have good intentions...sometimes.”

“…You believe that?”

“I do,” you said quietly. Unsure if these words wouldn't make him angry. And then, he leaned in — slowly, softly — and you met him there, in the middle of the storm.

The kiss was everything it shouldn’t have been. Wet. Clumsy. Honest. Madness.

His hands gripped the sides of your face like he was terrified you'd disappear. Yours found his chest, feeling the heartbeat under bruises and bandages and broken pasts.

When you pulled away, breathless, you smiled.

He did too. Not wide. Not perfect. But real.

BONUS:

The boxing hall was dimly lit, smelling faintly of sweat, leather, and something weirdly nostalgic. The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving the city hushed outside, the world tucked into sleep. It had been a few weeks now since you two shared that rainy kiss.

Inside, you were wrapping your hands with practiced slowness — or, at least, trying to. You had no idea what you were doing. You had never been in a place like this before and to be honest it scared you a little. On the other hand, you were happy that Seongje took you into his world with him. A sign of his affection towards you.

“You’re doing it backwards,” Seongje muttered, walking up behind you. His fingers brushed yours, fixing the tape with the kind of care that didn’t match his bruised knuckles or the way he usually handled the world. You glanced up at him, teasing. “I didn’t know Mr. Punch-Everything-In-Sight was a hand-wrapping expert.”

He gave you a sharp look, a fire flickering behind his eyes. “If you're gonna fight, you're gonna do it right.”

“Who says I want to fight?,” confusion rose in your voice. Shouldn't this be something like a date? Sure, it had been weird when he asked you to tag along, but when has it ever been normal with him?

His voice dropped. “You're with me now.” That shut you up — not because it was possessive, but because it was protective. His way of saying I won’t always be able to catch them first. The gym was empty but alive with silence. A single bulb flickered above the ring.

“You're not gonna hurt me....,” you asked, better demanded gently, stepping up into the ring.

He hesitated. “I might.”

You smiled, pulling him by the hand. “Then....Then teach me how to hit back.”

He started with stance — guiding your feet, steadying your shoulders. He circled you slowly, correcting posture, nodding when you got it right. But every time his hands touched you — waist, arms, jaw — it lingered just a moment too long.

And you noticed. “Try,” he said, lifting the pads. “Throw one.”

You did. It wasn’t clean. But it had heart.

He smirked. “Again.”

You hit harder. He chuckled lowly, his mad smile starting to appear on his face. “Better. Where’s that fire when you’re doing math equations?”

You dropped your fists and raised a brow. “Well.. its different...wait?You like my fire?”

He stilled — caught off guard for just a second. “...Yeah. A lot.”

Your eyes locked. Then you stepped in — slow, deliberate — sliding your hands up the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. Dragging him towards you.

His breath hitched. “Y/N…”

You tilted your head. “You gonna stop me?”

“No,” he whispered. “Never.”

And then you kissed him. No hesitation. No buildup this time.

It was all sharp angles and soft mouths, the snap of tension finally breaking. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him, teeth clashing in a kiss that tasted like adrenaline and something long overdue. It was wild and demanding.

You tugged at his shirt. He growled — low and real — before lifting you gently and setting you on the edge of the ring.

The contrast between his rough grip and the reverence in his gaze lit every nerve in your body.

“You sure?” he asked, chest heaving.

You nodded, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure.”

And in that old gym, where ghosts of fights past echoed in the walls, you gave yourself to him — not just your body, but every piece of trust he thought he didn’t deserve. And there you saw it, his version of gentleness.

His lips on your neck. Your hands in his hair. The quietest moans swallowed between kisses. Him trying his best, so his strength never bruised you — it only held you steady. And your softness never made him weak — it grounded him.

For once, Seongje had developed a strong respect for will and strength, other than his. His madness faltering, knowing you could understand his being.

For the moment, he just was mad about you.

I hope you liked this special piece. Love Becca <3

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #weak hero x reader #weak hero webtoon #whc2 #geum seong je #geum seong je x reader #wolf keum #weak hero kdrama #geum seongje #weak hero season 2

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ohgodthevoices · 4 months ago

Note

i will literally cry if you do more ushijima fluff ☺️ literally anything would suffice i just need a big ol’ man

I FUCKIN LOVE USHIJIMA YES THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY

tags : flufff, high school + time skip ushijima x reader, intellectually challenged ushijima, not proof-read

wordcount : 1.4k

ushijima was popular in high school sure , but he didn’t have many friends (the lil friends he had are basically just his teammates) so when ushijima was in your class during your last year, you were a bit surprised he sat all alone and spoke to no one unless it’s necessary. he always looked so focused in class , not a single moment of distraction, it was honestly impressive to you how a human was capable of such concentration. you always had a small teeny tiny crush on him, but you thought you were no different from the other girls, after all he was handsome, tall, athletic, respectful and smart (or so you thought)

you looked at him expressionless ,probably because of the shock, when he stood tall and proud infront on your desk showing you his failing grade on his english exam, and asked you to tutor him, you blink staring at the bold red mark 12/100. how does one even get such a bad grade…

“i guess i could do that…when do you want to start ?” you sighed closing your notebook “now.” of course.

ushijima was now forever grateful to you and your late night study sessions at the library, you refused any kind of payment from him, so instead of paying you directly , he would buy snack for your sessions slowly takings notes of your taste and preferences.

the day of the final exams ushijima was more than ready , but before that, he made it his mission to find and give you a sandwich he carefully crafted himself. “you’ll concentrate better if you eat.” his red headed friend behind him was kind of creeping you out , he was watching with barely contained amusement, his red eyes practically staring at your soul “look at him, so domestic now,” he teased, nudging ushijima’s shoulder. “our dear wakatoshi woke up early just to make that for you, y’know. poured his heart and soul into it~”

ushijima seemed unfazed by his friend’s teasing he kept staring at you with the same piercing look he always had, you took the neatly wrapped sandwich with a smile, almost running away after thanking him and wishing him good luck , having one tall guy staring down at you was already intimidating but you couldn’t handle a second…

ushijima had moved on after graduation, focusing on his career as a pro volleyball player, but part of him always wondered what might have happened if he’d said more back then. one rainy evening, he walked into a convenience store after practice, grabbing something to eat, when he saw you—standing in front of the shelves, just like in the old days.

you didn’t notice him at first, but when you turned around, your eyes met. “Y/N…” he hesitated, surprised to see you again. “It’s been a while.” you blinked, taking it all in , seeing a grown man now infront of you, he was somehow ever bigger now, his jersey tight in the right places was highlighting his impressive physique. you quickly look back up at his eyes hoping he didn’t think you were checking him out, not that you weren’t.

a silence fell between you, and then, before he knew it, ushijima blurted out, “I didn’t think I’d see you again. after graduation, i thought i missed my chance. i should’ve said something… I liked having you around.” ushijima felt his heart race, his stomach doing flips, he felt like a high school boy again, the familiar feeling that he was too stupid, too stubborn and scared to identify and admit coming back to him so easily.

ushijima was very logical and simple minded, if his mind told him something he would do it without thinking, so when he asked you to his match tomorrow even he was surprised by his own request

but of course you agreed and you went to watch him, although you arrived a bit late you still had a nice spot he himself reversed for you so you could watch him play. when it was his turn to serve he scanned the crowd for the third time in the first set, he thought you wouldn’t come that he was too forward, too fast again that maybe he said too much by admit the interest he had in you— but your eyes met and you waved at him , since it’s ushijima he wouldn’t dare to show an inch of emotion so he simply nodded at you, but ushijima was fired up, he was determined , if he won this match he’d ask you out

so he ran to find you, escaping any kind of interview or a fan stopping from talking to you while he still had the courage. ushijima was now infront of you catching his breath, his nose red from the cold and his hair still messy and slightly wet from the sweat. he stood there for a moment, eyes locked on yours, the words hanging between you two. “would you… go out with me?” It was simple. It was straightforward. but there was something about the way he said it, the weight of his words, that made your heart flutter. you had never seen ushijima like this before—he was so controlled in every aspect of his life, but this… this was different. he was letting himself be vulnerable.

you agreed to go out with him and both of you tried to make small talk ,both in the cold of the night slightly blushing avoiding the others eyes before you mention the cold and ushijima perked up taking off his adlers jacket giving it to you, ushijima cleared his throat not sure what to do next, but his coach called out to him and he said his goodbyes to you not sure if his coach saved him from more awkwardness or if he deprived him from spending time with you

when you went out with him , you knew he had a goal with this , he was only taking you out before asking you to be his to simply follow the “rules”, you knew him a lil too well to think he’d take you out just for the sake of taking you out. ushijima was taking you out so you could feel more comfortable with him.

and after the third date he asked you , he felt it was safe enough then that he wouldn’t really risk rejection. so you started dating and you finally found yourself holding your high school crush’s hand.

ushijima wasn’t one for expressing himself verbally or physically really, he may not be a man of many words, but when you speak, he listens. bot just nodding along—he remembers everything and that’s why he’s such a good boyfriend , ushijima doesn’t really use social media either, he has a professional account that he doesn’t really manage but that’s about it. however he downloaded tiktok so that he could understand what’s a dyson and why do you want it so badly

he is so protective of you, if you’re walking together, he always positions himself on the side closer to the road. if someone bumps into you too hard, he tenses slightly and subtly shifts closer. if you seem uncomfortable, his presence alone is enough to ward off anyone bothering you.

one of ushijima’s love languages is act of service, so he doesn’t understand when you don’t want him to hold your bag for you , it being “part of the outfit” was just out of his level of understanding.

he naturally walks fast, but if he notices you falling behind, he slows down—without even realizing he’s doing it. if you’re struggling with anything, his first instinct is to help. he just cares so much that if you so much as sniffle, he tells you to wear warmer clothes. If you mention skipping a meal, he looks at you like you just committed a crime and makes sure you eat. It’s not nagging—it’s just ushijima logic: you are important to him → you should take care of yourself → if you don’t, I will

he doesn’t open up easily, but with you, he slowly starts letting his guard down. maybe he shares small pieces of his childhood, or you catch him genuinely smiling—not the usual composed expression, but something real and unguarded. your friends usually question how you could date someone so stoic and “empty” but you couldn’t get mad at them of course they haven’t seen him smile at ai cat singing videos.

ushijima is someone who values his space and time alone, but when it comes to you, he willingly shares that space. sometimes, you’ll find yourself next to him after a stressful day, and he doesn’t say anything—he just sits there. his presence is calming, a silent reassurance that you don’t have to talk, but you’re not alone. he doesn’t realize how much that silence actually means to you.

a/n : i know this is long but istg i can yap forever about him T•T i had to actually stop myself or i would’ve gone forever

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #ushijima x you #ushijima fanfic #ushijima fluff #ushijima headcanons #ushijima x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader

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ducky-women · 21 days ago

Text

Semi-finals against England

(England Lionesses X Reader) (Alexia Putellas X Teen!Reader) (Barcelona Femeni X Teen!Reader)

Summary: It's time to see who will face Spain in the final, México or England

Masterlist

Author's note: Remember this is crack being taken serious (me, I'm taking it serious) I know what happens will probably never happen, but let a girl dream, hope you enjoy the chapter and my requests are open if you have any idea on what you would like to see next, also sorry if there are any mistakes, I proof read it but English is not my first leanguage so sorry if there are any mistakes

....

You took a deep breath to try and calm your nerves, your hands were shaking slightly while you looked around the tunnel, your team was lined up and ready to go out, you were in the middle of the line so you were surrounded by players

On the other side the England lionesses were getting ready to go out too, they looked slightly less nervous than you, chatting between them, you were sure if you even dared to utter a word you would for sure stutter, specially in the presence of such great footballers

A year ago you would have never guessed that you would still be playing football nonetheless being so close to footballers you have admired like Alessia Russo or Ella Toone but then the mascots came out and you got a little boy around three that was looking around in wonder and you knew you had to reign in your nerves or else he might freak out

“Hi buddy” you spoke to him while crouching down into a squad to be in the same height as him “Are you excited to go out there?” he nodded excitedly making you smile “That’s good, ready?” you asked once the referees announced that it was time and once he nodded you stood up and took his hand in yours while taking one final deep breath and starting to walk out

The shouts of the stadium greeted you and the rest of the players as both teams lined up to hear the national anthems, you noticed how the air was a bit chilly for the night and how every now and then small droplets of rain fell

During England’s national anthem you noticed how your mascot was slightly trembling since they were only wearing some shorts and a short sleeve t-shirt so you took off your jacket and put it around his shoulders while rubbing up and down trying to warm him up

After that it was time for your national anthem, so you raised your right arm, tucking in your thumb downwards so it was not visible and leaving only the other four fingers facing out, when the anthem started you sung it with pride like you always used to do every Monday without fail at eight in the morning during the civic act that honors both the country and the flag

When it was time for the hand shake you tried your best in not showing the slight tremble of your hands once every English player shaked your hand and then it was time for the kickoff so you gave your mascot away and since he had your jacket you could run straight towards your position

Once in your position you try to get the last of your jitters out jumping up and down a little bit and then you close your eyes turning your head up and taking a deep breath, while you release the air slowly you open your eyes towards the sky

“Be with me okay” you whisper while softly tracing the band around your wrist which had your grandpa’s name written in your grandma’s soft cursive with a little heart beside it, waiting for the whistle

…

Up in the stans, on one of the boxes was the Spanish National team, having made the trip just to see the match in person because they all were curious about how this was going to end, if you had the willpower and skills to stop the Euro champions of if England would somehow get to the finals with all the stars and manpower they had

“You seriously look like lunatics” Misa said laughing while looking at Aitana and Alexia who were in the front, with little notebooks on their laps and pens ready to take notes “Oh come on not you too” she said with a groan once she looked around and saw almost everyone except the youngsters with notebooks and pens

“Hey the kid has talent, we all want her” Marta said with a shrug opening her notebook and getting her pen ready to take in everything she could so she could deliver it towards her executives, which most likely every player was doing

“Oh you best believe it” Esther muttered while biting her pen “The team that doesn’t want to snatch her is a fool and very stupid” she murmured while scanning the pitch to see what role you would take on this match

“Shhh it’s about to start” Alexia told them with a bit of a glare

“Alexia the stadium is literally buzzing with shouts and chants” Irene deadpanned from the pink haired midfielder’s side

“Yeah but I need to concentrate” The midfielder said as if it was obvious

“I give up” Irene muttered while pulling out her phone to message her wife and have something to talk about, that was until her phone was snatched out of her hands and she looked up to see Alexia pull out another notebook from her bag with a new pen and handing it to Irene

“Scout too, in case me or Aitana don’t notice something and you do” Alexia smiled at her while Irene just sighed and accepted the notebook, she knew when to pick her battles and this one? She was definitely not going to win

….

There was not any real damaging action from either team until the minute 36 when Ella Toone and Alessia Russo got the better of the Mexican defense and giving England the lead

“Vamos! Es un gol nadamas!” You tried to keep the high spirits of your team, while at the same time trying to keep your own high spirits (Come on! It’s just one goal)

“La niña tiene razón, es solo un gol, ¿qué es un gol? podemos hacerlo equipo!” Rebeca, your Captain spoke trying to get your teammates into focus and mostly to get their shit together so you continue to play focused and towards a goal (The kid is right, it’s just one goal, what’s one goal?, we can do it!)

And battle it out you did, at least until the half-time whistle went off without another goal from either side, you ran quickly towards the lockeroom trying to get there as soon as possible to be able to hear your staff’s point of view and know how to be better in the second half

As you listened to the main points you took off your cleats and changed your socks, it was a little ritual of yours if a game was not going how it was supposed to be going, you would change your appearance towards the other half down to your cleats

You finished the final touches and then were ready to go out there again, to give it your all

“Hey niña, ven aqui” Jackie grabbed your arm so you walked with her “I have a plan” you patiently listened to her as she detailed her plan to you and it did make a little sense, so you said, why not? What did you have to lose (Hey kid, come here, I have a plan)

….

When the whistle to the second half sounds Alexia was a little nervous, she had seen how England was able to neutralize you and your teammates and turning over Mexico’s chances to attack in chances for England

It was a bit of back and forth from both teams until the minute sixty two where you somehow got free from your mark and started to run ahead of you towards the goal, the only thing between the net and you were two defenders and the goalkeeper

She saw how Carter and Bright were trying to keep you at bay while Greenwood was running like her life depends on it trying to get to you and maybe tackle you from behind until you were a few meters behind the box and you kicked the ball as hard as you could towards the goal and really there was nothing Earps could have don but let in one of the most stunning goals she has ever seen

She screamed whit the whole stadium because how could she not with a goal like that? and once she looked around she realized she wasn’t the only one, her whole team was also cheering and hollering because of your goal and to her it was surprising the excitement of the stadium taking as you eliminated the hosts but it seemed that there were quite a lot of Mexicans in the stands

“Te apuesto 150 euros que México gana el partido” she Heard Ona shout towards Laia while the blonde girl laughed (I bet 150 euros that Mexico wins)

“Pues yo te apuesto 250 que Inglaterra gana” Laia extended her hand towards Ona who accepted it with a grin and Alexia could only shake her head in amusement, kids right (Well I bet 250 that England wins)

Alexia couldn’t lie she was excited to see how the match would progress and she didn’t have to wait much as in the seventy minute with Mexico in possession to attack a mismatch happened in England’s defense where Carter couldn’t take possession of the ball and ironically number 11 capitalized in it, just giving the ball some direction to put it past Earps

If Alexia thought the Stadium was loud after your goal now it seemed to tremble with how loud the crowd was celebrating, Alexia found herself celebrating too it has been some time since she had seen a good match in which she did not participate and she was enjoying it so much

“Ale si de verdad no logramos que venga al equipo, lo considerare un gran fracaso por mucho tiempo” Aitana told her once things had calmed down a little (Ale if we really don’t get her to the team, I’ll consider it a great failure for a really long time)

“Yo igual” She told the younger woman while laughing a little bit (Me too)

And for some time Alexia thought that was it but she was sorely mistaken when in the eighty four minute England conceded a corner and she thought the ball was cleared by one of Mary’s hand until the ball landed perfectly in front of you and without really thinking about it you kicked it towards the goal and no matter how many English players were there they couldn’t prevent it, making it 3-1

She saw you run towards the corner and do a knee slide towards the flag while raising your arms towards the sky and then get swarmed by your teammates in celebrations

“Parece ser que nos enfrentaremos a México” Irene said to her once they were seated again making her chuckle (It looks like we’ll have to face México)

But no one better than Spain knew that you should never give England for dead because not even a minute later they retaliated because in all honestly Mexico’s defense was asleep there, a beautiful teamwork between Hemp and Russo, the later being the one that scored but it wouldn’t have helped anyway because for the rest of the match Mexico’s defense improved and didn’t let any mistakes happen

And then the final whistle happened, it was over, England’s journey came to an end towards the final stage and the final would be between Spain and Mexico

....

Part 5

#woso #woso x reader #barca femeni #aitana bonmati #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca x reader #england lionesses

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p1astr81 · 6 months ago

Text

Spidey-Osc! -op81

in which: Oscar Piastri takes on the double life of being a high school student and also the hero of New York. While playing the part of spider-man, Oscar starts to get closer to his classmate, a girl he otherwise wouldn’t have dared to even look at. (au)

(based on Tom Holland’s spiderman, with the webbing mechanism of Toby’s)

pairing: spiderman!oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, lots of exposition, not proof read… (lmk if there’s anything else!)

an: isn’t my editing fabulous guys?? for the purpose of this, everyone is 18. This will also be multiple parts, this being part 1.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Oscar swung between the towering buildings of New York, his eyes hyper focused on the scum who just stole the donations from Santa’s Salvation Army bucket. The guy clearly wasn’t too smart, as he was dressed in a bright red coat. That only made it easier for Oscar to track him from the high altitude.

The perpetrator ducked into an alleyway, which Oscar took as his cue to begin chasing him on foot. Webbing between tight alleyways was a recipe for disaster. Or disastri, as his two friends loved to joke.

As he dropped onto the sidewalks, he slipped on a patch of ice and ended up bumping shoulders roughly with a girl. In a rush, he threw a quick sorry! In her direction. But he took note of her clothing. White coat, pale pink gloves, the color of her hair. It would be difficult, but he would find her later and apologize properly.

For now, he had a thief to chase. “Hey!” He called after the guy as he began to climb a fire escape. Really? Oscar thought to himself. Trying to get away by climbing? While I can scale the Empire State Building in seconds? Evidently, the guy wasn’t very smart.

As the red coat guy reached for another rung of the ladder, Oscar shot a web from his wrist, sticking his hand to the rung. The guy let out a sound of frustration as Oscar webbed his feet in place, too.

Oscar pulled his phone out, and called the local police. An easy task for him, as he had their number saved.

Once he’d called in the crime, he began to heckle the red coat guy. “Stealing from charity? That should be a federal offense.” He tsk’ed under his mask.

“Don’t you have something better to be doing?” The criminal insulted. “Don’t you?” Oscar fired back quickly, his hands perched on his hips. The guy responded with a grunt as he tried to yank his hands and feet free. It was no use.

The pair of them heard the police siren looming closer, and red coat guy was frantically trying to free himself. Oscar chuckled.

A singular cop car stopped outside the alleyway, and a single cop stepped out of the vehicle. Could Oscar really have asked for much more from the NYPD? Definitely not.

“I’ll let you take it from here,” Oscar told the cop before quickly scaling the side of the building. He got a running headstart, and jumped from the side, slinging a web out to the nearest building. Oscar lifted his feet as to not scrape them along the pavement. He continued down the streets of New York, his eyes on the lookout for the white coat girl. Unfortunately, Oscar never found her.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar grabbed his anatomy book from his locker and as soon as his hand was withdrawn, his locker was shut by another force.

Logan.

“Mate, I get you’re spiderman and all,” he lowered his voice, not wanting to expose Oscar’s secret identity. “But you were supposed to come over and play video games with me and Fred.”

Oscar sighed. “I forgot.” He ran a hand over his face. “Dude. This is the third time.” Logan pointed out, highly annoyed.

“I know.”

Oscar opened his locker once again to retrieve his anatomy notebook and binder.

“Excuse me.” He heard from beside him. He looked up, his eyes quickly finding you as you waited for Logan to move away from your locker that he was currently leaning on.

It was luck of the draw when it came to Oscar getting a locker next to the most popular, prettiest, and smartest girl in his year. Every guy would kill to have his locker. In fact, a lot of them tried to pay him to switch. He didn’t, of course.

He thought the proximity of your lockers would help him make a move. But Oscar was awkward, and there was this nagging voice in the back of his head that told him you were way out of his league.

So to spare his dignity, everyday he would keep his head down and wouldn’t even dare to look in your direction.

Today, he did. And he quickly took note of the white puffer jacket you wore. And the corner of his eye caught sight of pale pink gloves sticking out of your pocket. And your hair color, well, it was the exact same as the girl he bumped into on the street yesterday. He bumped into you yesterday.

Logan apologized, stepping to the side so you could grab your supplies for your anatomy class next period.

When you walked away, Logan lowered his voice and gushed, “did you see that? She talked to me!” It snapped Oscar out of his trance. He laughed and shook his head. “Because you were in her way.”

Logan shrugged. “A win is a win.” He replied.

Oscar chuckled. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He parted ways with Logan, walking the short distance to his anatomy class.

Halfway through anatomy, Oscar’s desk mate, Lando, leaned over into his space. “What’re the odds you think I can get her to tutor me?” He whispered. Oscar knew who he was talking about. You. You sat at the table in front of the pair with one of your good friends, Alexandra.

Now, Oscar and Lando weren’t friends per say. They didn’t hang out outside of school, but they were friendly.

“I’d say if your intentions aren’t to get with her, then decently high.”

“Well, obviously my intentions are to get with her, but she doesn’t need to know that.” Lando sassed.

“Yeah well you don’t think-“

“Piastri,” Mrs. Coulson called.

“Yes?”

“Which valve is this?” Her ruler pointed to the valve between the right atrium and right ventricle.

“Uh,” He thought quickly. “AV bicuspid.” He answered, and noticed that you had turned around enough in your chair to lock eyes with him.

Mrs Coulson hummed, clearly unsatisfied that he actually got the answer. “Pay attention.”

He watched as you tried to hold back a laugh. Whether it was at him for being caught out and not paying attention, or at the teacher for failing to embarrass him, he didn’t know.

You turned back around in your chair, and leaned over to Alex. “I’ve never got a good look at him, but he’s actually kinda cute.” You whispered, chuckling with Alex.

And because of Oscar’s enhanced hearing, he heard it. He felt his face immediately heat up.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

As was routine, Oscar found himself swinging from building to building. It was a rather slow day. Anything that caught his attention either turned out to be nothing, or the cops where already on it.

That was until he heard a shout. A quick “hey!” Nearly muffled in it’s entirety by the heavy blankets of snow.

But Oscar heard it, and quickly scanned the area to identify the problem. He nearly groaned when he realized it was another robbery. Safe to say, he was bored of taking care of thieves.

Nonetheless, he swooped down, webbing the small pink bag from the perpetrators hands and yanking it from their hold.

He stood on top of a lap post. “Who does this belong to?” He called, but almost everyone on the sidewalk below ignored him. Well, all but one.

You stood at the bottom of the street lamp. “It’s mine!” You called up. Oscar froze momentarily when he locked eyes with you. Quickly, he snapped himself out of it, dropping down smoothly in front of you.

“Here you go, uhm, ma’am.”

Accepting her handbag, she raised a brow. “Ma’am? Wow that makes me feel old.” She chuckled.

Oscar started to panic. “I just meant… well you don’t look old. You look amazing actually—er, uhm—young, I meant.” He was making a total fool of himself. Thank god for the mask, he thought.

You laughed. It was a sound that tickled something inside Oscar’s brain and made him feel warm inside, despite the freezing cold air that threatened his body with hypothermia.

“Well, thank you.” You smiled, and the warmth inside Oscar’s body intensified.

My god he was down bad.

“Oh! Also, I bumped into you yesterday. Never got to properly apologize for that. So, I’m very sorry about that.”

You laughed again. “Did I hear that right? Spider-man remembered my face? I’m truly honored.”

Oscar did not miss the way your eyes slowly raked over his body, shamelessly checking him out. His face was on fire. Just wait ‘til Logan hears about this.

He tried to play it smooth, but his laugh came out awkward. “I should probably get back to protecting the city.” He cringed as the words came out of his mouth. “Yeah probably,” you nodded, ginning at him. “See ya, Spiderman.”

“See ya, (y/n)!”

He left you with that, throwing a web at the building across the street and leveraging himself 15 stories into the air.

He didn’t even realize he’d called you by your name.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

He arrived at Logan’s soon after, still in his suit. He hoped no one was watching as spiderman sneaking through the window of a random house would surely stir up some stories.

Logan and Fred paused their game when they say the human spider crawling through the window. “I see you didn’t forget today.” Logan jabbed.

Oscar waved his hand through the air, ripping off his mask and moving to sit between them. “You guys aren’t going to believe who I just talked to.”

They both stared at him, unmoving, waiting for him to tell them. “Y/n. Y/l/n.” Logan tilted his head the slightest degree, his eyes narrowing. Fred just stared blankly. “And I think she was flirting with me.”

Logan bursted out laughing. “She wasn’t flirting with you. She was flirting with spider-man.”

“Yeah but who wears the suit? Me.” Oscar pointed out.

“But every girl would flirt with spider-man. I think Megan Fox would flirt with Spider-Man.”

Oscar shoved him roughly. “Shut up, man. You’re just mad she didn’t flirt with you.” And then Oscar remembered the conversation he overheard during anatomy earlier that day. “And! She was talking to Alex during anatomy and I heard her call me cute.”

Logan bit back a laugh. “Cute? Like how you would describe a bunny?”

Oscar rolled his eyes.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

“Alex, you’re never going to believe what happened to me yesterday.” You walked into anatomy gushing.

Oscar straightened up a little, prepared to shamelessly eavesdrop.

“Ugh, did you finally get that hot guys number who dresses up as hawkeye?” You smiled, shaking your head. “I told you, if you want his number you’re going to have to get it yourself. I’m not helping you with that.” You laughed.

“But no, yesterday, on my way to work, my bag was stolen and guess who got it back for me?” You gushed. Alex raised her brows and motioned for you to continue. “Spider-man. And then when he gave it back, he started flirting with me!”

From beside you, Lando scoffed. The girls turned around in their seats, looking at him with questioning glances. “He’s not even all that. He’s a guy swinging about in his pajamas. He’s no Captain America.” Ouch.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that cause he’s built better than you.” Your gaze shifted to meet Oscar’s

“What do you think about him, Piastri?”

“Uhm,” he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I think he’s… chill.”

Your grin did it’s best to hold back your laugh, but it ultimately came out anyway. A light chuckle. Unknowingly, your gaze drifted to his biceps, which were hardly contained by his shirt. The cuffs of the short-sleeve where borderline strangling his arms. You raised your brows, looking to Lando. “I think you should ask your friend for some gym advice.”

Oscar felt his face heat up. Was she… flirting with me? Not as Spider-Man… but as just me? Oscar questioned to himself. Surely not. Surely she was just trying to get under Lando’s skin.

I’m out of her league, he reminded himself

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar worked on autopilot. Web, swing, scout. Web, swing, scout. The cycle came naturally to him. He hardly even thought about where he was shooting his webs.

As much as Oscar wanted the city to be safe, it was getting quite boring nowadays. Most days, he would end up on a rooftop somewhere, sitting on the ledge and she paid half attention to the streets below. Most of his attention would be directed to his phone where he scrolled through socials.

A scene caught Oscar’s attention, and he realized his boring night might not be so boring after all.

A girl, sat on the edge of a cafe rooftop, adorned in a white coat and pink gloves. Oscar dropped down softly behind you.

“You shouldn’t be so close it the edge. It’s dangerous.” He called. You smiled brightly, twisting your head to see him. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”

Oscar bowed his head and joined her on the ledge. “I suppose it did, yes.”

It began to snow lightly, flakes falling on your eyelashes as you looked out over the city.

“So, what are you up here for anyway?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m on break. I work in the cafe.” You explained while gesturing down to the building you were both sitting on top of. Oscar leaned over the ledge to peek at the side of the building. Indeed, it was a cafe. “And…” you started, facing him. “Like I said, to get your attention.”

Under the mask, he lifted his brows. “Really? Is there something you need?” He asked, wondering if something was wrong.

You laughed, your head bowing as you did so. “No.” You shook your head, smiling at him. “You’re just…” you shrugged. “Nice to talk to.”

Oscar felt his face heat up as he started to fiddle around with his fingers. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t Oscar you were saying this to. It was spider-man.

You tried not to laugh at how obviously flustered he was. But it was quite the ego boost, knowing she made a superhero nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that one before. Definitely been told the opposite though.” He joked and you laughed. That felt like a huge accomplishment to Oscar.

“But I was wondering,” you started, staring out at the city once again. You swung your legs through the air. “how did you know my name yesterday? I know I never told you it.” Your narrowed eyes interrogated him. Your expression daring and intimidating.

He quickly scanned his brain for an excuse. “Maybe I said something that sounded like your name?” He offered. You didn’t buy it and shook your head pointedly. “No. I know I heard you right.” You were sure.

Oscar sighed. “It’s on the inside of your bag.” He gestured to the same one lying next to you. You checked it and saw he was right. “I didn’t want you to think I was creepy.” He sighed.

“Oh, well-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, as the watch on his wrist began to incessantly beep. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this.” He excused himself, jumping to a nearby rooftop.

Once he was sure he was no longer within earshot, he answered Tony’s call.

“Kid, I need you at the compound.” Tony sighed through the speakers.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“No. I need you to help me wrap Morgan’s presents. I bought way too many.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #op81 #spiderman!oscar piastri

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verstappen-cult · 1 year ago

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i love ur writing sm🥹🥹 i would love a scenario where y/n is dating max & charles,and she's a somgwriter who often wakes up in the nighttime with lyrics in her mind and has to sneak out of bed to write them down/make voice notes of the songs so she doesnt forget😭😭 maybe sometimes they wake up and they love to listen to her singing but keep it a secret between them so she doesnt feel bad ab waking them accidentally 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Max is the first one to wake up when he feels you getting out of bed, being very careful as to not wake them. As always. He pretends to be asleep when he sees you turning around to make sure they’re still sleeping, and Max can’t help the smile that appears on his face.

He lies there, unable to fall back to sleep knowing what you’re doing in the living room.

Charles wakes up when he turns around and doesn’t feel your body next to him. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and snuggles closer to Max, who happily opens his arms for him.

“How long has she been awake?” Charles asks, head resting on his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’ve been hearing her for about ten minutes.” Max answers, closing his eyes and trying to make out your whispered words from across the hall.

“You think she knows?” Charles smiles against Max’s chest when he hears your beautiful voice, followed by a curse when it doesn’t sound right.

Max shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

They stay silent, barely breathing, when you start signing again. They’re glad that it’s three in the morning and the city is sleeping because it’s possible for them to make a few words of the song. You never let them hear your songs, at least not after they’re finished, so they feel pretty lucky when they witness these kinds of moments.

“Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long,” Max smiles. You’re back to writing the song that has become his favorite, even though it is definitely not finished but the words, the way you sing, what you’re trying to tell through those words? Max feels identified. “And I’ve been meaning to… ugh no!” He hears the frustration in your voice and wishes to be there with you to tell you how beautiful the lyrics are.

“You think we should tell her?” Charles looks up at Max, hand caressing his naked chest.

“No, or she’ll stop.” Max leans to place a kiss on Charles forehead.

“I don’t want that,” Charles pouts, closing his eyes to try to fall back to sleep with your voice. “I like listening to her process.”

Max silently agrees. He follows Charles’ example and closes his eyes too, still paying attention to the words falling from your lips.

“And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad and that must be why,”

Charles hugs his boyfriend tightly and places a soft kiss right above his heart. They both know the meaning of those lyrics, even if you haven’t told them anything yet.

“And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates. Then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet.”

Those are the last words they hear before falling asleep.

They don’t know at what time you went back to bed, but the next morning you’re sound asleep, snoring peacefully, snuggled between them. The only proof of your little escapade is your bulging notebook of lyrics on the coffee table and a blanket on the couch.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #poly!f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff

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hitlikehammers · 2 months ago

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🎸That One Time Gareth Had To Square With The Reality of Eddie with Steve Harrington and/or Gareth Being Kind of a Dick Without Just Cause

🤘OR: 1/5 times Steve/Eddie talk to anyone but each other about their feelings (for each other), +1 (other time they turn around and talk to one another)

“These aren’t in Jeff’s range, man.”

Eddie’s been bowed over a notebook for hours now, co-opting the bed in Gareth’s room while the actual fucking owner of the room gets relegated to the desk chair. As soon as Eddie’d been miraculously saved and recovered enough to get out of the hospital, and then out of his new house—first time Gareth had him over, he’d offered the bed without question, propped up his still-recovering friend and got a genuine attempt at a smile through the still constant pain as he’d basically walled Eddie in with pillows. Mostly out of concern; but not empty of guilt.

But those days are thankfully behind them now and if Gareth needed anybadditional proof that Eddie was more than back to himself?

It’s that he still sprawls wide over Gareth’s bedspread, just like the throne in the drama room—entitled, and comfortable with it, despite how the way he folds himself over his books is, just, painfullooking,

“Hmm?” Eddie’s still distracted, but he at least looks up from his campaign notebook when Gareth shakes his lyrics notebook loud enough to make a rustley noise at a pitch that’s hard to ignore.

“They aren’t in your range, either. Which one of us are you planning to have try and hit this?” Gareth taps the top line of scribbled notes across the ruled pages; “and embarrass the fuck out of ourselves for it, Jesus,” he mutters, because: seriously.

None of them can hold this pitch. Any of these—they might be able to convince Grant to try for the laugh because he reads the worst of the four of them, but he’s not so sheet-music-illiterate that the entertainment frankly wouldn’t last long enough to really be worth it.

Gareth doesn’t exactly process that he hasn’t gotten any kind of response at all to his bitching—which, if he’d been paying attention, would have been his first clue; but he doesn’t process the absence of Eddie’s retort because he’s finally pairing the notes to the words scribbled on the page opposite them.

“Dude,” Gareth taps more insistently at the only-just-legible letters—unfortunately for Gareth, he reads Eddie-scratch well.

“These the lyrics that go with it?”

He still doesn’t get an answer, but he…he doesn’t really need one.

Because he’s clear that the lyrics go with the staffs. And the lyrics are…

The lyrics are clearly all about one King Steve Harrington.

Gareth sighs a little, to himself on purpose even though it’s probably not important to try and make it subtle: Eddie’s in his own world, still, and Gareth, well, like…

Gareth’s had the hardest time accepting…Steve. And Eddie. Steve with Eddie.

And he’s gone through the stages of disbelief hard for it: fury, followed by giving an ice-cold silent treatment, and then intentional obliviousness. Now he’s kinda been…forcibly cordial in a way that, if he’s being honest with himself, he knows is the most offensive of the attitudes he’s landed on so far.

It’s just that…Steve never did anything to him, or their friends. Gareth knows that. And he knows it’s not fair to judge someone solely by the company they keep, especially when they broke really publicly and like they meant to with that exact company. It’s just…

Harrington could have changed things for people like them. He could have called off the dogs when he was at the top and maybe they’d have learned to lay off the freaks and nerds even after he tumbled from grace.

And if he was with Eddie, now—like, actually withEddie like Eddie claims, like the lyrics in the notebook clearly spell out, even though Gareth’s never seen them do more than slap each other’s backs when Eddie’s ride’s out of commission and he needs a chauffeur from practice, or they hold Not-Hellfire-Anymore-New-Name-Pending at the guy’s massive house—and don’t get Gareth started on how awkward that shit had been; still is, for him, as the only holdout on the goddamn Harrington charm, fucking gag him—

But if he’s with Eddie? Why the fuck couldn’t Harrington have maybe gotten his so-called friends to ease off the queers, too? Just be less…loud about it, if he was one of them, even in the closet? And how could Eddie stand for that, like, none of them were out out, and it’s not like the freaks have a ton of options anyway, even guys who glanced both ways like Gareth did—and apparently Harrington too, unless everything else before had been a facade, or self-deception. But like, how could Eddie, loud about everything, shack up with someone who—and yeah, this one was hearsay, but still—but someone who’d called out the eldest Byers for being a queer, even if it did leave him with the shit beat out of him after, and Byers stealing his former girl in a very-not-queer way?

How could Eddie…date someone who hated what he was enough to egg on one of their fellow freaks, or at least a weirdo-adjacent comrade, like that?

Even just once.

But Gareth’s not blind to how just looking at Harrington now would hint he’s someone different, whether the rumors had been true or not. And Gareth knows he’s held on to this…grudge, thing, to the point of being unreasonable. His bandmates have both taken him aside one-to-one, tried to be Switzerland about it, calm in the middle, but both made out in Steve’s favor. And yes: Gareth knew, and agreed, even before he’d reached the point he’s at now, that they should be grateful their friend is alive, thankful for the way—even if he’s never owned it to them himself, Eddie’d sung his praises even before there was more for him to sing—but they should all be grateful that Harrington pulled him out, got him help, kept him breathing long enough. They should be happy for their friend who they’ve never seen happier, even through the long slog of rehab; the long months he couldn’t even hold a pen steady, let alone his guitar.

They should trust Eddie on the topic of Steve until proven otherwise. And…all Steve’s been doing is proving Eddie right, and then some.

And the freshmen, they just stare at him a little cooler, generally, which sucks. He didn’t realize he gave as much a shit as he apparently does about the pipsqueaks beyond how they played and what they rolled—but yeah.

Turns out he actually gives a decent amount of a shit when he has to square with the way they side with Steve, too. Steve, it seems, even over Eddie, which: they’d been pumped so full of hero-worship that it’d been frankly annoying after the first couple months but, apparently that didn’t hold a candle to Harrington+.

So like: Gareth knows he’s outnumbered. And he’s been outnumbered now long enough that he isstarting to wonder if maybe he’s the one who’s got it wrong. Unthinkable, at first.

But…even Wheeler scowls at him. He does kinda scowl at everyone, always, but when Steve Harrington comes up?

It’s a special scowl just for Gareth.

“Eddie?” Gareth turns to being a nuisance, knows that’s the only way he’ll pry Eddie out of his zone. “Earth to Munson,” he waves the notebook he’d been reading from in front of Eddie’s view of his campaign outline in the other; “come in Munson!”

“Knock it off,” Eddie splutters when a page finally tickles his nose, batting Gareth away and blinking, like he’s gotta remember where he is.

Typical.

“This shit’s not your style,” Gareth doesn’t think it’s worth mincing words. That’s not who they are, the friendship they have.

And Gareth…Gareth read the words, right?

He’s maybe…he’s maybe been a fucking stick in the mud about one of his closest, oldest friends’ love life for long enough already.

“Says who?” Eddie snaps a little, that razor-edge peeking out of his retort. “I fuckin’ wrote it, ergo,” he snatches the second notebook straight out of Gareth’s hands:

“My style.”

Gareth huffs, and moves over to the bed. Because, like…bite the bullet. Slay the monster.

Save that…that’s not it, is it? More like…

Man up and own your own bullshit, Gareth Emerson.

“It’s not the band’s style,” he says, and keeps his tone tight not because…well. Mostly just so it doesn’t stray where he doesn’t want it to go.

He anticipates the way Eddie snaps—also knows Eddie well enough to see it for what it is: far less dramatic than it could have been:

“Maybe I didn’t write it with the band as the first thought in my fucking mind, man,” he bites a little, but more than that?

It sounds tired. And Gareth…

Gareth knew he’d feel like shit when he finally squared with this, with how he’s handled…the Steve thing.

Or probably more like not-handled-it-at-all.

“It’s,” Gareth leans, peers over Eddie’s shoulder at the notebook in his hands, still open to what Gareth had read.

“It’s a love song.”

Because there’s no other word for it. But there’s also no denying the obvious:

“But you’re not singing it.”

Eddie huffs—there’s the drama.

“My falsetto is impressive—”

“Not just that, the lyrics,” Gareth says, tone still reined in, but he lets himself be curious, kinda prod at the obvious thing held between them, scratched in ink.

“They’re like a letter you wrote, to someone you love, but like, for them to read.”

Gareth looks over at Eddie, knows Eddie feels it, may even see it from his peripherals even if he won’t turn to meet him before Gareth calls out the glaring heart of it all:

“To you.”

The guilt sinks its teeth a little deeper, when Eddie holds himself so goddamn still.

“What’s Harrington’s range?” Gareth asks, lets that guilt soften his tone, loosen his limbs. Open him up to the reality of…his best friend being actually-probably-no-longer-deniably ass-over-tits in love.

“Tenor, like, naturally. I think,” Eddie’s immediate to answer, and that only solidifies the reality for Gareth, here—Eddie knows the man he loves, musically. “But he’s got an insane voice, man, I mean, the shit he can do…”

“Maybe I thought,” and fuck, Eddie sounds almost hesitant, it’s so clear in comparison to how quick and sure he was just a second before; “like, not for our shit, but maybe he can just, like, even just the two of us, him and me before we wrap, or after even, and he can, just, like,” Eddie’s slows the words like he’s trying to build up to something unthinkable, something that almost cows him for a second, but even that’s so not Eddie:

“Sing it.”

Eddie looks purposefully away and Gareth…

Gareth’s admittedly kinda reeling—how did hesomehow make his friend sound like he was trying to be small, and Eddie of all his friends, at that?—but the lyrics are romantic. Are goddamn yearning. Are asking for forever in a way that’s kind of scary, but are asking from a place that’s positioned as the weaker party, the one begging for that idea of always, and so just in case, for both Eddie’s sake but also possibly for Gareth’s because maybe there’s something deeper, something sinister to this love-fest he’d been right to hold out against—

“Does he make you feel like you’re not—”

“God, no,” Eddie nearly snorts, like he’s never heard Gareth be so absurd in all the years they’ve known each other; which says a lot.

And solidifies Gareth’s sole position as the tool, here. Probably from the very start.

“He makes me feel anything but. I don’t fuckin’ understand it,” and that smile of Eddie’s, it’s not lesser at all, somehow. But it is softer.

“I’m a little terrified by how much I can’t possibly deserve it,” Eddie’s tone shifts to something that’s not for Gareth anymore, and Gareth feels it acutely; like he’s lucky to be allowed to hear it. “But he thinks I do, somehow. He makes me feellike I,” and Eddie sighs out heavy, hard, shakes his head again in that wonder.

“He sees all these things in me without a second thought. Never any question,” Eddie taps at the side of the notebook with the words; “I just am,” and he swallows hard, Gareth can hear it; “needing some help to find them in myself.”

And Gareth…Gareth’s been in relationships, or thought he had. Watching Eddie right now, hearing the fucking blood-deep feeling …Gareth thinks maybe he’s never been in a real relationship in his fucking life.

And if that’s all because of Steve goddamn Harrington, inside the most cynical, jaded heart Gareth knows, in Eddie Munson with his diatribes and his doctrines?

Maybe Gareth has been even more wrong than he’d suspected, this whole fucking time.

“We maybe can’t hit the notes but,” Gareth finds himself saying without really thinking, straight on impulse, on a feeling of need. “We could play this, just,” Gareth reaches out for the side of the notebook Eddie isn’t holding to, the music;

“We could play this, like, fine,” Gareth clears his throat, feeling a little at sea; “I guess.”

He falters at the end, but Eddie’s lips twitch; he hears the stumbling for what it is.

“The lyrics aren’t for us, anyway, right? So,” Gareth shrugs, not really knowing where to go next, and Eddie finally turns to look at him straight-on.

“That’d be,” Eddie bites his lip a little, weirdly hesitant, too fucking thankful: “really awesome.”

“Mmm,” Gareth makes a noise instead of a word so his relief is less obvious. Then, once the relief wears off and he’s kinda fucking desperate for Eddie to be not…not cooped up and locked down in his presence. That’s not Eddie.

“You do, though,” Gareth says, hoping the gamble of pushing a little is a step in the right direction, the right move; “yeah?”

“I do, what?” Eddie asks; honest, too. He’s not leading Gareth past a quick horde of zombies just to throw him to the wolves with a Pit Fiend.

“Love him,” Gareth spells it out, nudging Eddie’s shoulder a little playfully, hoping it’ll diffuse the tension left; “s’a love song, so.”

And where Eddie could have clammed up, or shrugged Gareth off? Would…probably have been more than justified for it?

His face splits all the way open on the dopiest grin, something Gareth’s never seen the likes of on that face before.

It’s…it’s a really good look.

“So much more than you can imagine,” Eddie says, kinda marvelling, laughs a little disbelieving, like in actual fucking awe: “more than I ever could have.”

Well: damn.

“You’ve got a,” Gareth clears his throat, a little unexpectedly cowed by the shine of it all: “a pretty wild imagination.”

Somehow, impossibly, Eddie’s smile just gets more charged-up with wonder.

“Right?”

This time when Gareth stares, and Eddie feels it? He does turn.

“What?” He doesn’t look less…blissfully happy. Just curious.

“You love-love him,” Gareth says, with his own little shred of all that wondering because…this is bigger, deeper, more, for Eddie, than Gareth could have ever expected.

“I do,” Eddie nods, doesn’t falter, does not fucking hesitate, and it’s said in this way, this way where Gareth just knows that—

“You wanna say that,” Gareth says slowly, dawning realisation a weighty blow of a thing:

“You want to say that differently.”

He’s in this with Harrington. He’s…all the things he railed against a year ago. Eddie wants it, every bit of it, at Steve Harrington’s side.

Jesus fuck.

“If only,” Eddie murmurs, dreamy as any chick in homeroom had ever aimed for.

And Gareth? Is so grateful his friend is here. Alive. Breathing that kind of wanting into the world.

And Gareth…Gareth needs to fucking trust his friend.

“Bring him around,” Gareth says with conviction he doesn’t expect to come out so clear until it does; exactly as it needs to. “To sing, or not,” Gareth adds, then goes a little further: “more than just, like, picking you up and saying hi.”

Eddie turns to him, considers him for a long stretch. Gareth wonders if maybe he wasn’t as clear as he wanted to be, until—

“I do love him. With everything,” Eddie says slowly, with heart in it; “part of that is protecting him from getting hurt. Even if he doesn’t admit it, especially if he’s enough of a fucking fool to think he deserves it,” and Gareth doesn’t think Eddie blinks once; and if there was a question of who Eddie’s man needed protection from in his head; who he thought he deserved the cold shoulder from…

There’s no fucking question, now.

But while Eddie can be cruel, and Gareth thinks he would deserve it, here; instead Eddie’s careful, but��direct.

“You guys, you didn’t—”

“We were wrong,” Gareth cuts him off, suddenly…needing Eddie to know that he wasn’t in the wrong. That Steve wasn’t either. “We sucked.”

But that’s not even quite true, is it?

“I was wrong,” Gareth says, low and rough, ripped out heavy and hard. “I sucked.”

Eddie doesn’t say shit to that. Which is enough of a response-and-a-half.

“If he means that much, then he’s not going anywhere,” Gareth gathers himself to say, not as hard as he thought it would be—because it feels like this guy might not be everything Gareth built him up to be in his head.

“And we’re not going anywhere, so,” and Eddie’s mouth quirks up at that, which feels like a win.

“Bring him, more,” Gareth wishes he had his sticks to twirl, something to do with his hands as he offers an olive branch, or…the opposite, probably, or something different entirely—what is it called when you’re the one in the wrong, all on your own?

“If he wants,” Gareth finds himself adding in a rush because…what if maybe they’ve—no, he, what if he’s already lost his shot at trying to mend fences with the guy, if Eddie’s already felt all this time like his own friends were people to protect his what-sounds-definitely-like-more-than-a-boyfriend from?

“Tell him he doesn’t have to leave and come back after practice, or hide out upstairs during Not-Hellfire,” Gareth keeps going, mostly because he’s…he’s uneasy. Unsteady. He picks at the threads in his comforter until he makes a whole new hole before he swallows hard.

“He deserved better,” Gareth exhales hard, swallows at least a little of his own fucking pride, bitter as hell; “give us a shot to try and give him better.” His eyes flick up to Eddie, who’s the one watching him, now, so he looks Eddie in the eye when he says it:

“To give you both better.”

Eddie’s breath shudders out a little. But he doesn’t look away.

“Thank you,” and Eddie doesn’t sound small, exactly. But Gareth doesn’t think he’s ever heard his friend sound so…genuine. Like, really from the heart.

“Don’t mention it,” Gareth says, kinda automatic, before he wants to smack himself because: it’s shitty to just say that in the face of what might be Eddie letting Gareth in the tiniest bit to a part of himself that Gareth wasn’t even aware he’d maybe always been missing out on knowing.

“We love you, Ed,” Gareth says, and now his is the small voice; “we were so scared, when,” and he can’t say it. He cannot fucking say it—

“Me too,” Eddie throws him a lifeline for it; is a good fucking friend and the end of the day. And the he gets a slighter version of rhat dopey-ass grin again—but not even that much smaller—

“He saved me, y’know?” Eddie says, all big eyed and moony over it.

“Yeah,” Gareth tries not to sound like he wants to roll his eyes so hard it colors his tone—but he really does. Eddie’s only told them this part a million and five times.

“Not just from the quakes, he,” Eddie shakes his head, expression going introspective now:

“I wouldn’t have pulled back out, for all the bullshit, the doctors, the treatments, the recovery,” he shakes his head, marvelling again but…if not at something new—still Harrington—it’s like it’s from a different angle. And he does it like there are…near-infinite angles.

“I don’t even know if I would have put the effort in to learn to walk on my own again,” Eddie says plainly, doesn’t sugarcoat it; “or fuck, to playagain,” and Gareth feels the weight in it, the gravity, the unspoken underpinning:

I wouldn’t have come back, not really, without him.

And the fuck can Gareth even do with that?

“He pushed me,” and the way Eddie says it, it’s like it’s closer to a fond memory almost, and fucking how; “and was there to catch me,” and maybe that’s how, maybe falling in love like that smooths out the parts where you almost died in the process; “and he was there to make it better, whenever it hurt.”

Gareth can…Gareth can respect that. He doesn’t know if he can wholly understand it, still, but.

He can respect it.

“And he still is,” Eddies doing his marveling again, he’s might-break-his-face smiling again; “just in all these,” he shakes his head, floored inside his own mind: “these new and less dire fucking ways,” then he swallows, like his throat’s tight, and Gareth doesn’t get why until the next words come out:

“Still feels pretty life-or-death, though,” Eddie says, and his voice is a little soft this time with a clear sense of holding something damn-near holy; “never really bought how someone could be your whole heart like that, but then he…” Eddie trails off, looks over to Gareth, doesn’t quite blush.

But it’s a close fucking thing.

“Sorry,” Eddie clears his throat rough, looks away, and in that second Gareth gets it. Or else, clocks something extra that he didn’t realize or appreciate that he did entirely fucking wrong—a brand new layer to be guilty about.

“Don’t be,” he says, and he means it. “We were a place you could be safe with that,” which he also means, but not without having to tack on, almost like a physical requirement: “vomit-inducing as it is,” because, well.

He means that, also. A lot. He means that part a lot. But.

“We were a place you could be safe, and you didn’t feel like you could...”

Because they were the freaks. And maybe none of them were out-out but they knew who liked who, they knew each other. They all had each other’s backs. That was part of the whole point.

Except this time, when they…didn’t.

“It was shitty, not to, we...” and Gareth steels himself again because that’s not quite true, and he wants for do better, wants to be better:

“I was shitty.”

And maybe some of that resolve, that intention and decision to be someone safe and trusted again, with this, for Eddie and the person Eddie could love that big?

Maybe some of that sinks through because Eddie considers him with narrowed eyes for a couple of drawn out seconds before he breaks the spine of the notebook, flips it just to the music, hiding the words, and taps near the middle of the page.

“Help me tighten up this part?” he asks, like a peace offering when he’s not the one who needs to give one. “Want it to be perfect, y’know,” and this time Eddie does blush, but it’s almost like he has to, in order to smile that sweet around the confession that comes, no matter how obvious it is:

“I want it to be perfect, for him.”

And Gareth sees it all for what it is: an invitation. A cautious, hopeful extension of the trust Gareth had been betraying in his way, without meaning to. Without thinking about it as a whole.

“‘Course,” he says, reaches out and again, he means it; “hand it over.”

And this time when Eddie smiles, it’s also cautious.

But the hope is bigger, and Gareth thinks that means he’s finally on the right track.

1: Gareth // 2: Mrs. Harrington // 3: Wayne // 4: Chrissy // 5: ??? // +1: ???

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💫for @penny00dreadful—happiest of happy birthdays, my lovely 🖤

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ruewritesoccasionally · 5 months ago

Text

Lessons in Obsession | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Professor!Terry x Dark!Black Reader

Warnings: Dark themes and smut 18+, obsessive behaviour, stalking, manipulation, tension, power dynamics, references to other sexual acts, teasing, degradation kink (if you squint) } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: Lessons in Obsession follows a uni student whose innocent admiration for her professor, Terry, morphs into an all-consuming obsession but she's in for a surprise.

Word Count: 3.9K

a/n: okay i went a little wild with this one and unintentionally made it lowkey a thriller 🤭...something about dark!terry just hits but also i really wanted to see the reader crazy this time

The first time she noticed him, it wasn’t his sharp jawline or the way his voice rumbled through the lecture hall that caught her attention. It was something smaller, something more insignificant—a fleeting moment, really. He’d complimented her paper, a simple “Well done, solid work,” as he handed it back with a faint, approving smile. That was all it took.

She’d sat in the third row that day, blending into the sea of students, but in that moment, she felt seen. Not just noticed, but recognised, as though the hours she’d poured into her research had been worth something. His gaze lingered for half a second longer than it should have, or at least she thought it had. That was the moment her harmless admiration started to shift into something... darker.

By the next lecture, she’d made subtle adjustments. Arriving earlier, sitting closer to the front, ensuring her outfit was neat but understated—just enough for him to notice if he looked. And he did. She watched his eyes sweep over the room, landing on her briefly before continuing his scan. Her chest tightened, satisfaction unfurling within her like a bloom. He was paying attention.

From then on, her routine became calculated. She was always the first one there, slipping into her usual seat before anyone else arrived. A notebook rested behind her laptop, a perfect cover for her real intentions. While others scrambled to open their notes or chatted idly, she observed. Every flick of his wrist, every adjustment of his glasses, the way his brow furrowed when he lost his train of thought—it was all committed to memory, scribbled hastily into her private pages.

She told herself it was innocent at first. Just curiosity. He was an intriguing man, after all—intelligent, confident, effortlessly commanding. But as the days turned into weeks, her observations grew more intimate. She noticed how he favoured navy suits and brown loafers, how he drank his coffee black but occasionally indulged in a splash of cream. She tracked the times he left the building, the direction he walked, the car he drove.

By the third week, she knew the rhythm of his day better than her own. He parked in the same spot each morning, near the oak tree at the back of the lot. He stopped by the gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays, finishing just in time to grab a quick dinner before heading home. She even discovered his preferred brand of deodorant, catching a faint trace of it when he walked past her desk during a group discussion.

Her obsession didn’t feel wrong. It felt... natural. Like she was simply gathering pieces of a puzzle only she was meant to solve. And he made it so easy.

When he returned another marked paper with the note “Excellent insight” scrawled at the top, she’d felt the thrill shoot through her veins. She told herself it was his fault, really. The way he encouraged her, the way he looked at her like she was the only one in the room who truly understood. He’d lit the match—she was just fanning the flame.

And then came the moment that sealed everything.

A casual compliment, thrown out mid-discussion: “I can always count on you to ask the right questions.” It was nothing, really—just another piece of professional praise. But to her, it was gospel. Proof that she wasn’t imagining it. Proof that she wasn’t just another face in the crowd.

From then on, she didn’t just observe—she planned.

She had always prided herself on her precision, her ability to stay undetected even as her obsession simmered to a boil. The first few weeks were pure indulgence—watching, cataloguing, fantasising. But eventually, that wasn’t enough. Admiration alone couldn’t scratch the itch that had grown unbearable. She wanted more. Needed more.

The plan came to her slowly, like a puzzle clicking into place. It started with something small—an intentional "mistake." She had read the assignment prompt a dozen times and could recite it by heart, but she submitted a paper that was just the slightest bit off-topic. Not enough to raise suspicion, but enough for him to notice. Enough to warrant a conversation.

When he handed it back, there was a crease between his brows, a rare crack in his calm. His sharp grey-green eyes swept over her in quiet assessment, and she almost squirmed under their weight. “This isn’t like you,” he said, his tone curious rather than chastising. “You usually have such a firm grasp on the material. Are you all right?”

She had feigned confusion perfectly, tilting her head and furrowing her brow like she hadn’t a clue what he meant. “I thought I was following the prompt,” she’d murmured, her voice low and unsure, laced with just enough vulnerability to draw him in. “I... I’m sorry if I misunderstood.”

He paused, studying her carefully, his gaze steady, searching, and for a brief, electric moment, she thought he might be onto her. But then he nodded, his voice softening. “No need to apologise. These things happen. How about we go over it together? I want to make sure you’re on the right track.”

Bingo.

She had known where he lived long before the meeting was scheduled.

It wasn’t hard to figure out. He wasn’t exactly secretive about his habits—early morning gym sessions at the fitness centre across town, groceries from the upscale shop three blocks from campus, the quiet little bungalow tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac. She had seen him there once, unloading bags from his car, his low-cut black hair catching the golden evening light.

She had followed him home that day, her car creeping at just the right distance, her heart hammering against her ribs with each turn he took. By the time he pulled into his driveway, her palms were sweaty against the steering wheel, but the thrill had been unlike anything she’d ever felt. Watching him carry his life inside that house had felt... intimate. Like she had crossed some invisible line, though the rush of it outweighed any guilt she might have felt.

And then she had waited. Sat parked just beyond the bend, her eyes glued to the faint glow of light spilling from his windows. She counted how many steps he took to reach his front door, memorised the way he rolled his shoulders as he unlocked it. She watched the faint flicker of a screen—television or computer, she couldn’t tell—and made a note of the exact time the lights went off.

That night, she hadn’t slept. The image of him—so unaware, so vulnerable—played on a loop in her mind. She pictured him in bed, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Did he sleep on his back? His side? Did he keep the windows cracked open for fresh air? Did his sheets smell like him?

She knew she was losing control, but the thought of stopping never even crossed her mind.

Now, as she stood at his front door, that same thrill coursed through her veins, but it was darker this time. He had invited her into his world, unknowingly stepping into the web she had so carefully spun.

She had dressed with care—nothing too obvious, but enough to draw his eye. A fitted jacket that hugged her curves, an off-the-shoulder top that hinted at the lace of her bra, jeans that clung to her thighs just right. Beneath it all, her favourite matching lingerie. Soft, sheer, and black—a small, twisted part of her had hoped he’d see it. Her scent lingered subtly in the air, a soft floral undertone she knew he’d notice when she stepped close.

When he opened the door, his gaze swept over her briefly, his expression unreadable. But there it was—that flicker of recognition. Her chest tightened. “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside to let her pass. His voice was as calm and steady as always, but there was something in his tone—a weight, a tension—that made her heart race.

The office was neatly organised, books lining the walls, a sturdy desk in the centre. He gestured for her to sit, pulling a chair next to hers as he spread her assignment out on the desk. “Let’s start here,” he said, his tone patient as ever. He pointed to a line of text, explaining where she’d gone wrong, but she barely heard him.

She wasn’t looking at the paper. She was looking at him—at the way his hands moved, strong and deliberate, at the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke, at the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline. Her mind wandered, imagining those hands gripping her waist, those lips brushing her skin, that sharp look darkening with desire.

Her breathing quickened, her thighs pressing together as she fought to keep her composure. The tension in the room shifted, almost silent at first, but she felt it like a live wire crackling in the air.

He paused mid-sentence, his stormy eyes lifting to meet hers, and for a moment, the world stilled.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence as her lips curled into a soft smile. “Actually, Professor,” she said, leaning forward just slightly, “it’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, and then, to her surprise, he leaned back in his chair, setting the paper down. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone unreadable, though she could swear she saw the faintest glimmer of something darker in his eyes.

She leaned forward, emboldened by his lack of resistance, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe you should... loosen up a bit.

Her gaze locked on his as her jacket slid from her shoulders and pooled on the chair behind her. The fitted top she wore clung to her curves, the delicate lace of her bra peeking out just enough to tempt.

Terry’s eyes flickered, briefly taking in the sight, but his expression remained unreadable, calm as ever. It should have unnerved her, the lack of visible reaction, but she told herself this was progress. She was finally breaking through his wall of professionalism. Encouraged by his lack of protest, she leaned in further, her fingers brushing lightly against the desk as she closed some of the distance between them. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she felt inspirit, her confidence bolstered by the way he didn’t pull away, didn’t reprimand her for overstepping.

Instead, he let her.

He let her reach out, let her fingertips graze his wrist as she tried to gauge his reaction. She thought she saw the muscles in his jaw tighten, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull away. It was thrilling, intoxicating, the idea that she might finally have him in the palm of her hand.

When he didn’t stop her, she leaned closer still, her lips parting slightly as her courage reached its peak. She let her hand slide just a little higher, brushing over the cuff of his shirt as her breath mingled with his, their faces close enough now that she could see the faint flecks of amber in his irises.

And still, he let her.

It wasn’t until she dared to press her lips against his—soft, testing, an invitation—that she thought she felt him falter. A low hum rumbled in his throat, almost inaudible, and for a moment, she thought she’d won.

But then he tilted his head, just slightly, and though he kissed her back with equal softness, there was something unnervingly controlled about it—something that made her question things for an entirely different reason.

The air between them thickened, charged with a sensual tension that felt almost surreal. Her fingers curled against his forearm, and he didn’t stop her. Instead, he let her deepen the kiss, let her pour every ounce of her desire and audacity into it.

She took the opportunity to push further, her confidence blooming as she climbed onto his lap, her thighs brushing against his.

But that’s when it happened.

His hands caught her waist, stopping her in her tracks with a firm but unhurried grip. He leaned back just slightly, and a low, dark chuckle escaped his lips, rich and full of something she couldn’t quite place.

And just like that, his entire demeanour shifted.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, a dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and rich, sending a shiver down her spine.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she had him. The charged silence hung thick between them, the weight of her audacity filling the room as she leaned closer, her lips parting slightly, her confidence swelling.

He hadn’t stopped her until that point.

His calm was unnerving, but she mistook it for hesitation. Perhaps he was struggling to reconcile his professionalism with the pull of desire she was certain she saw flash in his stormy green-grey eyes. She thrived on that uncertainty, on the possibility that she had thrown him off balance.

“You’re quiet, Professor,” she murmured, her voice a mix of sweet innocence and teasing allure. Her fingertips grazed the edge of the desk, creeping ever so slightly toward him. “Cat got your tongue?”

It was then—when his lips curved into the faintest smirk—that she realised she’d miscalculated.

“Not quite,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Her confidence wavered as he leaned back in his chair, the casualness of his movements at odds with the sudden weight in his gaze. That smirk deepened, dark and knowing, and it felt like the room had shifted—like the power she thought she held had been ripped from her hands without her even noticing.

“You think you’ve been clever, don’t you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. His tone was almost amused, but there was something beneath it—something sharper, darker.

Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, her breath catching in her throat. “I... I don’t know what you mean,” she managed, though the words felt weak, flimsy in the charged space between them.

“Oh, I think you do.” His gaze dropped to her hands, still resting on the desk, and he let out a soft chuckle. “Let’s not pretend, sweetheart. You’ve been playing your little games for weeks now, haven’t you?”

She froze, her blood turning cold even as her skin burned with embarrassment.

“I have to say,” he continued, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the desk as he closed the distance between them. “You had me almost convinced. The shy, studious act? It’s impressive. Convincing. But I’ve been around long enough to recognise obsession when I see it.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked, his voice soft but cutting. “The way you’re always first in, always last out? The way your eyes never leave me during lectures? How you scribble in that little notebook of yours like your life depends on it?” He chuckled again, the sound low and unsettling. “I’d almost feel flattered if it weren’t so... obvious.”

Her head spun, a mix of panic and exhilaration coursing through her. She wanted to deny it, to fight back, but his eyes held her captive, pinning her in place with their steady, unrelenting weight.

“And then there’s the gym,” he said, his tone taking on a darker edge. “That was a nice touch, by the way. Following me there. Taking your little pictures. Did you think I didn’t see you, lurking behind the machines, pretending to stretch? Did you really think I took my shirt off in the same spot every night because it was convenient?”

Her stomach dropped.

“No, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk widening as he leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I did it for you. Had to make sure you got some good material to play with yourself to later. I could still smell it on you the next day, you know.”

She gasped, her face burning with humiliation and arousal in equal measure.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet. “You thought you were being clever, didn’t you? All your little schemes and games. But here’s the thing, darling—you’re not the only one who knows how to play.”

She tried to speak, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt tight, her mind racing as he reached out, his fingers brushing over hers on the desk. The touch was light, almost gentle, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her, a silent reminder of just how out of her depth she was.

“You’re not nearly as covert as you think,” he continued, his voice low and laced with dark amusement. “But I’ll give you credit where it’s due. You’ve been entertaining. All those nights sitting in your car outside my house, thinking I didn’t notice. The way you memorised my schedule, my habits. The effort you put into dressing just right, spraying that little perfume of yours.”

He leaned back again, his smirk never wavering as he looked her over, his gaze sharp and assessing. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart. You were never in control. You thought you were pulling the strings, but you were dancing to my tune the whole time.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as his words sank in. She had been so careful, so meticulous, and yet...

He stood then, his presence towering and commanding, and she felt the shift in the air—the moment where the dynamic between them changed irreversibly.

“Now,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “Why don’t you show me what all that planning and fantasising was really about? Let’s see if you can live up to your little fantasies, hm?”

Her heart pounded, a mix of fear and desire flooding her veins as she realised there was no going back. He had seen through her from the start, had played along, letting her think she was in control. And now, he was ready to show her just how wrong she had been.

And she couldn’t wait.

The room felt heavy now, thickened by the desire, the air electric as her breathing quickened under his unrelenting gaze. She couldn’t bring herself to pull away, even as he smirked, his thumb lazily brushing the curve of her hip. It was unnervingly intimate, as though he had all the time in the world, his calmness only serving to highlight her spiralling frenzy.

"Come on," Terry murmured, his voice low, almost coaxing. "You’ve been dying for this moment. Show me how far you’re willing to go, sweetheart."

Her breath hitched, heat pooling between her thighs as his words cut through her like a blade. She didn’t care about the implications, didn’t care about the sudden shift in control. She was too far gone now.

Her lips parted, trembling, and she confessed, “I’ve watched you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her admission hung heavy between them.

“Watched me?” he echoed, a dark chuckle slipping past his lips. “That’s a bit vague, don’t you think? Be specific, baby. I want to hear it all.”

Her cheeks burned, but there was no escaping the command in his tone. “After the gym,” she murmured. “Every night, I—I watched you through the window. I saw how you took your shirt off, how you—”

“Let me guess,” he interrupted, his voice like velvet, laced with mockery. “You touched yourself while you watched, didn’t you? Sat there in the dark like a good little voyeur, pretending I didn’t know you were there.”

She swallowed hard, shame and arousal warring within her. But it didn’t matter anymore. He already knew. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “I did.”

Terry’s smirk widened, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled her closer. “And you thought I didn’t notice?” he asked, his voice soft but dripping with condescension. “Sweetheart, I was putting on a show for you. Every. Single. Time.”

Her eyes widened, her pulse hammering in her ears as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I can smell the desperation and arousal. Almost pathetic.”

A whimper escaped her lips, and he pulled back, his gaze dark and unforgiving as he studied her. “Go on,” he urged. “Confess the rest.”

The words spilled out of her in a breathless rush, each admission dragging her deeper into his control. She told him about the photos she’d taken, the times she’d followed him, the nights she’d sat outside his house just to feel close to him.

And he listened, calm and calculated, his smirk never faltering. “That’s quite the imagination you have,” he remarked. “Bet you thought you were the one pulling the strings, didn’t you?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her frustration mounting as he toyed with her. “You’re enjoying this,” she accused, her voice trembling.

“Oh, I’m more than enjoying it,” he replied, his tone dangerously low. “I’m giving you exactly what you’ve been begging for, aren’t I? Don’t waste it.”

The next moments were a blur of heat and sensation as he flipped her onto her back, his movements slow but purposeful, like he had all the time in the world. His hands mapped every inch of her, his touch teasing and relentless as he brought her to the edge over and over again, only to pull her back at the last second.

“You thought you could come here and take control?” he taunted, his fingers curling inside her just right, dragging a shattered moan from her lips. “No, sweetheart. This is my game. And you? You’re just a willing pawn.”

She surprised him then, her nails raking down his back as she arched into him, her teeth grazing his jaw in a show of defiance. “Maybe I want you to lose control,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on her thighs as he pinned her down, his crazed eyes locking onto hers. “Oh, you don’t want that,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The sequences after were just as intense, his dominance absolute as he unravelled her piece by piece. His words were filthy, his movements calculated to drive her mad, and she could do nothing but cling to him, her mind and body overwhelmed by the onslaught.

When it was over, when they lay tangled together in the aftermath, her body still trembling from the force of it all, Terry’s calm demeanour remained unshaken.

He leaned on one elbow, his gaze steady as he traced a finger along her collarbone. “You thought you were the one watching me, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a chilling edge. “Sweetheart, I’ve had my eyes on you from the very beginning.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time, she realised just how deeply she’d been outplayed.

And as he pressed one last lingering kiss to her lips, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, she couldn’t help but wonder—had she ever really been in control?

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#terry richmond #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge #rebel ridge fanfiction #aaron pierre #ruewrites #dark!terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond x dark!black!reader #dark!terry richmond

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guiltyandashamed · 23 days ago

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hi! can i req the brothers with a gift giver mc? like really thoughtful, crafty handmade gifts. love your writing btw ^_^

headcannons: hand-crafted gifts from MC

Lucifer

At first, Lucifer is mildly surprised when you hand him a sleek, hand-cut card with gold ink, congratulating him on another successful quarter at RAD. He accepts it with a raised brow but keeps it. Then comes a small box with individually labeled tea sachets, each one with a handwritten tag “For when the paperwork’s unbearable” or “Take a break, you deserve it.”

It starts to accumulate. Quietly. In his desk drawer is a little section now, a handful of thoughtful things from you. One day, he finds a ceramic paperweight shaped like a wing with a note: “So you don’t have to carry everything at once.” He doesn’t show much emotion, but that stays right on his desk. Every time he sees it, he sighs a little less.

Mammon

You made Mammon a little keychain, a chibi version of him, colored and sealed in a handmade resin charm. You give it to him with a little note “To protect your keys like you protect me.” He turns red, says you didn't have to, but he keeps it attached to his D.D.D. at all times.

Thing is, you do this often. A tiny scratch-off card with “Best Demon Ever” under the heart. A little origami crow taped to his mirror. A duct tape coin pouch you stitched on a whim. Mammon doesn’t just keep them, he brags about them. He’s made a box for your stuff and adds to it religiously, even if he pretends he’s “just organizing.” When he’s alone, he takes it out and goes through each piece like it’s treasure.

Leviathan

You drew him a birthday card styled like the cover of his favorite anime, logo mimicked, your characters stylized like the cast. Inside was a friendship meter like a dating sim, maxed out with his name. Levi short-circuits. You handed it to him shyly, and now he’s pink to his ears, holding it like it’s a sacred collector’s item.

He tries to play it cool, but your habit of crafting him things,bookmarks with tiny tentacle tassels, quote cards from anime you watch together, stickers of you as an in-game character, completely ruins him. He has an entire display shelf just for your creations, right next to his rarest figures. He calls it his MC Loot.

Satan

Satan is given a recycled book spine bookmark with etched cat ears at the top and your initials burned into the back. “So you don’t lose your place,” you wrote. Satan accepts it like someone receiving a priceless relic. His fingers trace every imperfection like it’s proof of sincerity.

He keeps every card you make: a thank-you card with tiny paw prints, a birthday note referencing his favorite literary quotes, a hand-bound pocket notebook. One day, you hand him a small canvas with a painted library cat in Devildom green, and he actually stops mid-sentence. “You remembered I mentioned that… months ago.” He’s not just collecting them, he’s preserving them, cataloging them in a little drawer beside his best books.

Asmodeus

You made Asmo a hand mirror, glittering frame, embedded with tiny stones, and a message in your scrawl on the handle: “You're already perfect.” He gasps like you handed him a crown. “This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever been given!”

It’s not a one-time thing. You gift him bath salts you mixed yourself, sachets with stitched heart tags, little “confidence cards” with compliments for him to pull on bad days. He lines them up along his vanity, perfectly arranged, and even rotates them by mood. “I don’t care what anyone says, darling,” he hums, “nothing looks better on me than something you made.”

Beelzebub

You hand Beel a stitched snack pouch made from durable RAD uniform scraps, reinforced with little patches that resemble food logos. “To keep your snacks safe,” you say. He beams and hugs you carefully, because he doesn’t want to crush you or the pouch.

You’re always slipping him handmade granola bars with heart-shaped notes, or tiny hand-painted boxes filled with his favorite flavors. He keeps every wrapper that has your handwriting on it. One time, you gave him a crude crocheted plush of a hamburger. Surprisingly, he's never tried to eat it because the idea of losing something you made frightens him. It never fails to make him smile to be reminded that you make things for him.

Belphegor

You make Belphie a handmade constellation map, sewn with gold thread, into a soft pillow cover. “I charted stars of the night you first took me to the planetarium” you say. He tucks it under his arm immediately. “This is… seriously amazing.”

He acts nonchalant, but his room is full of your things. A dream journal you hand-bound and scrawled sleepy messages in. A cloud-shaped stress ball he squeezes when he can’t drift off. You keep making things for him, and without ever asking, he starts making space on his bed just for your gifts.

#obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me requests #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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n1ght0f-nyx · 10 months ago

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MHA BOYS- you're pregnant

how the mha boys react when you tell them your pregnant. tags/warnings- pregnancy (obvi) aged up (post-canon) no negative reactions, this is so corny i hate it characters- izuku midoryria, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, denki kamanari, ejirio Kirishima, fumikage tokoyami, koji koda, mezo shoji, tamaki amajiki, hanta sero, tenya iida

Izuku Midoriya

When you told Izuku the news, he froze mid-step, his eyes widening as your words sank in. “Really?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. You nodded, watching as his mind raced, almost seeing the gears turning behind his green eyes.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then, without warning, he pulled out his notebook, scribbling down notes and making lists at lightning speed. Baby-proofing the apartment, researching the best cribs, figuring out how to balance work and fatherhood—his brain was in overdrive.

But amid the frantic planning, you caught him stealing glances at your stomach, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles. He wasn’t saying much, but his actions spoke louder than words. When he finally put down the notebook, he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently.

“We’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo didn’t say anything at first when you broke the news. His usual fiery demeanor was replaced by a heavy silence as he processed your words. His red eyes were locked on you, intense and unreadable, as if trying to figure out what to do next.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice gruff but steady. “You serious?”

When you nodded, he didn’t explode or rant like you might have expected. Instead, he reached out and pulled you into a rough, but secure embrace. His arms tightened around you protectively, and you felt the shift in him. His protective instincts, already strong, seemed to go into overdrive. He wasn’t one for soft words, but his actions said it all.

Over the next few days, you noticed him being extra cautious—keeping a close eye on what you were eating, making sure you were comfortable, and even being more mindful of his temper around you. He wasn’t suddenly soft, but there was a newfound depth to his care.

One evening, you caught him looking at baby clothes online. “Just making sure the kid isn’t weak,” he grumbled when you asked. But there was a glint of something in his eyes—an excitement he’d never admit out loud.

Shoto Todoroki

When you told Shoto the news, he took it with his usual calm, his expression barely changing. But there was a brief flicker in his mismatched eyes—something deep, something reflective. He took your hand, holding it gently as he nodded.

“We’ll figure this out together,” he said simply, his voice steady.

You could see the wheels turning in his mind, though he didn’t voice all his thoughts. Instead, he became even more attentive than usual. He took on more around the house without a word, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible. It wasn’t overt, but you could feel the shift in him—a quiet resolve to be better than the father he’d had.

Sometimes, you’d catch him lost in thought, his gaze distant as he seemed to contemplate the future. But there was also a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a subtle happiness that radiated from him whenever he was with you.

Denki Kaminari

Denki’s reaction was instant—a wide grin splitting his face as he practically bounced in place. "No way! We’re gonna be parents?!" His excitement was infectious, and I couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled me into a playful hug, his energy buzzing. "This is gonna be so awesome! I’m gonna teach them all about music, and video games, and... oh man, this is so cool!" But then, his expression softened, and he looked at me with surprising seriousness. "I’ll be here for you, babe. Every step of the way."

Eijiro Kirishima

Kirishima’s reaction was nothing short of pure joy. "We’re gonna be a family? That’s so manly!" he exclaimed, pulling me into the biggest hug. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself smiling as he rambled on about all the things he wanted to do for our baby. "I’m gonna be the best dad ever, I swear!" he declared, his eyes shining with determination. Then, more quietly, he added, "And I’ll be here for you, no matter what. We’ve got this."

Fumikage Tokoyami

Tokoyami’s reaction was more subdued, but the depth of his emotions was clear in his eyes. "A child," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. He took my hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is a profound responsibility, one I’ll carry with pride." His gaze met mine, filled with a determination that was uniquely his. "I’ll protect you both from any darkness that comes our way," he promised, his tone resolute. "You have my word."

Koji Koda

Koji’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed almost overwhelmed by the news. But then, a warm, gentle smile spread across his face. "We’re... we’re going to have a baby," he murmured, as if trying to wrap his mind around the idea. He reached out, his large hands enveloping mine in a comforting hold. "I’ll take care of you both," he promised softly. And then, almost as an afterthought, he added with a shy smile, "The animals will be so excited to meet the baby."

Mezo Shoji

Shoji’s reaction was calm, his many arms moving to gently envelop me in a protective embrace. "This is big news," he said quietly, his voice filled with a steady resolve. "But we’ll handle it together." He looked down at me, his expression softening. "I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you have everything you need." His touch was reassuring, a reminder of the quiet strength he always carried. "You and our child are my top priority now."

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki’s reaction was a mix of emotions, his face shifting from surprise to anxiety, and finally to a tentative smile. "Y-You’re... pregnant?" he stammered, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. I nodded, and he reached out hesitantly, his hand trembling as it rested on my stomach. "I’ll... I’ll do my best," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Then, more firmly, he added, "I’ll protect you both. I promise."

Hanta Sero

Sero’s reaction was instant and full of excitement. "No way! We’re gonna have a baby?!" he exclaimed, scooping me up in a playful hug. His smile was infectious, and I found myself laughing along with him. But then, he set me down gently, his expression turning serious. "I’m gonna be here for you, okay? Whatever you need, I’ve got your back." He squeezed my hand, his usual carefree demeanor giving way to a deeper sense of responsibility. "We’re in this together."

Tenya Iida

Iida’s reaction was immediate and methodical, his mind already racing with plans and preparations. "We need to start organizing everything," he said, his tone serious but filled with a quiet excitement. "Doctor’s appointments, a nursery... we’ll need to make sure everything is ready." But then, he paused, his expression softening as he took my hand. "But most importantly, I want to make sure you’re okay," he added gently. "I’m here for you, every step of the way."

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