Ιͺ Κα΄α΄α΄ α΄α΄ α΄ΚΚα΄ΚΙͺΙ΄Ι’ α΄Κα΄α΄α΄ Κα΄α΄ (Gareth x Reader)
Ι’α΄Κα΄α΄Κ κ±α΄ | α΄Ι΄α΄α΄Ιͺα΄κ± α΄α΄ Κα΄α΄ α΄Κκ± | κ±Κα΄α΄‘ Κα΄ΚΙ΄
ΛΛΒ°β’*ββ·
"Mr. Emerson," Mr. Widgers started, playing with the chalk in his hands, "I think you have a perfectly fine seat right there," he pointed next to you, "wouldn't you agree?"
Gareth glared at him exasperatingly for a brief moment, before shrugging and mumbling a quick, "fine." He picked up his things, sauntering begrudgingly over to you, and tossing the things atop the desk so they'd slam. It earned a fair couple of snickers, and you just caved in on yourself as he threw himself down, spreading his legs and laying his right arm across the back of the chair. More giggled, and Mr. Widgers just let out a deep sigh, choosing to not comment and continue on.
After a moment, Gareth turned towards you, a bit of both annoyance and hatred in his eyes. He scanned up and down you, before looking you right in the eyes and having the audacity to whisper, "since it seems as though we're gonna have to spend a lot of time together, I just thought you should know that I really, really hate cheerleaders."
You blinked, taken aback, "excuse me?"
"You heard me," he spat, smirking. He leaned in, fire and pride in his eyes, echoing, "you heard me." He then turned away from you, slumping back in his chair and pretending to focus back on Mr. Widgers. You did the same, now an awkward feeling in you. He pretended like you weren't there for the rest of the class.
ΛΛΒ°β’*ββ·
ΙͺΙ΄κ±α΄ΙͺΚα΄α΄
ΚΚ α΄ α΄. α΄Ιͺ α΄Κα΄α΄α΄α΄ α΄‘ΚΙͺα΄α΄α΄Ι΄ ΚΚ ΚΙͺα΄
α΄
Κα΄Κκ°α΄Ι΄69
Κα΄α΄α΄
α΄Κ Κα΄α΄α΄ΙͺΙ΄κ± α΄α΄
Κα΄Ι’ΚΙ΄α΄α΄κ± Κα΄α΄ Ιͺκ± α΄Κα΄Κα΄α΄α΄α΄ΚΙͺα΄’α΄α΄
α΄‘Ιͺα΄Κ α΄α΄Κα΄ κ°α΄α΄ α΄Κα΄Ιͺα΄κ± ΙͺΙ΄ α΄ΙͺΙ΄α΄
