Biological Response - Professor Wiroj x Fem!Reader
A/N: Disappeared for half a year, but have come back with a new love for Thai dramas! 2025 has NOT been the year for mental health, but at least I've found my passion for writing again!
Synopsis: Wiroj is a man of science who refuses to look up from his lab notes. You're the profeesor with a love for classic literature. Is it a match made in heaven, or an experiement waiting to go wrong?
Wiroj lived his life by data. His world revolved around numbers, facts and indisputable scientific data. In his head, data didn’t lie; but people did. His forty years on this earth had taught him that people often did the opposite of what he expected. But science had never let him down. And, if at any point the facts didn’t add up, he could easily find out why. But people remained a mystery to him, and it was a mystery that Wiroj was happy to leave unsolved.
He would never understand why he constantly failed to live up to his parent’s expectations, or why every relationship he’d ever had had crashed and burned before it had even started. Wiroj was content to spend his days in his lab, surrounded by petri dishes and textbooks, every waking moment spent trying to figure out biological anomalies. Some people would say Wiroj was simply burying his head in the sand and avoiding confronting uncomfortable emotions, but he was simply protecting his heart.
He was happy, he’d tell himself. Happy to devote his life to research and teaching his students to become the best versions of themselves. Of course, there were times when the nights felt too long, or his bed felt too cold and empty, but if that were ever the case, Wiroj would simply head to the safety of his lab. It was easier this way, and he never wanted anything more than what he already had. At least, that was until he met you.
You came into Wiroj’s life in a shockwave of soft laughter, amber scented perfume and classic literature. Your course on English Language and Classic Literature was new to the university but was proving to be incredibly popular. Wiroj had heard nothing but near constant chatter among staff and students alike since you started, and despite himself, his interest was piqued.
He'd been content to observe you from afar, catching a glimpse of the new professor without straying to far from the comfort of his lab. But your worlds collided far quicker than Wiroj had ever anticipated. He’d been so engrossed in an article on Predictive Processing in Human Behaviour that he hadn’t seen you coming towards him, your nose buried in a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights. The two of you collided, a flurry of pages and lukewarm coffee.
“I’m so sorry,” you gasped, picking up his magazine and flicking drops of coffee into the air, desperately trying to limit the damage. “It’s alright,” he said, using his sleeve to wipe a dribble of his cappuccino from the front cover of your book. He’d never been one for romance or the classics, but he could tell this book was well loved.
You looked up at him, an embarrassed smile playing across your beautiful face. Wiroj was taken aback at the woman crouched before him, your white shirt speckled with coffee and your eyes the most beautiful shade he had ever seen.
“I should really look where I’m going,” you laughed, “I hope your magazine isn’t too badly damaged.” “It’s…” Wiroj looked down at his sodden reading material. The article was still legible, but the pages were already sticky and smelt strongly of vanilla syrup. “It’s fine,” he said, not daring to look you in the eye. It had been years since he’d felt like this, like a giddy teenager. His palms felt sweaty, his heart raced and his cheeks reddened as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.
It's nothing more than a biological response, he assured himself. The body’s normal response to an attractive member of the opposite sex. It meant nothing, and Wiroj refused to linger on the way you made him feel. You introduced yourself and your name was forever engrained in his brain. Your voice was like the sweetest song, your features more beautiful than any painting. he hurriedly made his excuses, not bothering to give you his name in return as he scurried off down the corridor without a backwards glance.
It wasn’t until he was back in the safety of his lab, his heart still pounding in his chest, that he realised he still held your copy of Wuthering Heights. The book still smelled of coffee, but the scent of your perfume faintly lingered as well. Wiroj knew he couldn’t keep it, he’d have to return it to you sooner rather than later. But the thought of seeing you again made stomach flip. “A simple biological reaction,” he muttered to himself, sitting back down at his desk. He was a man of science, of reason. Attraction was nothing more than a natural, primitive response, a series of neurochemical processes. But as he sat in front of his class that afternoon, listening to their incessant chatter about their love for the new English Literature professor, Wiroj wondered how long it would take for the chemicals in his brain to stop seeing you as the most beautiful woman in the world. How long would it be until you became nothing more than another professor in the lounge, another colleague that he passed by in the hallways?
Wiroj didn’t have room in his life for complications. Everything was simple, logical, and easy. He’d spent his whole adult life avoiding difficult emotions, and it was going to take more than a pretty English professor to reduce him to a bundle of hormones. But as he stared at your coffee-stained book, Wiroj wondered if for once, science maybe didn’t hold all the answers.