#on every notebook and water bottle I own.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaiyunsim · 4 months ago

Text

serendipity —

pairing : spider-man!jake x gn!reader

summary : a late night studying session with shinyu results in a weird stalker following you home… but wait, he’s webbed to the wall..? by… SPIDER-MAN? what’s even weirder is that you find yourself running yourself running into the hero more often and begin to see some similarities with… jake sim?

warnings : FLUFF, very very oblivious reader, jake is SUCH a loser here (i crave a loser bf guys… he’s just a nerd), jake is popular, shinyu as a friend of the reader

a/n : omg everyone thank @writhyv for getting me back to writing for jake ! ALSO for getting me to write a hot loser jake (i love it very much) GIFT FOR HIM !! thank u pook ilysm.

queueing… : serendipity - laufey, sweet - cigarettes after sex, safety zone - leehi, blue - kai (not yung kai)

— wc : 7.5k — not proof read —

jake sim is the kind of guy who could ruin your entire life without even trying.

he’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen in real life. like, actually hot. perfect hair, perfect smile, broad shoulders under whatever hoodie he always throws on like he didn't just accidentally win the genetic lottery. he’s popular in the way that feels effortless, always surrounded by people who seem to orbit around him like he’s some kind of sun.

the whole school loves him. teachers, athletes, the kids who sit in the back of class and never talk. jake sim could probably trip and faceplant in the middle of the hallway and people would still clap for him.

the only weird part is that he’s also… kind of a loser.

you don’t really know him, just know of him. he’s in a few of your classes, close enough to be a familiar face but not close enough for either of you to actually talk. if anything, he’s just background noise in your life, one of those people who exists on the edge of your universe without ever really crossing into it.

except sometimes, every now and then, you feel like he’s acting a little… strange around you.

not that you think too hard about it. probably nothing.

the first time it happens, you don’t even clock it as anything weird.

it’s in english class, some group discussion where nobody’s actually talking, just pretending to think really hard about the book none of you actually read. you’re flipping through the pages when you feel someone staring.

you glance up, and there he is. jake sim.

he’s sitting diagonally across from you, elbow propped on the desk, eyes locked on you like he’s trying to figure out the meaning of life or something.

you blink at him.

he blinks back.

and then, like he just got caught committing a crime, he whips his head down, pretending to scribble something in his notebook with the intensity of someone writing their final will and testament.

...okay. weird, but whatever.

the second time, it’s in the hallway between classes.

you're digging through your locker, minding your own business, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“uh—hi.”

you turn around.

jake sim is standing there, clutching his textbook like it's a lifeline. up close, he's even hotter, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair falling into his eyes.

he's also… kind of red in the face?

“hey?” you offer, confused.

he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then immediately shuts it again.

“never mind,” he mutters, spinning on his heel and walking away so fast you'd think the hallway was on fire.

...what the hell was that?

it keeps happening.

little moments that should probably add up to something if you actually paid attention, but you don’t, because jake sim is jake sim, and you’re just you.

he stumbles over his words when you ask to borrow a pencil. drops his entire water bottle when you accidentally brush past him in class. one time, you catch him fully tripping over absolutely nothing when you make eye contact with him across the cafeteria.

but for some reason, your brain just files it all away under wow, popular guys are weird sometimes and moves on.

if anyone ever asked you what you think of jake sim, you’d probably just shrug and say he’s nice.

you don't know that he’s been in love with you since sophomore year.

you don't know that every time he tries to talk to you, his brain completely shuts down.

and you definitely don’t know that the same guy who turns into a stammering mess around you spends his nights swinging across the city, cracking jokes and saving people as if confidence is something that comes built into the suit.

the third time you actually talk to him is in chemistry class.

the teacher pairs you up for some experiment, something involving measurements and burning stuff, and jake ends up at your table, tapping his pen against the notebook like he’s trying to act casual.

"can you pass me the beaker?" you ask.

he freezes.

his eyes flick to the beaker, then to you, then back to the beaker like it's a bomb he’s been assigned to defuse.

"...yeah," he says, voice cracking on the single syllable.

you don’t think anything of it, just reach for the beaker when he hands it over. your fingers brush against his, and he drops it.

it clatters against the table, rolling onto the floor with a loud clink.

"oh."

jake looks like he wants to melt through the floor.

"it's fine," you say, bending down to grab it. “at least it didn’t break” you joke to lighten to mood.

he doesn't move, just sits there gripping the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

you offer him a small smile when you straighten up, placing the beaker back on the table.

"chill," you joke. "it's not that serious."

jake visibly short-circuits.

"chill," he echoes, like it's the first time he's ever heard the word in his life.

if someone told you jake sim had a crush on you, you’d probably laugh.

guys like him don’t go for people like you.

guys like him date cheerleaders or instagram models or the kind of girls who know exactly how to flip their hair and laugh in that effortless, pretty way.

not people who half-ass their homework and accidentally fall asleep during history lectures.

definitely not people who would rather have deep conversations on rooftops than go to parties.

but what you don’t know is that those are all the exact reasons jake likes you.

he likes the way you always stick your tongue out a little when you’re concentrating. he likes how you always hum to yourself when you think nobody’s listening. he likes how you talk to everyone the same, never acting like anybody’s above or below you.

he likes you.

and it’s ruining his life.

—

"do you think jake sim is... weird?"

shinyu raises an eyebrow. "weird how?"

you frown, trying to find the right words.

"i don’t know. like... awkward? around me?"

he snorts. "he's awkward around everyone."

"not really."

shinyu pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s finally catching onto something you've been missing this whole time.

"...wait." he leans in. "do you seriously not realize he's into you?"

you blink.

"what?"

"oh my god." he gape at you like you're the dumbest person alive. "he's had a crush on you since, like, forever."

you genuinely laugh at that, because there's no way.

right?

meanwhile, across the cafeteria, jake sim is currently choking on his water because he saw you glance in his direction for half a second.

sunghoon pats his back, looking vaguely concerned.

"bro, you have superpowers, but you can't even talk to your crush?"

jake coughs harder. he’s so, so doomed.

—

you don’t try to stay out late. it just happens.

sometimes it’s because you lose track of time, caught up in the city’s glow. sometimes it’s because you’re walking home after a long study session, brain fried from trying to shove too much information into it at once.

tonight, it’s the latter.

shinyu yawns next to you, stretching his arms over his head as you both step out of the library. “i swear, if i have to look at one more page of notes, i’m throwing my entire textbook into the river.”

“you say that every time,” you point out.

“and one of these days, i’ll actually do it.”

you snort, tugging your hoodie closer around you. it’s late enough that the streets are quieter than usual, the hum of distant traffic the only real sound. most of the shops have already shut down, save for the 24-hour convenience store at the corner.

shinyu pulls out his phone. “should i call a cab?”

“nah,” you shake your head. “i’ll just walk.”

he frowns. “are you sure? it’s kinda late.”

“i always do this. i’ll be fine.”

he hesitates, clearly debating whether or not to argue, but eventually sighs. “alright. text me when you get home, though.”

“yes, mom.”

he rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead before heading off in the opposite direction.

you stuff your hands into your pockets and start walking.

your route home is familiar, same streets, same flickering streetlights, same little shop windows reflecting the glow of the city back at you. you don’t feel unsafe. if anything, you like walking at night. there’s something peaceful about it, something that makes the world feel a little softer around the edges.

but then—

you hear footsteps behind you.

at first, you don’t think much of it. there are always other people out and about. but as you keep walking, the sound stays steady, just far enough behind that you can’t tell if it’s a coincidence or something else.

your stomach twists. ‘who the fuck is walking around the same route as you at 2am..?’ you think to yourself.

you glance over your shoulder.

a man. mid-thirties, maybe. hood pulled up over his head.

the moment your eyes meet, he quickly looks away, pretending to check his phone.

your heart beats a little faster. you’re probably overreacting.

but then you turn the corner, and the footsteps turn with you.

you pick up your pace.

so do they.

your chest tightens. okay. okay. you’re not imagining it.

you scan the street for other people, but it’s mostly empty. the nearest open shop is too far ahead, and the alley you just passed is—

wait.

your stomach drops.

you didn’t even hear him move, but suddenly, he’s not behind you anymore.

he’s right there.

you barely have time to react before he grabs your wrist, grip too tight, breath too close. “hey—”

before you can even think to scream, something flies past you—fast, sharp.

and suddenly, the man is yanked backwards.

one second he’s gripping you, the next he’s pinned to the alley wall, struggling against thick strands of white webbing wrapped tight around his torso.

your breath catches in your throat.

what.

your brain barely has time to process it before—

“hey,” a voice calls.

you turn, heart still pounding.

and standing there, perched casually on the edge of a lamppost, is spider-man.

your mouth goes dry.

he hops down, landing lightly on the pavement, head tilting slightly as he glances at the guy still stuck to the wall. “yeah, i don’t think so,” he says.

the guy grunts, struggling uselessly against the webbing.

spider-man sighs. “not your best move.”

you just stare.

you know who he is, obviously. everyone does. but knowing about spider-man and actually seeing him in front of you are two entirely different things.

he turns to you. “you alright?”

you blink at him, mind still catching up. “uh.”

he tilts his head. “i’ll take that as a yes?”

“y-yeah,” you stammer, clearing your throat. “yeah. i’m fine.”

“good.” he gestures vaguely toward the guy. “i’ll leave him here for the cops. but, uh—maybe don’t walk alone this late?”

you exhale sharply. “yeah. got it. solid advice.”

spider-man lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

for some reason, that tiny, almost shy gesture is what actually makes your brain start working again.

because up until now, he seemed untouchable, fast, sharp, the kind of person who moves like he already knows the next ten steps ahead. but now, standing here, he’s shifting his weight slightly like he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

and for some reason, that makes him feel real.

“do you, uh,” he starts, then hesitates. “want me to walk you home?”

your stomach flips.

“oh,” you say. “you don’t have to—”

“i don’t mind,” he says quickly. “just to make sure you get there safe.”

you bite your lip. you really should say no. he’s probably busy, and you don’t want to take up more of his time.

but also.

spider-man just offered to walk you home.

what kind of idiot would turn that down?

“…okay,” you say finally.

you can hear the smile in his voice. “okay.”

—

when you finally get home, he hangs back by the streetlight, watching as you unlock the door.

“thanks again,” you say, turning back to him.

he nods. “anytime.”

you hesitate.

“…do you do handshakes?”

he lets out a soft laugh. “not usually.”

“oh.” you lower your hand, a little embarrassed.

but before you can pull it back completely, he reaches out and bumps his knuckles against yours.

it’s such a small thing. so stupidly small.

but for some reason, it makes your heart stutter.

you glance up at him, but he’s already moving, gripping the edge of the nearest rooftop, hoisting himself up with an easy strength that makes your stomach flip.

and then, just before he disappears—

“goodnight,” he says.

your breath catches.

and then he’s gone.

you collapse onto your bed the second you get inside, phone buzzing with a text from shinyu.

shinyu: you home yet? you: yeah shinyu: good

you hover over the keyboard for a second, debating.

and then—

you: hey. what do you think of spider-man?

his reply is instant.

shinyu: idk. kinda cool? you: ...yeah.

you stare at the screen. your heart is still racing.

and for some reason, all you can hear is his voice.

stupid voice with that stupid accent you recognize but look over.

—

it’s become a thing now.

you didn’t plan for it, but somehow it has.

spider-man keeps showing up.

at first, it’s just the occasional late-night save, that charming but awkward conversation at the end where you thank him profusely and he gives you a weird little knuckle bump before disappearing into the night.

but then...

you start seeing him more.

you start to notice that he seems to be where you are, just when you need him.

it happens AGAIN one night when you’re walking home after another late study session with shinyu.

you’re tired. drained. your brain feels like mush, and shinyu, though he’s usually the one full of energy, seems to be on the same wavelength.

"i swear," he mutters, "if i see one more page of equations, i’m going to just… yeet this textbook into the nearest river."

you snort, nudging him. "don’t tempt me. i’m kind of considering it myself."

you both chuckle, but it's tired. the kind of tired where you can’t even muster the energy to fake your usual enthusiasm.

the streets are quiet again, just the sound of your footsteps echoing in the night.

and, as usual, that familiar feeling creeps in, like you’re being watched.

you brush it off. it’s probably just a shadow, the way the streetlights flicker and make things seem closer than they are.

but then, in the distance, a small rustle.

you freeze for a second, but quickly continue walking, convincing yourself it’s nothing.

you turn another corner, and then, there he is.

spider-man.

you blink, more than a little surprised.

“oh, hey,” you say, trying to act casual. "what's up?"

he’s leaning against the side of a building, arms crossed, but when you notice the way he’s watching you, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s been here for a while.

he straightens, suddenly looking a bit... embarrassed? "uh, nothing much. just making sure you're alright."

you blink, a little confused. "i’m fine? why wouldn’t i be?"

he gives a small shrug, like it’s no big deal. "you know, just being careful. you’re walking kinda late, and i’m... well, i’m always around."

you raise an eyebrow. "you just 'happen' to be around whenever i'm out late?"

he looks sheepish. "yep."

you stare at him for a second.

“are you stalking me?” you joke, but it comes out a little too serious.

his eyes widen, and he starts shaking his head quickly, scratching at the back of his neck. "no! no, of course not. just... making sure you're safe, y’know?"

you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes. "right. sure."

he seems to relax when you don’t push it further. “anyway, i could walk you home if you want. just in case, you know?”

you shrug. it’s not like you mind. "okay, but only because you’re weirdly persistent."

he grins, clearly relieved. "wouldn’t dream of letting you walk alone."

it’s an awkward, quiet walk. mostly because spider-man doesn’t seem to know how to start a normal conversation. his silence is comfortable, though, like there’s no need to fill the space. just walking with him feels nice.

by the time you’re at your front door, you’re laughing over something dumb that shinyu had said earlier. you feel strangely at ease.

"thanks for walking me home," you say.

he shrugs. “it’s nothing. just doing my part.”

you smile, heart skipping a beat. "goodnight, spider-man."

"goodnight," he replies, his voice soft. then, as usual, he’s gone before you can say anything else.

—

the routine builds quickly after that.

it becomes normal to see him around whenever you’re out at night.

he always seems to be around, sometimes just dropping in for a casual chat, other times swooping in to rescue you from the occasional shady character or two.

but it’s the quiet moments you start to cherish.

there’s one night where you and shinyu are hanging out on the rooftop of your building, talking about life as you always do. the sky is clear, the stars twinkling, and it feels like a moment frozen in time.

shinyu is sprawled across the floor, pretending to sleep, while you’re sitting with your legs dangling over the edge, arms resting on your knees.

“so,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “what’s the deal with spider-man, anyway? you two talk a lot now.”

you freeze for a second, eyes narrowing. “what do you mean ‘talk a lot?’”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m just saying. you two have some weird dynamic. are you, like, dating or something?”

you laugh it off. “what? no! it’s just... he’s, uh, nice. i don’t know, he’s just been around when i’ve needed him, that’s all.”

shinyu sits up, raising an eyebrow. “oh, really? just ‘happens’ to be there. that’s cute.”

you roll your eyes. “he’s cool, okay?”

he gives you a knowing look. “if you say so.”

before you can respond, you hear the familiar sound of whoosh above you.

spider-man drops down onto the roof, landing lightly beside you with an easy smile.

“hey, guys,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just flown in to join the conversation.

you smile at him, your heart fluttering a little. “hey, spider-man.”

shinyu squints at him, grinning. “so, we’re just hanging out, huh? that’s cool. do you want anything to drink?”

spider-man looks at him in confusion. “huh?”

“i mean, you’re here now. should we get drinks?” shinyu gestures to the corner store below. “i’ll go down and grab something. you want anything?”

spider-man glances at you first, and then back at shinyu, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“uh, sure,” he says, his voice a little uncertain. “i’ll just have whatever you’re getting.”

shinyu gives a little nod before standing up and heading down the stairs to the convenience store.

you and spider-man are left alone again.

the air feels different this time, like the space between you has changed. you both sit there in silence for a moment.

he clears his throat. “so, uh... how’s the studying going?”

you laugh softly. “honestly? i want to burn my textbooks.”

he chuckles. “yeah, i get that. same.”

you glance at him, curious. “you study too?”

he shrugs, looking awkward. “well... when i’m not being, you know, spider-man. i try to keep up.”

you nod, smiling. “cool. you seem smart.”

he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, well, it’s all kind of a... blur, y’know?”

you laugh again. "yeah, i know exactly what you mean."

and suddenly, you realize something.

you’re actually... comfortable with him.

not just the whole superhero thing, not just the awkwardness, but the person behind it. you don’t need to be on edge around him.

and somehow, that makes you feel both lighter and a little strange.

later, shinyu returns with drinks, and the conversation picks up again. spider-man relaxes a little more, though he still seems a bit fidgety.

you can’t help but notice how, even now, when he’s around shinyu, he still doesn’t seem to know how to act. there’s an ease to his awkwardness that’s almost endearing.

shinyu teases him a little, asking if he’s ever had to take his suit off after a long night of “saving people” and spider-man just shrugs awkwardly, mumbling something about the suit being “perfectly breathable” as if that’s the most casual thing in the world.

it’s a weird dynamic, but it works.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel quite so... lonely.

—

when it’s time to leave, spider-man walks you home again, which is literally downstairs.

you’re still laughing from something shinyu said, but when you glance over at spider-man, you notice him looking at you more seriously than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, surprised by the shift in his mood.

“yeah,” he replies, his voice quiet. “just... it’s nothing. just wanted to check on you.”

you smile softly. “you do that a lot.”

he shrugs. “it’s my job, right?”

and even though he says that, you can see the hint of something more. something deeper.

you’re not sure what it is, but you feel it.

you smile to yourself, wondering if maybe you’re starting to understand him a little better.

when you get to your front door, you wave goodbye, but this time, he doesn’t leave immediately.

he lingers.

“goodnight, spider-man,” you say quietly.

“goodnight.”

he’s gone before you can blink.

and you can’t help but feel like there’s something he’s not saying. something important.

—

you’re at school, sitting with shinyu during lunch, lazily picking at your food as the two of you chat about the usual, homework, annoying teachers, and how much you’d rather be anywhere else.

and then, somehow, the conversation lands on him.

"so, spider-man," shinyu says, taking a sip of his drink. "you never really told me. what’s the deal with that?"

you blink, caught off guard. "what do you mean?"

shinyu shrugs. "i mean, you guys talk a lot. what’s he like?"

you pause, considering it. "well... he’s nice. kind of awkward, but in a cute way. and, i don’t know, i feel like i can actually talk to him, you know?"

shinyu raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "so you like talking to him."

"obviously," you say, rolling your eyes. "he’s funny, easy to be around, and—"

you pause for half a second.

shinyu waits.

"... and?"

you shrug, acting like what you’re about to say is no big deal. "and he’s kinda hot."

it happens instantly.

a loud choking sound from the table next to you.

you both turn your heads.

jake sim, golden boy of the school, is currently dying.

he’s hunched over, violently coughing, his drink abandoned as he tries to catch his breath. his friends, some of the other popular kids, are just watching him, either concerned or mildly entertained.

"bro, what is wrong with you?" one of them asks, patting jake on the back.

jake wheezes.

you stare at him, blinking. "... you good?"

he looks up at you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like he just realized he made a scene.

"uh—yeah! yes! i’m fine!" he blurts out, too loudly.

you and shinyu exchange a look.

"uh-huh," you say, unconvinced.

jake quickly grabs his drink again, pretending like nothing happened, but you can see it, how his ears are red, how he’s suddenly so focused on stirring his drink with his straw like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

weird.

shinyu, being shinyu, decides to push it.

"wait, you were listening to us?" he says, grinning.

"no!" jake says, way too fast. "i wasn’t listening! i just— i mean— i heard something, but it wasn’t on purpose—"

he stops himself, as if realizing he’s making it worse.

you stare at him, trying to figure out what his deal is.

jake sim is, objectively, very attractive. everyone at school knows it. he’s the kind of guy who could probably get away with murder just by looking at someone the right way.

but right now?

right now, he looks like a glitching NPC.

shinyu smirks. "so, which part made you choke? the part where spider-man is easy to talk to, or the part where he’s hot?"

jake makes a strangled sound, like he just swallowed his soul.

"i—" he starts, then stops, looking deeply uncomfortable.

you narrow your eyes at him.

"wait," you say suddenly, realization hitting. "do you know spider-man?"

jake freezes.

his eyes dart around the table, as if searching for an escape route.

"i—uh—no?" he tries, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.

"that was very convincing," you deadpan.

"thank you," he says automatically. then, realizing what he just did, he groans and drags a hand down his face.

you just stare at him.

what is up with this guy?

shinyu snickers. "dude, you’re acting real suspicious right now."

"i am not," jake says, still looking very much suspicious.

you and shinyu both just keep staring at him.

jake, unable to handle the attention, suddenly stands up. "gotta go!" he announces, grabbing his tray and practically sprinting away from the table.

... what.

you blink. "okay, what was that?"

shinyu just laughs. "no clue, but that was hilarious."

you shake your head, still baffled.

jake sim is weird.

—

that night, like clockwork, spider-man appears.

you’re outside, walking back from the convenience store, a bag of snacks in your hand when you hear the familiar thwip of a web.

you don’t even flinch anymore.

“oh, hey,” you say as he lands beside you. "you’re early tonight."

spider-man, who seems slightly fidgety for some reason, clears his throat. "uh, yeah. just happened to be around."

you nod. "right. as always."

there’s a beat of silence as the two of you start walking.

then, spider-man casually goes, "sooo... you think i’m hot?"

you freeze mid-step.

"what—"

he panics immediately. "i mean—! not that i heard you say that or anything, but like— well, let’s say hypothetically you did say that, and hypothetically i overheard—"

you narrow your eyes. "did you overhear?"

he hesitates for a full second before blurting, "no!"

"uh-huh."

he coughs. "but if you did think that— i mean, just out of curiosity, uh... what part exactly were you talking about?"

you stare at him.

he shifts, looking way too eager but also like he might die on the spot.

you decide to mess with him.

"i dunno," you say, pretending to think. "maybe the mask? keeps things mysterious."

"mysterious," he echoes.

"or maybe the whole... ‘hero of the city’ thing," you continue. "kind of hard not to find that attractive."

"oh," he says weakly.

you glance at him.

his shoulders are tense. he’s definitely blushing. even through the mask, you can tell.

you bite back a grin. "why do you ask, spider-man? you interested in what i think?"

"wh—no! i mean— i guess? maybe? i just—" he stops mid-sentence, suddenly frustrated with himself.

you laugh. "wow. you get flustered really easily."

"i do not," he lies.

you grin.

he’s so bad at this.

but... it’s kind of cute.

he clears his throat, clearly desperate to change the subject. "so! um! anyway! totally unrelated question—"

"uh-huh?"

"—but, like... have you ever thought that maybe you already know me?"

you blink. "what?"

he shrugs, trying to sound casual. "i mean, like, what if i wasn’t just spider-man? what if i was, i dunno... someone you see every day?"

you frown, confused.

"... but you’re not," you say simply. "i’d recognize your voice."

spider-man pauses.

"oh," he says.

like he just remembered that’s a thing.

you keep walking, completely missing the way his entire body slumps.

"why?" you ask, glancing at him. "are you secretly my math teacher or something?"

he lets out a weird, awkward laugh. "pfft. no! definitely not. that’d be, um. weird."

you snort. "right... mr. lee..?"

spider-man sighs, clearly realizing this isn’t going anywhere. "never mind," he mutters.

you just shrug. "okay. anyway, are we getting snacks or what?"

he perks up instantly. "yes! let’s do that."

he’s back to normal.

but inside, jake sim is screaming.

when you get home, you fall onto your bed, thinking about the conversation you just had.

weird.

he was acting weird.

but it’s probably nothing.

meanwhile, somewhere across the city, jake is lying face down on his bed, aggressively kicking his feet like a teenage girl in a romcom, absolutely mortified.

his friends are still roasting him for what happened at lunch.

he’s never going to live this down.

—

rooftops are underrated.

shinyu agrees.

“this is the best place to complain about life,” he says, stretching out on the rooftop ledge. “no teachers, no school stress, just the city and the stars.”

“and potential death if you slip,” you point out.

“adds to the thrill.”

you laugh, taking a deep breath as the cool night air brushes against your skin. it’s peaceful up here, the hum of the city below feeling distant, almost like background noise.

this is your favorite part of the night, escaping the weight of the day, letting yourself exist without expectations.

shinyu, lounging beside you, throws a crumpled snack wrapper at you. “so. be honest. do you think mr. lee is actually grading our essays or just randomly handing out scores?”

“random,” you say immediately. “there’s no way he read mine. i wrote a whole paragraph about how pigeons should have jobs and still got an A.”

shinyu nearly chokes on his drink. “what?”

“i was sleep-deprived, okay?”

“bro.”

you grin, nudging his shoulder. shinyu’s dramatic laughter echoes in the open air, and for a second, it feels like nothing else matters.

but then—

thwip.

a familiar sound.

you don’t even flinch.

shinyu, however, does. “bro,” he says, staring at the figure that just landed on the rooftop. “your weird little superhero friend is here again.”

spider-man straightens up. “hey,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie over his suit.

“oh, great,” shinyu mutters. “now i have to third-wheel whatever this weird thing is.”

you roll your eyes. “it’s not weird.”

spider-man, beside you, shifts. “wait. what’s not weird?”

shinyu smirks. “you and them.”

spider-man nearly trips over his own feet. “what?”

you laugh. “ignore him, he’s just being annoying.”

“i’m just saying,” shinyu teases, standing up and stretching, “i feel like a chaperone. anyway, i’m heading home before mr. lee assigns another test. try not to die.”

you wave him off, watching as he climbs down the fire escape.

the second he’s gone, spider-man sighs dramatically. “your friend is kind of scary.”

“he’d love to hear that.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so. you just hang out on rooftops for fun?”

“why not?” you shrug. “it’s peaceful. no school, no responsibilities, no—”

you shift slightly on the ledge—

and your foot slips.

for a split second, your stomach drops.

but before you can even process it—

strong hands grab your waist, pulling you back to safety.

your breath catches.

you don’t even have time to think before you’re pressed against him, his hands still firmly holding you, your faces way too close.

your brain short-circuits.

spider-man tenses.

his mask hides his expression, but you can feel the shift, the sudden awareness of just how close you are.

your hands are gripping his arms, his hands are still on your waist, and for a moment, neither of you move.

the air is thick.

his breathing is a little uneven.

he’s calm on the outside, but inside?

jake sim is losing his mind.

because oh my god.

he is touching you.

holding you.

you’re close enough that he can see every little detail, the way your lips part slightly in surprise, the way your eyes flicker down for a second before meeting his again.

he’s panicking.

but he cannot show it.

so he clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “you, uh. good?”

you blink, snapping out of it.

“oh. yeah. thanks for—” you gesture vaguely, still hyper-aware of his hands.

spider-man nods, though his brain is still buffering.

he should move.

but his hands don’t move.

why aren’t they moving?

he’s gripping your waist like you’re going to fall again, like he has to keep holding on, and it takes everything in him to not scream.

you tilt your head.

“... you okay?”

"me? oh! yeah! totally fine! absolutely not freaking out or anything!”

you squint at him.

"... you sure?"

"yep! totally! one hundred percent normal behavior happening right now!"

he still hasn’t let go.

you raise an eyebrow.

he realizes he still hasn’t let go.

"oh! right! my bad!"

he snatches his hands away like he just touched fire, stumbling back a step.

you blink at him.

he looks like he just had an out-of-body experience.

"... you’re acting weird," you say.

"no, i’m not!" he says, voice cracking.

you stare at him for another second before shrugging. "okay."

you sit back down like nothing happened.

spider-man stands there, physically trying to reboot.

—

the next day at school, jake sim is a mess.

he is so weird about it.

you don’t even notice at first, too busy going about your day, but then, little things start adding up.

like how he keeps running into walls.

or how he drops his books every time you walk by.

or how, when you pass him in the hallway, he does a 180-degree spin and walks the other direction like he just forgot where he was going.

it’s like he has no motor skills around you.

and the worst part?

everyone notices.

"bro, what is your deal?" one of his friends asks after jake nearly trips over thin air.

jake just groans, aggressively rubbing his face. "i don’t wanna talk about it."

his friends exchange a look.

"you’ve been acting weird since yesterday," one of them says. "what happened?"

"nothing!"

"are you sure?"

"yes!" jake says, too fast. "i’m totally fine! absolutely normal! definitely not thinking about anything that happened on a rooftop last night!"

his friends blink.

"... what?"

jake.exe has stopped working.

"i gotta go," he says, shoving his books into his bag and sprinting away before they can ask any more questions.

meanwhile, you, completely oblivious to his entire breakdown, sit down with shinyu at lunch, happily eating your food.

"hey," shinyu says, nudging you. "you notice how jake’s been acting extra weird today?"

you pause mid-bite. "huh?"

"he keeps running into things. i think you broke him."

"... what did i do?"

shinyu shrugs. "no clue. but it’s hilarious."

you glance across the cafeteria.

jake is at his table, looking stressed.

you don’t think much of it.

meanwhile, jake is sitting there, gripping his drink, replaying last night’s moment in his head like a broken record, absolutely suffering.

there’s something weird about jake sim.

not in an obvious way, he’s still the school’s golden boy, still effortlessly good-looking, still surrounded by people who seem drawn to him like he has his own gravitational pull.

but ever since you started talking to spider-man, something feels... off.

and the more you think about it, the more you realize...

jake and spider-man are kind of similar.

not in every way, obviously.

spider-man is cool in a nerdy, awkward way. jake is just awkward.

spider-man is confident until he’s flustered. jake is flustered until he’s more flustered.

but there are little things. things that stick in your mind and refuse to leave.

the way they both stutter when they’re flustered.

the way they both react too strongly when you mention something embarrassing.

the way spider-man somehow always reacts to things you say about jake sim a little too specifically.

you wouldn’t normally care.

except now you do so you decide to test him.

the opportunity presents itself in the middle of lunch.

shinyu is ranting about his math teacher, and you’re half-listening, half-watching as jake sits at his usual table across the cafeteria.

he looks tired.

his friends are talking, but he’s zoned out, poking at his food with a fork like it personally offended him.

for once, no one is paying attention to him.

so you turn to shinyu and casually say,

"hey. you ever think jake sim is kinda... spider-man-y?"

shinyu blinks. "what."

you shrug. "just saying. they kinda act the same sometimes."

"what kind of reach—"

you don’t get to respond.

because across the cafeteria, jake, mid-bite into his sandwich, freezes.

like, completely.

his jaw locks, his eyes widen slightly, and for a second, he just sits there, bread still between his teeth, looking like he’s buffering.

it’s only when one of his friends elbows him that he starts moving again, slowly, mechanically, chewing like he suddenly forgot how food works.

you watch this unfold with mild amusement.

shinyu squints. "okay, that was weird."

"right?"

you decide to take it further.

"also, if you really think about it, their voices are kind of similar," you add, casually sipping your drink.

jake, still trying to recover from his sandwich malfunction, visibly flinches.

his friend frowns. "dude, are you good?"

"mhm!" jake squeaks, before quickly stuffing more food into his mouth to avoid talking.

his ears are so red.

shinyu glances between you and him. "...did you just break jake sim?"

"interesting," you say, watching as jake forces himself to act normal, failing spectacularly.

very suspicious.

—

that night, spider-man shows up like always.

you’re sitting on your usual rooftop spot, legs dangling over the edge.

he lands beside you, slightly out of breath.

you tilt your head. “you good?”

"yep!" he says. "totally! just... busy day."

you hum.

"...sooo," you start, watching him closely, "something really funny happened today."

spider-man tenses. "oh? uh. what?"

you grin. "i was talking to shinyu about how jake sim kinda reminds me of you."

he flinches.

"oh?"

"yeah," you say, leaning in slightly. "you both get flustered really easily."

"what? no, i don’t!"

you raise an eyebrow. "you’re literally flustered right now."

"no, i’m not!"

you squint.

he shifts uncomfortably.

"also," you continue, "you have the same little mannerisms sometimes. like how you rub the back of your neck when you’re nervous."

his hand immediately drops from the back of his neck.

you stare.

he stares back.

"...okay, that was suspicious."

"what was?"

"that!"

"what?"

"you just—" you gesture vaguely. "you’re acting weird."

"i’m always weird!"

"true," you admit.

he sighs in relief.

but you’re not done.

"also, your voice kinda sounds like his."

"what?!"

"just a little," you say, watching him panic. "not enough for most people to notice, but still."

"n-no it doesn’t!"

"you sure?"

"positive!"

you hum.

"you definitely don’t have anything you wanna tell me?"

"nope! nothing at all! absolutely nothing weird happening here!*"

you squint.

he is sweating.

interesting.

—

jake sim has fought criminals, dodged gunfire, and swung through the city at terrifying speeds—

but this is the most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever done.

because tonight, he’s going to tell you.

he’s going to take off the mask, look you in the eye, and say it, 'i’m spider-man. i’m also jake sim. and i like you. a lot.'

he’s been rehearsing it in his head for days.

except now that he’s actually standing on the rooftop where you usually meet, waiting for you, his brain is short-circuiting.

what if you get mad? what if you feel betrayed? what if you never want to talk to him again?

he groans into his hands. this was a terrible idea.

but he can’t back out now.

not when he hears footsteps coming up the fire escape.

his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

okay, okay. just act normal. wait, no—don't act normal, you’re always awkward. act... slightly less awkward. you can do this. you got this.

he takes a deep breath.

the door creaks open.

he turns around, already preparing himself—

and then immediately panics because—

oh god. that’s not you. that’s shinyu.

shinyu blinks. “oh.”

jake freezes.

shinyu squints. “what are you doing here?”

"nothing!" spider-man blurts out. "just—y’know. being spider-man. normal superhero things. ha ha."

shinyu looks so unimpressed. "right."

jake is internally screaming. where are you?? why is shinyu here instead?? he was so ready.

shinyu leans against the rooftop railing, arms crossed. "so. waiting for someone?"

spider-man stiffens. "uh—no! no, just... hanging out."

shinyu hums.

spider-man shifts uncomfortably.

there's a beat of silence before shinyu smirks. "you’re totally waiting for y/n, aren’t you?"

spider-man chokes on air.

"what?!"

shinyu laughs. "dude, relax. you guys seem close, that’s all."

spider-man doesn’t know what to say.

shinyu keeps going, teasing. "you like them or something?"

spider-man malfunctions.

because the answer is yes, so much yes, oh my god yes, but he cannot say that.

so he just stands there, absolutely flustered, failing to form a single coherent word.

shinyu raises an eyebrow. "wait. do you like them?"

"WHAT? NO. HAHAHA. HA." spider-man's voice cracks.

shinyu stares.

spider-man stares back.

the silence is deafening.

then shinyu grins.

"oh my god, you totally do."

spider-man groans and buries his face in his hands. this is a disaster.

shinyu laughs. "don’t worry, i won’t tell."

"thank you," spider-man mutters, still dying inside.

shinyu pats his shoulder. "good luck, loverboy."

and with that, he leaves, completely unaware that he just ruined the big reveal.

spider-man sighs so hard.

he’s going to scream into his pillow when he gets home.

—

jake sim has been so, so careful.

for months, he’s balanced both sides of his life perfectly, being the popular golden boy at school while keeping his very obvious crush on you a secret, and being the confident, quick-witted spider-man who gets to talk to you without turning into a human error message.

but all of that completely shatters in a matter of seconds.

and it’s entirely his fault.

it’s late, and you’re heading home from another study session with shinyu.

your backpack is slung lazily over one shoulder, and you’re lost in thought when suddenly—

"HEY!"

a voice yells from the alley beside you, and before you can react, a blur of red and blue drops down from above.

spider-man.

except something is off.

because he’s standing in front of you... maskless.

his wavy hair is messy, his expression is panicked, and his wide brown eyes lock onto yours in sheer horror.

… jake sim.

"JAKE?" you yelp.

"OH MY GOD." jake grabs his head like he just realized he left the stove on. "OH MY GOD, I FORGOT MY MASK. I—I THOUGHT I PUT IT ON BUT I DIDN’T. I JUST SWUNG DOWN WITHOUT IT—OH, THIS IS SO BAD—"

he starts pacing in frantic circles, muttering a meltdown under his breath. "stupid, stupid, stupid—how do you forget your MASK? how did i even think this was a good idea? i should just move to another country—"

you’re just standing there, staring at him, processing.

spider-man is jake sim.

jake sim is spider-man.

it all clicks.

the awkwardness. the stammering. the similarities you swore you noticed but ignored.

you slap a hand over your mouth, because instead of being shocked, instead of yelling or freaking out—

you start laughing.

"you’re kidding." you wheeze. "you’re actually kidding."

jake stops spiraling and looks at you like you just started speaking another language. "wait. why are you laughing?"

you’re losing it. "because this makes so much sense now. oh my god. jake."

he goes so red. "don’t say my name like that while i’m wearing the suit, that feels illegal."

but you can’t stop laughing. "i can’t believe i didn’t put this together sooner. you—oh my god, you were literally short-circuiting in front of me at school while having full-on conversations with me as spider-man."

"please," jake begs. "please let me live."

you wipe a tear from your eye, catching your breath. "wait—hold on—" you inhale, trying to compose yourself. "so… does that mean… you had a crush on me this whole time?"

jake freezes.

his entire body locks up like you just hit him with a paralyzing spell.

you raise an eyebrow. "jake."

he doesn’t move.

he doesn’t breathe.

"jake," you say again. "do you—"

"OKAY—" he blurts out, exploding into motion. "yes! yes. i like you. a lot. i have for a really long time. and i know this is probably the worst way for you to find out but—"

you take a step closer.

he shuts up immediately.

he’s still rambling in his head, though, oh my god, they’re looking at me, they’re getting closer, what does this mean, am i going to die—

and then—

you kiss him.

it’s soft, quick, and so unexpected that it completely short-circuits him.

his brain blue-screens.

by the time you pull away, his soul has left his body.

"you just—" he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

you grin. "you like me."

"YOU JUST KISSED ME."

"yeah." you tilt your head. "you gonna do something about it, spider-man?"

jake.exe has stopped working.

he just stands there, mouth opening and closing, until finally—

he just groans into his hands. "oh my god, i am so in love with you."

ty for reading and enjoying !

enha taglist : @minoouz

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz

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cherrygirlfriend · 1 month ago

Text

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE ☁︎

☁︎ pairing: frat!rafe x fragile fawn!reader

☁︎ summary: rafe cameron? frat president, fuckboy, football captain. you? freak. suspected former cult member. loner.

rafe's gotten bored of all the rafe-proclaimed easy girls at kildare university, the kind who take their panties off if he even looks at them right. no, he's itching for a challenge. a game.

and he decides that the perfect challenge comes in the form of the school's resident weirdo. what he doesn’t know, is that you're smarter than you look. and you love games.

☁︎ warnings / tags: misogyny, drugs, talk of sex. MDNI!

☁︎ author's note: yall are gonna hate me but i'm considering making this into a series... let me know if you’re interested! UPDATE! series masterlist

FRAGILEFAWN MASTERLIST ☁︎ RAFE MASTERLIST

there was one word that could describe the members of kappa sigma at kildare university perfectly.

hedonistic.

none of them cared who they used for their own pleasure, how many girls they hurt by sleeping with them, only to ditch them for the next one. girls weren't people to them. they were bodies; just something to fuck and discard. the members would gather around every wednesday, getting high as they listened to the voicemails desperate girls they'd ghosted had sent them, laughing at their sobs.

rafe cameron was the worst.

a legacy, the fraternity president, and the founder of kappa sigma's official playbook, a little black notebook they'd write down the names of the girls they'd hooked up with (if they remembered them, if they couldn't, they'd write down some defining characteristic, like 'braceface', or 'blonde with big tits') and rate them.

he also had the most names written down. but he was starting to get bored of it, bored of sleeping around with girls who were so predictable, who didn't require any work. who'd get on their knees for him immediately even if he called them by the wrong name. easy girls.

rafe brought the joint away from his lips, blowing smoke out slowly, his eyes half-lidded in thought. he turned to topper, tutting his lips, "top, aren't you getting bored of this shit?"

topper's tongue was too busy being stuck down some drunk girl's throat as she straddled his lap, grinding into him like a bitch in heat, but topper pushed her lips away from his, turning to his friend breathlessly, "bored of what?"

"you know." rafe gestured to the girl in his own lap, "hooking up with some random girl every night who already worship the ground we walk on. y'know, easy girls."

"what are you saying?" topper scoffed, "you want a relationship or something?" the way he said it was like a relationship was the most disgusting thing ever, "fuck no." rafe furrowed his brows in similar disgust, "i'm saying, i want a challenge. i want someone who won't just drop her fucking panties the moment i say her name."

"good luck finding someone like that." topper scoffed, going back to the girl.

"fuck, it's hot out here..." topper mumbled, pouring some water from his water bottle over his face, rubbing it into his skin, rafe's skin covered by a sheen of sweat, just having finished football practice. he ran a hand through his short hair, taking a drink out of his own water bottle. "so, you going to that alpha kappa alpha thing tonight or what?" kelce asked, his breathing heavy.

"i dunno." rafe shrugged, making kelce look at him with furrowed brows, "why?" "it's boring."

"not this shit again." topper groaned, kelce now turning to look at him in question, "the other day rafe started bitchin' about how girls are 'too easy' and it's 'boring'. in my opinion," topper slapped rafe on the shoulder, "he just can't appreciate a good thing. says he wants someone who 'won't fall to her knees just 'cause he looks at them'."

"there aren't that many girls like that here." kelce shrugged, "shit out of luck."

"that's what i told him!" topper exclaimed, taking a drink from his water bottle, wiping the remnants of the liquid to the back of his sleeve, "maybe you could find some freak, or a nerd." kelce suggested, "yeah, like her." topper snorted, nodding his head towards the bleachers. you weren't a freak. you were the freak.

you weren't even doing anything weird, really. just sitting at the bleachers, writing something into a notebook, occasionally taking bites out of one of those soggy pre-packaged sandwiches you could get out of vending machines all around campus. but you had a reputation.

the strange girl who spent most of her time on her own, who all his friends brushed off as 'some weirdo', who spent more time interacting with animals than real people, who people said they'd sometimes seen walking barefoot around the campus in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a long white nightgown, everyone thinking they were hallucinating the girl from ringu.

you'd switched to kildare university in the second year, and yet you hadn't made a single friend.

rafe's eyes narrowed, a slight grin playing on his lips, "yeah. like her."

"no way." topper snorted, "rafe, i was fucking around. i swear, she's gonna fuckin' cannibalize you or sacrifice you to satan. either way, this'll end up with you dead."

"nah." rafe tsked, "she's perfect."

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jikookncity · 21 days ago

Text

HockeyPlayer!Haechan x FigureSkater!Reader

Haechan is the golden boy with a golden life, he's charming, great at hockey, has the greatest teammates and friends, yet when he goes home at the end of the day he can't help but feel empty. Until he meets the figure skater.

WC: 5.7k, unprotected sex (soft though)

Haechan had it good—at least, that’s what everyone said.

Star winger of the university hockey team. Top ten in his class. Witty as hell, with that dangerous mix of sharp sarcasm and heart-melting charm. Professors liked him. Coaches praised him. The student body practically worshipped him. Girls knew his name, wore his jersey, slid into his DMs with everything from flirty jokes to bold propositions. And yeah, sometimes he said yes.

But no matter how loud the arena got when he scored, no matter how many group selfies or wild parties or post-game hookups came his way… he always went home to silence.

And it lingered. Pressed in at the edges. Like an itch beneath the skin.

He’d scroll through texts and close the app. Watch the ceiling in bed. Lie there in the dark, wondering why the hell am I still feeling this way?

He never found the answer.

So every morning at 6 a.m.—before the world was awake, before the noise and the pressure—he went to the rink.

No fans. No teammates. No coach yelling for speed drills. Just Haechan, a puck, and the echo of his skates scraping the ice.

Until today.

He pushes open the door of the practice rink, stick slung over his shoulder, headphones around his neck. He’s got the usual plan: warm up, fire shots at the empty net, skate till his lungs burn.

But when he steps out onto the cold cement floor and looks through the plexiglass—

He stops.

There’s someone on the ice.

Not just someone. A girl.

She glides like she owns the rink—cutting smooth, elegant shapes into the ice. Her arms stretch like they’re painting music into the air. Her hair, braided and caught by the wind, whips as she spins mid-jump, landing with a soundless grace that makes his breath catch.

She's not wearing headphones. Just completely in tune with the rhythm in her head.

He forgets how to breathe.

Haechan’s seen beautiful girls. Dated a few of them. Flirted with plenty. But this is different.

This is watching art in motion. This is seeing control and freedom at once.

This is the first time his heart stutters for real.

And when she finishes, when she skates toward the bench to grab her water bottle, she notices him—just standing there with his stick and stunned expression.

Their eyes meet through the glass.

She gives a small nod, barely a smile. Polite. Cool.

Haechan lifts a hand in greeting, too casually, like he hasn’t just had his entire soul rocked before 7 a.m.

He’s not sure what just happened, but suddenly, that emptiness in his chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

And all he wants now… is to see her skate again tomorrow.

--------------------

The next morning, he’s there even earlier.

5:45 a.m.

No music in his headphones, no stick in his hands—just a water bottle and the restless need to see her again.

She’s already on the ice.

Of course she is.

This time she’s stretching, balancing one leg behind her on the railing like it’s nothing. She’s in the same fitted jacket, her skates already laced. There’s a thermos next to her bag and a single notebook flipped open on the bench, her handwriting neat and organized.

Haechan lingers by the glass until she looks up, arching an eyebrow like what are you staring at?

He flashes a grin. “Morning.”

“...Morning,” she says. Less cool this time. More curious.

He taps the glass with two fingers. “Didn’t know the rink was booked for angels.”

She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. She just blinks at him like she’s trying to figure out what kind of guy says that at 6 a.m.

Then, calmly, “I prefer practicing alone.”

He’s thrown off. Okay, cold. But fair.

He shrugs, playing it smooth. “Same. But, y’know… I started coming here first."

She nods like she knows that already. “Then maybe we can ignore each other.”

With that, she steps back onto the ice—clean, poised, focused. Like he didn’t rattle her at all.

But he knows he did.

Because halfway through her routine, she glances toward him again.

He starts coming every morning. Always early. Always quiet. He doesn’t push, doesn’t flirt too much. He just exists beside her, skating on his side of the rink while she floats through hers like a dream.

Eventually, she starts leaving the thermos lid off, steam curling up.

One morning, Haechan gains the courage to formally introduce himself.

“I’m Haechan.”

“I know.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“You’re on the hockey team. Everyone knows.”

He’s surprised she didn’t mention his reputation. Most girls do.

“I don’t know your name,” he says after a beat.

She hesitates. Then, quietly: “Y/N.”

He lets it settle. Tries it out in his head. Y/N.

“You’re a figure skater?”

She glances at him like he’s stupid. “Clearly.”

He laughs. “Okay, cool, we’re doing sarcasm this early.”

She softens—just barely. It’s the first time he sees it, a flicker of a real smile. He stores it like a secret.

They don’t talk much more that day.

But the next morning, when he walks in, there are two thermoses waiting.

One with a pink cap. One with a navy blue one.

He carefully picks up the navy, takes a sip. Hot chocolate.

He smiles, looking over to her across the rink.

“You’re trying to bribe me into leaving, huh?”

Y/N looks up from her laces. “No. I’m trying to make your game less trash.”

He bursts out laughing.

And for the first time in months, the silence that waits for him after practice isn’t heavy at all.

It hums with something new.

---------------------

The morning is quieter than usual. No music. No conversation yet. Just the sharp rhythm of their blades on the ice and the sound of their breaths misting in the cold air.

They’ve been skating together—separately—for a couple of weeks now. Sharing hot drinks. Trading sarcastic quips. Building something silent but sure.

Today, he’s the one who breaks it.

She’s mid-routine, gliding into a graceful spin, arms arched and chin tilted in perfect alignment. He watches from the boards, leaning against his stick. There’s something about the way she moves—like the ice answers to her instead of the other way around.

When she finally slows, coasting toward the wall for a sip of her drink, she hears him speak:

“You move like music.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

He shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal. “The way you skate. It’s... beautiful.”

Y/N stiffens a little, lowering her thermos. “Is that your thing? Flattering lines at sunrise?”

He grins. “Normally? Yeah. But I mean it this time.”

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

He steps closer to the boards, suddenly serious. “When I skate, it’s all speed and force. Slams and bruises. Everything’s about breaking past people, hitting hard, being fast. But you—”

His voice lowers, more thoughtful now.

“You make the ice look soft.”

Y/N blinks again, stunned.

There’s no flirt in his tone. No smirk.

Just truth.

Her fingers tighten around the thermos. She doesn’t know what to say at first. No one’s ever talked about her skating like that. Not coaches. Not her parents. Not even herself. Only scores and technique and corrections.

But Haechan—he’s watching her like he saw something no one else has.

“…Thank you,” she says finally, voice quieter than usual. “That means a lot.”

He nods, still watching her. “Maybe you could teach me sometime.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You? Do a spin?”

“I could be graceful,” he says, striking a ridiculous pose with one hand in the air, one leg kicked out.

She snorts. “You’d tear your groin.”

He laughs loud and full, and she finds herself smiling—truly, this time.

“I’m serious though,” he says, still smiling but more earnest now. “You skate like you feel everything.”

Y/N looks at him for a long second, the quiet of the rink wrapping around them. Then she nods slowly.

“Okay,” she says. “One lesson.”

He lights up. “Hell yeah.”

“But I’m not holding you when you fall.”

“Oh come on,” he grins. “Isn’t that, like, the entire plot of every skating movie?”

She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are pink.

He can’t stop smiling.

And for the first time, she wonders what it would feel like to let someone into her world—into her rhythm.

Maybe Haechan, with all his speed and spark, could learn to dance on ice after all.

--------------------

They meet earlier than usual. She’s already waiting, lacing up her skates with a smirk.

“You sure about this?” she teases as he steps onto the ice.

“Grace,” Haechan declares, arms wide. “Elegance. Poise. That’s me now.”

She laughs. “We’ll see.”

They start simple—just edge control, nothing fancy. She skates backwards slowly, watching him mirror her steps like a determined, clumsy duckling.

“You’re overthinking it,” she says.

“I’m underprepared for this,” he mutters, wobbling slightly.

She reaches out to adjust his posture, her hands brushing over his arms and shoulders as she moves him into place. He stiffens—not from nerves, but from the warmth that shoots through him when her fingers graze his chest.

Focus, he tells himself.

“Now, try a one-foot glide.”

He does.

And promptly loses balance.

“Sh—!”

Before he can hit the ice, Y/N reacts on instinct—grabbing his sleeve, pulling him toward her to steady him.

Except he’s bigger than she is. Stronger. Off-balance. And she’s on skates too.

They crash hard—both of them tumbling down, skidding slightly.

She lands on top of him, her chest pressed to his, faces barely an inch apart.

The silence after is deafening.

Her hair has fallen into his face. One of his hands instinctively grabs her waist, the other braced against the cold ice. He can feel her breath on his lips. Their bodies flush. Her eyes locked on his.

And for a moment, it aches—with tension, heat, something fragile and new.

Neither of them moves.

Then, with a sharp inhale, Haechan shifts.

He gently pushes her off, careful, hands lingering at her arms as he pulls them both upright again.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low but breathless. “Shit—I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to—”

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, brushing herself off. Her cheeks are very pink.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was… less graceful than I imagined.”

Y/N exhales a shaky laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Could’ve been worse.”

He grins, his eyes flicking to hers again, but this time a bit softer.

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” he says.

Neither of them mentions how long they stayed on the ice.

Or how it suddenly doesn’t feel like just lessons anymore.

--------------

The fall is behind them. Sort of.

Neither of them mentions how long they lay there. Or how warm it felt, despite the ice. But something has shifted — they’re more aware of each other now, in the quiet pauses and lingering glances.

Practice goes on, smoother than before. Haechan’s trying—really trying—and though he’s nowhere near graceful, she can tell he’s determined.

He skates toward her, panting, cheeks flushed from effort.

“I think I just invented a new move,” he says, breathless. “It’s called ‘accidental dive into the boards.’ Gonna change the sport.”

She laughs, handing him her water. “At least you’re not giving up.”

He takes a sip, then gestures toward the journal sitting on the bench. “So what are you working toward? Competition?”

Her expression shifts.

It’s subtle, but the light in her eyes flickers for a second. She nods slowly. “Nationals. December.”

“Solo?”

She hesitates, "I was supposed to do ice dancing. We qualified together last year.”

“We?”

“My ice-dancing partner.” She sets her water down. “He’s been skating with me since we were five. But he tore a ligament a few months ago. Off the ice permanently.”

“Damn,” Haechan murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, quietly. “I’ve been trying to rework everything alone. It’s not the same. It’s not what we trained for.”

There’s a sadness there—not just frustration, but loss. Of rhythm. Of history. Of something no one else could replicate.

Haechan watches her. The silence stretches between them, soft and thoughtful.

Then, gently: “So… what if you had a new partner?”

She looks up sharply. “What?”

He shrugs. “Not a real figure skater. But… I’ve got good balance. Decent coordination. And I’ve already proven I fall with style.”

She blinks. “You’re joking.”

He meets her eyes, completely serious. “I’m not. I mean, yeah, I’d need training. But if it’s just to get through the competition—keep you in it—I can try.”

She stares at him, stunned. “Haechan. Ice dancing isn’t just skating side by side. There’s rhythm. Lifts. Footwork. Timing.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says, “but I know how to train hard. I’ve got endurance, muscle memory, and—” he smirks, “a pretty killer smile for the judges.”

She wants to roll her eyes—but she can’t.

Because underneath the joke, he’s sincere. He means it.

She studies him for a long second. “Why would you even want to?”

He hesitates. Then shrugs.

“Because I think you’re incredible,” he says simply. “And you shouldn’t have to give up just because your partner had to quit. It's not fair, people should see your talent and you should be able to show it to them.”

Her breath catches.

And this time, when she looks at him, she sees more than the crowd-favorite hockey player. She sees someone who gets it. The discipline. The disappointment. The pressure to keep going even when it hurts.

She crosses her arms, tilts her head. “You’d actually let me boss you around on the ice every morning?”

He grins. “Kinda into that, actually.”

She smacks his arm lightly, but she’s smiling.

“Fine,” she says. “Trial run. One week. If you can’t keep up, you’re out.”

He salutes. “Yes, coach.”

And for the first time in weeks, she feels something steady rising in her chest again.

Hope.

------------------

They meet the next morning with new energy.

Y/N has her notebook open, fresh drills outlined with neat little arrows and notes. Haechan’s already sweating before they hit the ice, running through stretches like it’s game day.

“This is nothing,” he says. “Just like practice drills with more… toe pointing.”

“You’re going to regret saying that,” she deadpans.

And he does.

Fifteen minutes in, he’s panting, arms flailing as he tries to mirror her steps in sync. She glides effortlessly—an extension of the music she plays from her little speaker. He, on the other hand, looks like someone trying to moonwalk on a treadmill.

“Okay,” she says, skating toward him. “We need to work on lift position.”

“Lift,” he echoes warily. “Like… pick you up?”

She nods. “Basic ballroom hold, first. I’ll show you the stance.”

She steps closer, guiding his arms with her hands. One around her waist, the other holding hers. Her other hand rests lightly on his shoulder.

It’s the most physical they’ve ever been.

Her body fits against his in a way that immediately short-circuits his thoughts. She smells like vanilla and winter air. Her breath is steady. His? Not so much.

“Don’t grip so tight,” she says, adjusting his hand on her back. “I’m not a hockey stick.”

He chuckles, low and a little flustered. “Right. Soft hands. Got it.”

They hold the pose for a moment. Close. Too close.

Her eyes flick up to meet his. And neither of them moves.

The air shifts—something unspoken curling around the space between their mouths.

Then—

She clears her throat, stepping back like nothing happened.

“Try the lift now,” she says. “I’ll jump into it. You just need to support me and hold steady.”

He nods quickly, desperate to shake off the heat rising in his chest.

She skates away, then glides toward him at full speed. He braces. She jumps.

And for half a second, it works.

Her hands on his shoulders. His hands beneath her thighs. Her legs wrapping slightly as he lifts.

But then—

“Shit—”

His balance tilts.

They tumble down again—him landing on his back, her crashing on top of him.

This time, it's worse.

Her face is inches from his, her legs tangled with his skates, her palm flat against his chest. His hand is still gripping her waist, fingers pressing into her jacket.

They're both breathless.

And this time, neither of them laughs.

Haechan swallows hard. He can feel her heartbeat, fast and frantic, against his chest.

“I—” he starts, but his voice cracks.

She blinks down at him, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed from cold and maybe something more.

He lets go instantly. “Sorry—shit, are you okay?”

She rolls off awkwardly, sitting up beside him. “I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah,” he says, brushing hair out of his face. “That was... very Olympic of us.”

She finally huffs a laugh, rubbing her palms together. “You didn’t drop me.”

He glances at her. “Like I said… I got you.”

Something flickers in her gaze. Warm. Soft. Vulnerable.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out all over again.

And for the first time, Haechan feels nervous around someone.

Not because he’s worried about what she thinks of him—but because he cares what she thinks of him.

And that’s a dangerous new kind of game.

--------------

They don’t practice much after the fall.

They skate a little. Talk less. Both shaken—not from injury, but from whatever that moment was on the ice. Neither of them can name it, but it’s been simmering for days, and now it’s just beneath the surface.

After practice, they sit on the bench lacing off their skates. She’s tugging at her laces, unusually quiet. Haechan watches her, brow furrowed.

“You okay?”

She nods without looking up. “Just tired.”

“From skating?” he asks.

She hesitates. Then shakes her head. “From everything.”

He waits, letting the silence invite her in.

Finally, she speaks. “I’ve been working toward Nationals since I was eight. Training before sunrise. Sacrificing everything. And now I’m scrambling to make it work with a brand-new routine, no partner, no coach support. Just... pressure. Expectations. And silence when I go home.”

Her voice cracks, just slightly.

He swallows hard. “That sounds... lonely.”

She nods. “It is.”

His jaw tightens. “I get it.”

Her eyes flick to him, surprised.

“I mean, mine’s different. But yeah. I win games, I’m surrounded by people who cheer for me, who laugh at my jokes, who call me a golden boy—” he pauses, eyes down, “—but I still go home and feel like something’s missing.”

She watches him quietly, her expression softening.

He turns toward her, fully now. “But lately, I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”

That freezes her.

He’s serious. Not joking. Not smirking. Just... open.

Her lips part, just slightly, unsure what to say.

Haechan’s heart hammers in his chest. He leans forward a little, voice quiet now.

“Can I kiss you?”

She blinks, startled—but not afraid. Her lips twitch into the smallest, shyest smile.

Then she nods.

And he leans in slowly, gently, giving her time to change her mind.

She doesn’t.

Their lips meet, soft and unsure at first. His hand finds her jaw, hers curls lightly around his wrist. It’s delicate, almost hesitant.

Until he tilts his head, kisses her deeper—longer.

Her fingers slip into his hoodie. His other hand finds her waist.

When they finally part, their foreheads rest together, breaths warm between them.

He grins, just barely. “So... does this mean I can ask you on a date?”

She laughs softly, eyes still closed. “You just kissed me. Bit late for formalities.”

He chuckles. “True. But I still want to take you out.”

She opens her eyes, meeting his.

“Okay,” she says. “One date.”

He beams.

“Better make it a good one, hockey boy.”

“Oh,” he whispers, eyes dropping to her lips again, “I intend to.”

And this time, when she kisses him, she doesn’t hesitate.

-----------------

The diner is almost empty when they walk in, that familiar neon buzz lighting up her face in soft pink and blue.

It’s old-school—checkered floors, chrome stools, a jukebox humming in the corner—and she looks at him like he’s insane when he holds the door open with a dramatic bow.

“Only the finest establishment for you, m’lady,” he says with mock grandeur.

She laughs. “You're ridiculous.”

“Hot and ridiculous,” he corrects, pointing to the booth. “After you.”

They slide into the booth across from each other. The menu is sticky and chaotic. She orders a burger. He orders pancakes—at 10 p.m.—and a large strawberry shake with two straws, because he’s cheesy and he knows it.

They talk.

And talk.

They share childhood stories—hers about getting scolded for skating barefoot in the house, his about getting his head stuck in a hockey net twice. She laughs so hard she snorts. He mimics her voice. She flicks a fry at his forehead.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole night.

Eventually, he slides in beside her, casually throwing his arm over her shoulders.

“You cold?”

She nods, hiding a smile, and lets herself lean into him, her temple tucked under his jaw.

They share fries from the same plate, dipping them into the shake. She makes a face the first time she tries it, but when he gives her a look, she shrugs and goes back for another.

He watches her lick salt off her fingers, and that… that does things to him.

But he behaves. Barely.

They leave close to midnight. It’s cold out, stars spilled across the sky, her breath curling in front of her.

He walks her to her door.

She stops on the porch, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “This was… really nice.”

He smiles, eyes dropping to her lips. “Yeah. It was.”

She bites her lip, hesitant, then looks up through her lashes.

“Will you kiss me again?”

His breath catches.

Then he’s cupping her face, pressing her back gently against the door, kissing her like he’s wanted to all night. Slow at first—sweet, careful—but then she sighs into his mouth and tugs at his hoodie.

And just like that, it ignites.

He groans, pressing closer, her back thudding softly against the door. His hands slide under her shirt, palms skimming warm skin, thumbs teasing at her waist as their mouths move in sync—needy now, deeper, hotter.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly. He gasps against her lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She smiles against his mouth. “You started it.”

He leaves a little kiss on her neck and mouth when she gasps.

They finally pull away, both breathless, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He rests his forehead against hers.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

He nods, backing away slowly like he might kiss her again if he lingers.

Then he turns and walks home, floating.

When he walks into the apartment, Mark and Jeno are sprawled on the couch eating cereal and playing Mario Kart.

Mark looks up first. “Yo. Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

Jeno squints. “Did you win something?”

Haechan doesn’t answer.

He just walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and stares into it like he just unlocked the secret to happiness.

Mark snorts. “Okay, lover boy.”

Jeno grins. “He definitely got kissed.”

Haechan finally turns, resting his head against the fridge door, the stupidest grin on his face.

“We did kiss” he says, dreamy.

Mark groans. “Oh no. He’s down bad.”

Jeno laughs. “So down bad.”

And Haechan just grins wider, closing his eyes.

Because yeah—he is.

------------------

The morning after their date, the rink feels different.

Not colder. Not warmer. Just… alive.

She’s already stretching by the boards when Haechan arrives, hoodie hanging loose, hair a mess, and that signature smirk playing on his lips like he knows he’s got her thinking about last night.

“You’re late,” she says, not looking at him.

“I was up all night thinking about fries and that cute little noise you made when I kissed your neck,” he replies casually, setting down his bag.

Her head snaps toward him, scandalized—but her cheeks are pink.

“Stretch,” she says quickly, turning away.

He grins. “Yes, coach.”

The moment they hit the ice, it’s different.

Charged.

His hands on her waist linger longer than needed. Her fingers trail along his neck when she adjusts his stance. Their gazes lock between turns. Their mouths get close in holds, breaths brushing but not quite touching.

It’s… dangerous.

And neither of them is pulling back.

“Ready for the new lift?” she asks.

He nods, already sliding an arm around her, the other beneath her thigh. They move in sync now, less awkward, more fluid. She jumps, he catches her clean, her legs curling around his waist just for stability—obviously.

But neither of them moves after.

His hands are gripping her tight. Her body flush against his chest. Their faces… inches.

Her voice is soft. “You’re not letting go.”

“Do you want me to?”

She swallows. “Practice is over.”

He blinks. “It is?”

She nods slowly, heart pounding.

He doesn’t say a word. Just leans in and kisses her.

It’s nothing like last night. This time, it’s hot. Desperate. Familiar now, but still breathtaking. His hands slide up beneath her jacket, dragging along bare skin. Her fingers are in his hair, tugging. She gasps when he deepens it, and he nearly groans into her mouth.

They break apart just barely, panting.

“Wanna come over?” he asks, voice husky. “I’ll cook for you. We can watch a movie. You can keep distracting me.”

She grins, biting her bottom lip.

“You cook?”

“No,” he says, laughing. “But I order really well. I do this thing where I press a button and it shows up at my door.”

She laughs, breathless, leaning in to brush her lips against his again. “Okay. Dinner and a movie.”

He wraps an arm tighter around her. “And maybe dessert?”

She smirks. “Depends how good the movie is.”

He kisses her again, harder this time, and she melts into him.

Practice is very over.

---------------

Haechan’s place is cozy, dimly lit, the kind of warm that makes you want to stay. Candles flicker on the kitchen counter. A soft playlist hums in the background—something slow, dreamy. There’s takeout spread across the coffee table, half-eaten because they’ve been talking, laughing, stealing bites from each other’s plates instead of focusing on the food.

She’s curled into the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies. He’s sitting beside her, one arm thrown over the backrest, eyes only on her.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she says, eyes flicking to his.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not listening to anything I’m saying.”

He leans closer, voice low. “I’m listening. Just… not with my ears.”

Her cheeks flush. She tries to look away, but his fingers gently tip her chin back toward him.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night.”

She smiles shyly. “Then why haven’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. He just leans in.

The kiss is slow, patient. Not rushed. Like they have all the time in the world. His lips part hers carefully, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. She sighs softly into him, shifting closer, one hand on his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.

When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless.

He nods toward the bedroom. “Do you wanna…?”

She looks at him—really looks at him—and sees nothing but warmth and tenderness and heat.

“Yes,” she whispers.

He kisses her again before standing, taking her hand, and leading her through the dark apartment into his room.

---------

The door to Haechan’s bedroom clicks shut behind them.

She doesn’t even make it a full step inside before his hand slides to her waist and he pulls her in, kissing her like he’s been starving.

Soft, careful kisses are long gone.

This one’s hot, open-mouthed, needy. His lips crush into hers, tongue sliding in when she gasps. His hand fists the back of her hoodie, tugging her closer, like he needs her to feel every inch of how much he’s been holding back.

She moans into him, fingers already curling into his shirt.

“Been thinking about this all damn day,” he breathes against her lips. “Your mouth, your body, the way you looked at me on the ice—fuck, I almost lost it.”

He walks her backward, never breaking the kiss, hands sliding under her hoodie and up her bare skin, palms warm, breath hot.

He lifts her—just scoops her right up—making her squeal against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. He carries her like she weighs nothing, grinning into the kiss even as his eyes darken.

He lays her back on his bed, immediately tugging off her hoodie and shirt in one move, eyes drinking her in.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, hovering over her. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

She pulls him down, crashing into another kiss, more desperate now. Their hips grind together, his hands gripping her thighs tight, pressing into the softness there like he’s trying to memorize the feel.

Clothes come off in frantic, messy movements—her bra unhooked with a flick, his shirt stripped off between kisses, pants half-stumbled out of as they fumble and laugh between gasps.

He looks down at her, completely bare beneath him, and stills for a moment, chest heaving.

“You sure?” he asks, voice wrecked.

She nods, eyes glassy with need. “Yes. Please.”

And that’s all he needs.

He kisses her again—slower, deeper, more purposeful—hands roaming her body, mouth trailing down her neck, across her chest, over her stomach. She arches into him, moaning his name when his lips hit just the right spots.

“Fuck, the sounds you make…” he groans, nipping at her collarbone. “Gonna make me cum just from this.”

When he finally slides into her, it’s slow at first, careful, his forehead pressed to hers, their fingers intertwined. Her gasp melts into a moan as he bottoms out, staying still just a moment too long.

Then he pulls back—and thrusts deep.

She cries out.

His rhythm picks up fast, desperate, like he’s been holding back for way too long. Every push of his hips has him groaning her name, mouth hot against her ear.

“Feel so good—so tight—fuck, baby, I’ve been going crazy.”

She moans his name, wrapping her legs tighter around him. “Haechan—oh my god—don’t stop—”

“Not planning to.”

His hand slips between them, thumb brushing fast over her clit, making her jolt, cry out louder. He watches her fall apart beneath him, the way her mouth drops open, the way her nails dig into his back.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to hers. “You know that, right?”

She nods, eyes barely open, lips trembling. “Yours.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours, Haechan—please—I’m yours.”

He kisses her hard, hips slamming into hers faster, messier, both of them chasing it now. She’s gasping, writhing, completely lost to it—and so is he.

When they come, it’s together—loud, breathless, full-body shaking, his name tangled with hers in the dark.

He collapses onto her chest, both of them covered in sweat, hearts racing.

Minutes pass in silence.

Then he lifts his head, eyes dazed but smiling, brushing her hair back.

“Dinner and a movie, huh?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “You owe me both.”

He grins, leaning in for another kiss—softer now, lazy and sweet. “Round two’s gonna be a rom-com. Promise.”

She hums, pulling him close again. “Only if there’s popcorn.”

------------------

The sun peeks through the curtains, golden and slow.

Haechan stirs awake, face buried in the crook of her neck, skin warm, bodies tangled under his sheets. Her leg is still draped over his waist. She’s wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie and a sleepy little smile.

He brushes a soft kiss to her collarbone.

She hums. “Morning.”

“Mm. Best one I’ve ever had.”

His phone buzzes somewhere on the floor, followed by a string of pings.

She groans. “Make it stop.”

He grins and leans over, blindly patting for it. “Probably Mark wondering where I am. Morning practice. I forgot.”

She bites her lip. “Oops.”

He chuckles, finally grabbing his phone.

17 missed messages. 3 missed calls. Group chat: ‘Ice Kings 🏒💀’

Haechan winces. “They’re gonna kill me.”

He taps the call button.

“Bro,” Mark’s voice comes through immediately, annoyed and dramatic. “Where are you? Coach’s been asking—are you alive?”

“Barely,” Haechan says, glancing over at the girl beside him, who giggles under the blankets.

There’s a pause.

“Was that a girl?” Jeno chimes in.

“She giggled, bro,” Jaemin adds. “There’s a hoodie-stealing, bed-hogging, toe-curling girl in your bed, isn’t there?”

Haechan laughs, rubbing his face. “Okay, okay—chill. Yeah. I wasn’t just ‘sleeping in.’”

Mark whistles low. “Okay lover boy. Since when?”

“Since…” Haechan glances at her, smiling. “Since I started skating at 6 a.m. with someone who moves like a dream.”

“Wait,” Jaemin says. “Skating? You mean figure skating?”

The line goes silent.

Then chaos.

“Bro what the hell—are you doing twirls now??” “Did you buy tights?” “IS THERE VIDEO—”

“Shut up,” Haechan groans, but he’s grinning. “She’s a figure skater. I’ve been helping her train for a competition. It’s… not just skating anymore.”

Mark’s quiet for a second. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

Haechan glances down at her again. She’s holding his pillow to her chest, smiling at him like she’s never smiled at anyone else.

“I really like her.”

More silence.

Then Mark says, “That’s actually… really cool, man.”

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees. “I mean, it’s hilarious, but it’s cool. I bet you look majestic.”

“Like a graceful little hockey fairy,” Jaemin teases.

Haechan groans. “I hate all of you.”

“But we love you,” Mark laughs. “Seriously, though. That’s dope. And kinda hot.”

“Tell her she’s got full team approval,” Jeno adds. “And that she’s officially invited to the next party.”

Haechan smirks. “I’ll let her know. But if you weirdos scare her off, I’m body checking every one of you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright, go back to—whatever you were doing,” Jaemin says, snickering. “We’ll tell Coach you pulled a hamstring. Or found religion.”

Haechan hangs up with a laugh, tossing his phone aside.

He rolls back toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her close.

“You heard all that?”

She nods, smiling. “Graceful little hockey fairy?”

He groans. “God. You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

He kisses her again, deeper now, hand sliding up the back of his hoodie on her body.

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go either.”

Want to read part 2 with the competition, more fluff and smut? Subscribe to my patreon here or read the full story here. Or if you'd like to give a lil tip, do so here!

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan x reader #haechan x you #lee haechan #haechan fluff #haechan smut #donghyuck x you #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck

417 notes · View notes

earthsparked · 16 days ago

Note

I’ve been a semi-frequent lurker for a few months and I just wanted to tell you how much I love your content. I have a hard time finding anything reader-insert for transformers that isn’t nsfw, and it’s even harder to find platonic stuff.

Not trying to judge the people who like spicy stuff, but I just want to be friends with the giant space robots and I’m glad there’s content for that :3

I want to hangout, not make out lol

Aw, thank you!! I'm so glad! I am really really happy others are enjoying! <333

Hanging out with the mechs would be so damn good. Once you get past the initial hesitation and introductions, and they figure out that having humans around is good for everyone, they'd be like First Aid. Setting up little human traps to lure you into spending time around them.

Drift's is a little austere but so cozy. He carefully selected seating in colors that are supposed to be calming. There's a shelf of poetry books, and some art supplies and adult coloring books, and blank notebooks so you can express yourself. He's adjusted the lights to be warm and not too bright.

Hot Rod's has a minifridge full of every kind of junk food imaginable, a giant pile of cushions all in his own colors, and an absolutely massive television with a bunch of game systems. The game systems have racing and fighting and football games (and Animal Crossing).

First Aid has several scattered around the medbay, all equipped with water bottles, fruit, earplugs (!!!) and noise-canceling headphones, and a white noise machine. A few weighted blankets, and some carefully selected memory foam beds. There's even canopies to shade out the infirmary lights and drapes you can close to feel enclosed and safe. At least one is tucked into the wall, and they're all carefully out of range of mech feet.

Ratchet does not have any. He gets swarmed by humans anyway.

Optimus Prime is never in one place long enough to maintain a human trap, but he has a sleeper cab that is tricked tf OUT with pillows and fairy lights and books. Minifridge is empty but he always gets groceries delivered if you're coming with him somewhere. There's even some "Learn To ____" craft kits with things like crochet and knitting supplies. And, because a human specifically asked for it, translations of Megatron's early revolutionary works. Talking with humans about it has been surprisingly healing...

Jazz has the most elaborate setup, created for a lot of people to hang out at the same time. He has a whole arcade with BeatSaber, DDR and those sit-on racing games, a stupid huge sound system, movie theater with giant couches you just sink into. There's a popcorn machine and a drink station. (Prowl is pretty sure Jazz just stole the contents of a movie theater, but hasn't been able to prove it.) There are also a bunch of music instruments if you want to play, or learn to play.

Prowl has a human-sized desk for working, a leather couch, the fastest internet you ever saw in your life, every single streaming service, and a coffee bar. It's very quiet, very simple, but you absolutely won't be bothered by anyone else. Prowl will probably not even acknowledge you. It's the ultimate for parallel play.

Bumblebee would rather kidnap you and take you on patrol to where ever you want to go, so he can get you out of the base. There's a whole world out there! He carries extra changes of clothes and shoes and some toiletries in case you end up staying out a long time.

Hound has a little oasis that's practically an indoor temperate forest. Lots of plants, a huge indoor pond with fish and a fountain, a bench to sit on and bask in the light from a skylight. He'd probably invite you to help tend the plants and fish. Offer you some fresh-grown fruit from the trees.

Wheeljack's is officially considered a health hazard. There's boxes and boxes of spare parts and tools to play around with, spare chemicals for experimenting, lots of science texts from Cybertron that he translated (poorly) into Earth languages. A fire extinguisher (Red Alert insisted) and a first aid kit (First Aid insisted). Though most of the time if you're around Wheeljack, he's going to draft you into helping with whatever he's working on, instead.

Bluestreak's is understated but pleasant. He has a hammock set up with a very, very soft blanket and pillow, and he got Sunstreaker to paint a night-time mural with accurate star patterns as seen from Cybertron. There's a few little games and fidget toys, beanbags to toss around, one of those sticky dartboards with fuzzy balls to throw. He also starts a collection of stuffed animals.

Bulkhead has every single Lego set. All of them.

Tailgate and Cyclonus (mostly Tailgate) have messy playthings like silly string, water guns, sculpting clay, finger painting. There's a giant ball pit.

Arcee has actual guns, and a vast array of knives and swords. You're about to learn self-defense whether you want to or not.

Swerve has the most wild karaoke setup you have ever seen, or ever will see, and a clothes closet full of designer outfits and accessories in every possible size and fashion for performing. You're going to feel like a superstar.

Brainstorm has a 40-ounce Big Gulp of soda placed under a cardboard box, held up by a precariously balanced stick, which is attached to a suspicious string that trails off into the distance. The Big Gulp is a holographic projection.

Rung has puzzles, both the flat kind you put together and the 3D kind you have to solve. There's different colors of sand and sculpting tools for expressing yourself in a zen garden. There's a giant plush teddy bear big enough for you to climb in its lap, and calming music. Aromatherapy in pleasant fragrances. Also, lots and lots of candy.

Whirl has alcohol and fireworks.

#earthsparked asks #transformers x human #transformers x reader #human distribution system #humans are space cats

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bluesidez · 1 year ago

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GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #plus size reader #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o’hara x chubby reader #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #miguel x fem!reader

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wheeboo · 10 months ago

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pulse points | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. Being the TA for your anatomy class has always been really rewarding, especially stemming in your passion for the medical field. But as it’s approaching the peak of the school semester and labs have gotten more intense, you aren’t surprised to be dedicating your time to tutoring your strangely handsome, dorky, yet enigmatic classmate during after school hours — and reassuring him how to not be afraid of dissections. PAIRING. wen junhui x TA!reader (ft. performance unit as jun's roommates + mentions of wonwoo and jihoon) GENRE. fluff, classmates to lovers, humour WARNINGS/TAGS. unrealistic TA x student dynamics lmao, lots of medical sciency-anatomy talk, talks about dissections n cutting into things (they dissect a sheep brain), mentions of tools used for dissections, yn is wayyy too studious its a bit unhealthy perhaps, their love language is napping together n sharing food :(, alcohol and drinking (yn gets drunk 😣), they flirt in the middle of a damn dissection AHHAHA WORD COUNT. 15.9k

notes: this is my fic for the "back to school" collab hosted by @camandemstudios! i hope u all enjoy <3 was lowkey hating this fic as i wrote it but... i think it turned out fine?!?! thank you to all my moots, specifically @bananabubble @slytherinshua @etherealyoungk and the collab discord server for either helping me w ideas n brainrot or reading over the fic!! love u all to the stars and back <3

Three dollars is not enough for Jun to buy himself lunch.

He could probably snag himself a stale, English muffin from the dining hall, but then he’d be walking around campus with a dry tongue until after his classes end. And unsurprisingly, he forgot his water bottle back in his apartment. Briefly, he considers texting Soonyoung or Minghao to perhaps drop by the apartment and grab his water bottle or even a quick snack that’ll last him, but the two of them were already knee deep enough of responsibilities of their own.

Fucking capitalism.

He’s already out of breath speed walking all the way from across campus and through four different hallways. The large windows of the science building bring in the natural sunlight at the peak of the afternoon, allowing it to cascade across the polished floors and right to the ends of his feet with every step that he takes.

Jun purses his lips together tightly as he rounds one last corner before arriving in front of his current class: Anatomy. The quick glance at the time displayed on his phone shows that he’s around eight minutes late, which is way better than the fifteen minutes from last week. His shoulders slouch slightly with a bit of dread as he reaches for the doorknob and pulls it open.

Compared to the beginning of the year, there’s more empty seats in the lecture hall now. Honestly, Jun is surprised he hasn’t dropped out of the class yet, because his grade in all honesty isn’t… the best, to put it simply𑁋he’s passing, somehow, but just barely.

But he simply can’t afford to drop it and take on a new class like a snap of a finger, and he knows that if he bails now, he’ll only be prolonging his graduation date, a situation neither his parents nor his bank account would be happy about. He wasn’t even supposed to be in this class in the first place, but his horrible procrastination habits and the fact that the other classes he wanted filled up so quickly left him with no other choice.

Jun sits down in a seat near the back of the class, trying to blend in and hoping the professor won’t notice his tardiness. He swiftly pulls out his notebook and laptop and redirects his focus to the front of the classroom, where he sees Professor Lee already lecturing something about vascular anatomy and blood circulation, motioning towards the slideshow displayed on the screen.

“…the brachiocephalic trunk branches off the aortic arch, which divides into the right subclavian artery and the right common carotid artery. These arteries supply blood to the arm and the brain, respectively…”

The words seem to flow through his brain like water. Even when he jots them down in his notes for him to study later, he reads the words like hieroglyphics. Perhaps it’s the hunger getting to him or just the mounting stress, but the lecture feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

By the time Professor Lee finishes with the lecture, he has five pages of notes that feel like a jumble of terms and diagrams.

However, just as he thought he might finally catch a break, the slideshow switches to the next slide.

“Now, let’s discuss the final major lab that will be crucial for your grades,” Professor Lee explains, a determined look on his face. “Your dissections that you will be finishing the year off with. I’m letting you all know about these in advance so you would have plenty of time to prepare.”

Jun’s stomach drops. Dissections. Of course, he knew it was coming, as it was quite literally listed in eye-catching bold letters in the syllabus at the beginning of the term. Yet the thought of cutting into anything and seeing its insides makes him almost squeamish.

“This will account for a significant portion of your final grade. I can’t stress enough how important it is to take this seriously. Remember that dissections aren’t just about retaining names and locations in the body. They’re about seeing the relationships between different structures and understanding how they function together in real life.”

Every fibre of his being is aching for him to raise his hand and stupidly refute. He imagines what he’d say𑁋“I’m not good with blood,” or “Is there another activity I could do because I’m absolutely scared shitless?”𑁋but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he slouches further in his seat, hoping to disappear. He weighs all of his options, but they’re all equally unappealing: he can’t drop the class, he can’t afford to fail, and he certainly can’t magically become proficient at dissections overnight.

“Since the class has an uneven amount of students and the limited amount of specimens we have, I’ve decided to pair you all up. Y/N, may you hand out the partner lists?”

Jun feels himself tense in his seat as his eyes scan the room and land on you. Not only are you the TA of the class, but your seemingly calm demeanour as you drift throughout the room handing each student paperwork makes you appear almost intimidating to his eyes.

When you finally reach him, he swears he catches a glimpse of a slight curl to your lips as you silently hand him the slip of paper that contains his partner assignment, before walking down to the next person.

At first, the paper essentially states the same information that was discussed earlier: the dissection assignment, guidelines, and a list of required materials. But then his gaze falls to the part that matters most: his partner's name.

Y/N L/N, it reads. You’re his partner. Shit.

Your calm, composed attitude and role as the TA have already set a high bar for expectations in his mind. You’re probably going to be hyperanalysing and dissecting every aspect of his class performance, knowing his poor little heart wouldn’t be able to handle all that. You probably already have this tarnished reputation of him in your mind, with his frequent tardiness and the amount of times he’s dozed off in class.

Jun glances around the lecture hall, noticing other students exchanging whispers and glances at their own partner assignments. Some seem relieved, while others look as apprehensive as he feels. His stomach churns with the thought of having to work closely with you.

Professor Lee clears his throat and speaks, “Now that you all know your partners, I request that you all sit next to each other. These will be your seats starting from today and until the lab finishes. I also strongly encourage you all to exchange contact information with each other. Your collaboration together will be vital to your success in this lab.”

As the students shuffle around, Jun finds himself stuck in an uncomfortable limbo, watching as everyone pairs up and settles into their new seats, naturally exchanging contact information with one another. Then he shuffles for his backpack that was leaning against his chair in order to go find where you sit, but as he’s about to stand up, he’s met with you taking a seat right next to him.

Your eyes meet. A faint smile crosses your features. His backpack slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor with a dramatic thump.

“Hi,” You greet him softly, before offering a hand to him. “Granola bar? Had an extra one.”

Jun just blinks, eyes flickering between your face and the hand you have extended out to him. Then he awkwardly clears his throat, tentatively reaching out to grab the granola bar from your grasp, and the warmth emitting from your hand seems to crawl up his neck.

“Thanks,” he mutters sheepishly, shifting his gaze away to hide a small upturn to the corners of his lips.

The rest of class passes by in a blur, mainly with Professor Lee going over proper attire to wear and safety protocols for the dissection labs. And when the clock strikes dismissal time, students begin to filter out of the lecture hall, chatting amongst themselves as Jun struggles to stuff his laptop inside his backpack.

You’re already gone to the front to talk to Professor Lee when Jun looks over. He watches as you hand in what looks like a stack of paper, only to be given another one right back, probably of assignments that the class has done lately. The air of professionalism that surrounds you is quite admirable, he would say.

You seem to exchange a few more words with Professor Lee before turning on your heel to leave the lecture hall, the stack of papers neatly held under your arm.

By the time Jun is already on his way to his next class, he pulls the granola bar that you had given him out from the pocket of his jeans, unwrapping it and taking a bite out of it, savouring the moment as it relieves his nerves and gnawing hunger.

Then by the time finishes his last class for the day, reality hits him the second he steps out of the building. Figuratively, and maybe even literally, at this point.

He forgot to get your number for this lab.

The click of your pen echoes throughout the vast lecture hall. Unintelligible mutters leave your lips as your eyes quickly scan over the papers in front of you with ease. Among the many tasks you have assigned as TA, grading assignments is one of them, and you find yourself marking and correcting each paper just as you’ve done many times before.

There used to be rumours floating around that your grading style was particularly strict, even more so than Professor Lee. Though it was probably spread around with the intention to intimidate other students and establish your reputation as someone annoyingly meticulous, you hardly let it get to you.

The truth is, you were fair in your grading, but thorough. You didn’t see the point in letting half-baked work slide, especially when you knew these assignments could determine someone’s future. Medicine has been your passion for as long as you could remember, and that dedication extended into almost everything you did. Being the TA for the class was just one factor of it.

It’s much, much quieter after school hours when most classes have finished for the day, and it’s natural to bask in the peacefulness that drifts throughout the barren room. You sort out the papers in front of you in a neat stack before taking a moment to stretch your arms up above your head, a soft sigh leaving you at the tension dissipating away from your limbs.

As you begin to shuffle through all the papers in front of you𑁋separating them into piles of graded assignments and unfinished ones that you’ll save for later on𑁋there’s a quiet knock at the door that makes you pause in place. You turn your head towards the door, anticipating for someone to come in.

Then another knock.

You swear you see some sort of shadow in the door window. It appears then disappears, and you roll your eyes, thinking it was just someone who was lost or purposely going around knocking on each door (which has happened way more than one could expect).

The shadow appears again, and this time, you decide on heading to the door yourself. And as you twist the doorknob and pull the door open simultaneously, you find yourself coming face-to-face with Jun, who looks a bit sheepish as he’s caught mid-knock. His eyes widen upon seeing you right in front of him, and he brings his hand down to his side.

You blink up at him, not expecting for him to be here at this moment of the day.

“Junhui?”

It’s at this point of his life that Jun realises he really isn’t used to people calling him by his proper first name. But the way you say it is different𑁋soft and warm, like an unexpected compliment.

“Uh, hi,” he greets a tad bit awkwardly, mentally slapping himself in the face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Oh, no, you’re not. Don’t worry,” You tell him reassuringly, catching the way his eyes seem to flicker everywhere but on you. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jun fidgets slightly, his gaze bouncing between the floor and your face. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “Actually, I... um, forgot to get your number earlier today. For… for the lab, I mean. Professor Lee said we should exchange information so I thought I would ask. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. “Ah, I see. No problem. I’m glad you came by to get it. Here, let me just𑁋”

You shove into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, only to feel that it wasn’t there. Then you glance over to your desk, seeing it sitting next to your abundance of papers, before returning back to Jun.

You shove a hand into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, only to feel that it wasn’t there. Then you glance over to your desk, seeing it sitting next to your abundance of papers, before returning back to Jun.

“Here, you can come in. Let me just get my phone real quick.” You step to the side and open the door wider for him.

Jun visibly hesitates in the doorway, before muttering a quiet thank you and stepping inside the lecture hall. It’s certainly a sight to see the room so stripped of other students besides you and him, the sounds of his footsteps bouncing off the walls. He takes in the stacks of papers that you have spread across your desk, and he feels some nerves snake their way up his spine at the thought of you grading his work.

“Wow, that looks like a lot,” he comments gingerly.

“Yeah, it’s quite the pile, right?” You agree with a light chuckle as you grab your phone and unlock it. “Always happens near the end of the sem.”

Jun’s eyes wash over you with a look of concern. “That seems… stressful.”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, it keeps me busy.”

“Well, you should get some good rest after this then,” he remarks coolly.

“Wish I could, but I have some tutoring scheduled in about half an hour,” You say, tone warm but tinged with a hint of weariness as you glance at the time on your phone. “One of the students in the intro biology class needs help with some of the basics before their midterm. So… rest will have to wait.”

From that, Jun shifts awkwardly, his fingers playing with the strap of his backpack. His brain races as he considers his options. You’re clearly knowledgeable and dedicated, not to mention you seem approachable, but the thought of admitting how much he’s struggling makes his throat dry, plus the guilt of adding more to your busy plate.

“Tutoring, huh?” Jun finally says, trying to sound casual. “Is that… something you do a lot?”

You nod, tapping away on your phone as you pull up your contact information. “Yeah, actually. It’s nice to help people out. Keeps me up with the material too. Usually I’m free most days at any time after classes.”

Jun continues to gaze at you wonderingly until after you pick up your head to look at him, to which he faces away immediately. He scratches the back of his neck bashfully, before fixing his posture and clearing his throat.

“Do you… have room for one more student?” Then he feels the immediate regret afterwards. “It’s okay if not. I know that you’re busy and all that𑁋”

“Junhui,” You interrupt gently, a calm smile on your face. “I have room. Don’t worry about it.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, the reassuring warmth on your face easing the knots in his stomach. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’d be more than happy to find a time that works for us both. Just let me know what you need, and we’ll figure a time out. We’re lab partners, after all,” You say gleefully. “Speaking of which, you can put your number in here.”

You extend an arm with your phone in-hand. Jun takes the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment, and types in his phone number and information. When he hands the phone back, he looks up to meet your eyes, trying to muster a more confident expression.

“Thank you so much, really, I…” His voice trails off for a moment, trying to regain his words. “I’ll owe you one for this, truly.”

“There’s no need.”

Jun shakes his head. “Seriously, I’ll feel bad.”

You bite at your bottom lip in thought, an endearing look washing over your features as you consider his insistence. The pleading in his eyes is hard to ignore, and it makes your heart soften in your chest. You take a moment to think before offering a small, playful grin.

“Alright.” You cross your arms together. “We’ll see.”

Perhaps… you aren’t as intimidating as he thinks.

Jun is staring at a sheep brain.

Not a real one𑁋a picture of one, specifically. It’s apparently very similar to the human brain, and the specimen he’s expected to dissect for the upcoming lab.

He stares at the image displayed on the large screen right before his eyes, feeling a strange mix of fascination and dread. The detailed structures and labels are overwhelming, each word swimming in and out of focus as he tries to absorb the information. It's not that he isn't interested𑁋on the contrary, there's a part of him that's genuinely curious about how it all works, and the other part of him is utterly disturbed.

You’re sitting next to him again, just like everyone else is sitting next to their partners, taking notes and even drawing a very rushed outline of the brain on your paper.

“We have to dissect that…?” Jun whispers under his breath, as if speaking any louder might bring the brain to life.

“Yep,” You reply, glancing over at Jun. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Jun attempts to stifle a groan, eyes going between the image on the screen and down to his near-empty notes. He can’t help but wonder how on earth he’s going to get through this without completely embarrassing himself.

Letting your eyes roam over Jun for a moment, the visible discomfort in the way he crosses his arms together and the furrow in his brow doesn’t escape your notice. Casually, you scoot your chair towards him a little bit, along with your notebook so that it’s settled in the space between the two of you with the outline of the brain clearly visible on the page. Your shoulder almost brushes against his.

“Here,” You say softly, tapping your pen on the page. “I’ve got the main structures labeled already. You can add them to your notes if you want. I can explain it to you in more detail when you come to tutoring tomorrow?”

Oh, that’s right. Tomorrow is the day you both were free and decided it was the day where Jun could stop by after classes end to have his first tutoring session with you.

“Yeah, uh, that would be great,” Jun responds quietly, peeking over at how neat and organised your notes appeared to be. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You nod, before soundlessly shuffling inside your bag and extending it out to Jun. “Granola bar?”

Jun glances at the granola bar being offered by you, its wrapper crinkling slightly as you hold it out to him. He smiles, a little lopsided but genuine, and takes the bar from you. The hesitation in his shoulders has deflated slightly than from the first time you proposed one to him.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Bro, are you going out on a date or what? You’re stinking up a storm here.” Soonyoung lets out a few dramatic coughs at the sudden sharp scent of Minghao’s perfume hitting his nose, followed by Chan behind him nearly gagging at the smell. Though obviously one would expect for the owner himself to be the one using it, he certainly didn’t expect for the culprit to be none other than Jun.

Okay, yes, he may have accidentally sprayed a shit ton of Minghao’s perfume on himself, which was a bit of an overkill. But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight after waking up from a nap between deciding to take a really quick shower or stealing his roommate’s expensive perfume.

“You think this is too much?” Jun asks unsurely.

Beside him, Chan rolls his eyes while clutching a bowl of ramen. “You smell like you’re trying to cover up a crime scene. It might suffocate someone. Where are you even going anyway?”

Jun clears his throat. “Tutoring𑁋”

“Tutoring?!” Soonyoung exclaims in surprise. “For which class?”

“Anatomy𑁋”

“Hell no,” Soonyoung crinkles his nose at the mention of anatomy. “You're telling me you’re getting all dolled up for a tutoring session on dissecting brains and guts? Are you trying to seduce the organs or something?”

Jun groans at his roommate’s words, shaking his head. But before he can say anything in response, Chan seems to beat him to it.

“Don’t you have this really strict TA in your class too? I’ve heard that they don’t even offer partial credit or crack a smile during lectures. Like, they’re just a machine, dude,” the youngest adds in.

It’s quite literally insane to hear that kind of description about you leave Chan’s mouth when all of his interactions with you have been nothing but short and sweet, to put it simply. Though he won’t deny he’s heard all those rumours spread around about you𑁋that you’re strict, and perhaps a bit intimidating. He’s had his fair share of moments where he felt overwhelmed by your grading and meticulous nature. Yet from what he’s seen of you so far, you’re passionate, friendly if anything, and your smile is… cute.

Jun only shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, they’re in my class, but I’m just trying to get my grade up before the year ends. I think I can handle them.”

Soonyoung huffs a breath, stepping up to Jun and giving him some sort of comforting pat on the back, almost like he feels bad for him.

“Well, good luck, dude,” he reassures him, though it hardly eases Jun’s nerves at all. “Don’t get crucified in there.”

As Jun wanders down the familiar hallway to the classroom, he finds his thoughts beginning to second-guess everything. What if he ultimately fails meeting your expectation at the end of the session? What if he struggles to fully grasp the material and ends up looking like an absolute fool in front of you by the time the real dissections roll around?

However, those thoughts are pushed away when the door to the classroom swings open before he has the opportunity to knock, with you standing on the other side. Your face seems to light up at the sight of him, and it makes Jun briefly think about what Soonyoung said earlier about you. Like… was he talking about the same person?

“Hey, you made it,” You greet him, stepping aside so he could walk in. “Let me just finish organising some things and we can start.”

Jun’s eyelashes bat together in curiosity as he watches you rummage through some papers, before deciding it's worth sitting down to wait for you. He places himself down an empty desk, fishing out his notebook and laptop and whatever he may need, though he doesn’t really know. By the time you’re making your way over to him, you set your stuff right next to his.

“Okay.” You let out a relieved breath, peering at him. “Where do you want to start?”

Oh, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet.

“Uh,” Jun stammers, fumbling for a moment, his mind suddenly drawing blanks. He quickly opens his notebook to the page where he had jotted down some half-baked notes during class and is staring back at him like a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Maybe… maybe we can start with what we’re going over in class right now? And just go down from there?”

“We can do that,” You agree without hesitation, leaning in more so that you were able to see his notes. Jun draws himself slightly back. “So, as you know, we’re going to have to be familiar with the parts and functions of the brain since it’s also part of the dissections. What I like to do is break it down into smaller sections and tackle each one individually. It might make the whole thing less overwhelming.”

Jun just nods, appreciating the way you’re making things more approachable.

You grab a blank sheet of paper and draw a quick, simple outline of the brain, labeling the major parts with clear, concise notes. “Let’s go over the basics𑁋the cerebrum, cerebellum, and brainstem. These are the main regions we need to understand before diving into all the nitty-gritty details. Is that okay?”

He nods again, moving back slightly closer so he can see what you’re drawing.

“The cerebrum is the largest part of the brain and is responsible for higher brain functions like thinking, reasoning, and sensory processing,” You continue, pointing to the relevant part of your drawing. “It’s divided into the left and right hemispheres, and each one controls the opposite side of the body.”

Jun watches as you explain, occasionally nodding to show he’s following along. There’s something calming about the way you speak𑁋gentle, but confident, filled with poise. He tries to shake off the thought, reminding himself that he’s here to study, not to admire the way your eyes light up when you speak so passionately about a topic as ridiculous and complex as the damn brain.

You’re so different from what people say. There’s no sign of the strict, no-nonsense TA everyone talks about.

“...and that’s why the frontal lobe is so important for decision-making and problem-solving. I like comparing it to, let’s say, a CEO,” You explain. “It’s where a lot of our executive functions happen. Think of it as the brain’s ‘boss’ making the big decisions and planning.”

Jun blinks for a moment, snapping back to attention, quickly jotting down a note to make it seem like he was paying attention. He actually was, sort of. Somehow he’s lucky enough for you to not notice him being distracted (or you do, and he’s the one who didn’t notice).

“Frontal lobe, right,” he mutters lowly, under his breath.

“The cerebellum is our little assistant to the CEO. It’s responsible for our movement, coordination, and balance,” You say, pointing to a spot on the sketch at the very back of the brain and above the brainstem. “Think of it as the brain’s quality control. It just makes sure that whatever movements we do are smooth and precise, so…”

Nope. He still can’t detect those rumours that paint you as some sort of cold, calculated, and harsh TA. He spots not a single one of those in your demeanour. Briefly, he wonders whether or not those rumours bother you, if they’ve ever bothered you or made you feel misunderstood. Swiftly, though, he brushes those thoughts away𑁋he’s more focused on you than the material at hand.

It’s hard not to look at you, in all honesty.

“Junhui?” Your voice pulls him back to reality.

“Huh?” he responds, a little too quickly.

You tilt your head slightly, a small, knowing smile on your lips. “I asked if you’re ready to move on to the brainstem, or do you want to go over the cerebellum again?”

“Oh, um… no, I’m good,” he says, feeling his face heat up slightly. He hopes you don’t notice how flustered he is. “Let’s move on.”

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and continue your explanation, turning your attention to the next section of the brain.

“The brainstem,” You begin, pointing to an area at the bottom of the brain with the pencil. “is like the brain's relay station. It connects the brain to the spinal cord and controls many of the body’s automatic functions, like breathing, heart rate, and digestion. Without it, our bodies wouldn't be able to function properly…”

Jun observes as you draw a line down the sketch, clearly marking the brainstem. He’s listening, or at least trying to, but his mind keeps drifting back to how comfortable this whole situation feels. He expected to be a nervous wreck, fumbling through explanations and possibly embarrassing himself in front of you. But instead, he finds himself oddly at ease, more focused on how you’re able to break down the complex information into something so much more digestible.

“Still with me?” You ask suddenly, looking up from your notes to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Jun answers unsurely, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. He offers a small smile, hoping it masks his earlier distraction.

A flicker of amusement flashes in your eyes, and there’s a warmth in your expression that puts Jun further at ease. “Okay, great. We can continue then.”

The rest of the session goes by surprisingly rather quickly. You guide Jun through the material, your explanations helping Jun absorb the information more effectively than the regular in-class lectures. It makes him think about how great you would be as a professor, or anything in the medical field. Everything just seems to flow out of you seamlessly as you discuss various brain functions and their relevance to anatomy and dissections.

As Jun is finishing up the last of some notes, you ask, “Would you mind if I write you a little sticky note? To tell you what to look over when you’re reviewing on your own?”

Jun looks up, a bit surprised but grateful. “That would be good, thank you.”

You stand up to retrieve a sticky note from Professor’s Lee desk, before returning back to Jun and writing down:

Review over neuroanatomy and its functions! •ᴗ•

Finally, you plaster the sticky note at the corner of the page in his notebook.

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as you both gather your belongings. It feels like a small victory for Jun𑁋he not only survived the session but actually, in a way, enjoyed it.

As you both stand up, ready to leave, you glance over at him.

“By the way, I don’t think you need all that perfume on,” You say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jun’s eyes widen, caught off-guard. Shit. “Oh, uh𑁋yeah, that…”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just… a little overwhelming. Maybe tone it down next time?”

Jun’s face flushes as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I uh… was rushing and just grabbed what I could find. I didn’t mean to overdo it.”

“You’re all good,” You reassure him, still smiling as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Just a little heads-up. So, anyway, for the next session…”

Next session? His jaw nearly drops to the floor at your casual mention of a next session.

“...I think I’ll try and set up a little lesson plan we can reference off of… probably review over the cardiovascular system…”

“You… You don’t have to do all that,” Jun interjects. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

You dismiss him off with a reassuring wave. “It’s no trouble. I think it’ll help to have a structured plan for us to follow. It’ll make sure we cover everything orderly.”

Jun zips his mouth shut and just nods in agreement, unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, biting it back when he hangs his head down to the ground. When he perks back up, he finds you over at Professor Lee’s desk, sorting through some papers before organising the stack and preparing to finally leave. He opens his mouth, but the words he wanted to say stick to his tongue.

“I’ll see you later?” Jun calls out to you instead, his voice bouncing off the walls of the lecture hall.

You glance up at him in acknowledgment. “I’ll see you later, Junhui.”

He takes a visible gulp.

“Jun,” he suddenly says, saying it as if he were correcting you, which in a way, he is, but it comes out a bit awkwardly. “You can call me just Jun, if you’d like.”

A wave of surprise washes over your features, before ultimately fading into a pleasant smile.

“Alright, Just Jun,” You reply, tilting your head slightly. “I’ll see you later.”

One could probably say you’re a party pooper. Not necessarily intentionally, but instead of filling up your college experience with going to parties and social events, you find yourself buried within pages of textbooks. Your weekends aren’t filled with the chaoticness of drinking and loosening up; rather, they consist of quiet study sessions in your room and creating new lecture material.

You’re not avoiding fun𑁋at least, that’s what you always tell yourself𑁋you’re just focused on achieving your academic goals.

It’s a routine carved ever since you were younger, your parents constantly instilling that education is the key to success, and you’ve taken that message to heart. From an early age, you learned to prioritise your studies over everything else. As you grew older, you carried that mindset with you, where you’ve become known among your peers as the diligent, dependable student and TA who always has their priorities straight.

Your schedule is precise, your assignments are always turned in on time, always prepared for every quiz and exam, and your grades reflect the countless hours you’ve spent studying. It’s a reputation you’re proud of, but it also comes with a certain level of pressure𑁋pressure to maintain those high standards, to never let yourself slip.

You sit back in the seat, satisfied after crafting a proper lesson plan and organising your materials for your next tutoring session. When you glance over at your planner to see who was coming in today, the name that you spot is𑁋

Knock.

You glance up from your planner and over to the door. “Come in!”

It takes a few moments for the door to swing in, and the tall figure that steps through is unmistakable𑁋light brown hair slightly fluffed out, a half-opened black backpack hanging on his shoulders, and an oversized hoodie that appeared way more comfortable than it needed to be.

“Jun?” You look at the time on your phone. “You’re here early.”

“Oh, yeah…” Jun runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I thought showing up early could give us some extra time, maybe. Unless… unless you’re still busy?”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Just give me a few minutes and then we can start?”

“Yeah. Take all the time that you need.”

Once again, it’s only the two of you in the lecture hall. He ponders if you’ve tutored any students before him today, hovering near you as he watches you sort through some papers and adjust your notes. The room is quiet except for the faint rustle of papers and the soft hum of the air conditioning. Jun can sense his curiosity growing within him, making him fidget with the strap of his backpack.

“So, uh… how long have you been a TA for Professor Lee?”

You pick your head up from your papers, fingers resting at the edge of the desk.

“Since the beginning of the year,” You reply. “I got recommended to him by some previous professors, and I guess I couldn’t say no to the opportunity.”

Jun nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Do you like it? Being a TA, I mean.”

You consider his question for a moment, feeling a bit reflective as you answer, “I do, actually. It’s hard but rewarding, you know? I get to help students understand the material better, and I learn a lot in the process too. It’s a good balance between teaching and learning, I would say.”

Jun takes in your words attentively, peeking his eyes toward you with an almost shy smile. There’s a quiet admiration in the way he looks at you that you don’t notice, as if he’s trying to understand how you manage to keep everything together so well. Then a moment of silence fills the space between you two, not uncomfortable, maybe a bit awkward on his end, but more contemplative.

Jun shifts this abominable weight pressing down on him from one foot to the other. He’s not used to being in situations like this𑁋alone with someone who seems so put together, so sure of themselves. It’s both inspiring and a little intimidating. The silence seems to stretch, and you can see the gears turning in his head, like he’s on the verge of saying something but can’t quite find the right words.

“I guess I wonder how you manage it all so well,” he remarks timidly. “You’re always so organised and… on top of things. I’m curious how you do it.”

You purse your lips together into a thin line and simply shrug your shoulders. “I’ve always had high expectations for myself growing up and I guess it’s carried into everything I do now. It’s become second nature, really.”

As Jun takes in your words, that sense of admiration seems to soften into a bit of worry. It’s amazing that you could handle so many responsibilities at once, but the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like a lot of stress and pressure to manage. He wonders if you ever feel overwhelmed or if it ever gets too much to handle at times.

You probably do𑁋you’re human, after all𑁋and a twinge of concern snakes up his spine as he thinks about.

“Anyway, hm… I was thinking about going over the cardiovascular system for this session. What do you say?” You ask him.

Jun snaps out of his thoughts, walking briskly over towards the desk to take a seat. “Oh, yeah. That sounds good.”

The session is just similar to last time: you begin by outlining the cardiovascular system, breaking it down into different sections just as you did with the brain, and using relatable analogies with associating each part with their functions.

“...so the heart has four chambers: the left and right atria plus the left and right ventricles,” You explain, pointing down to the drawing you made with the tip of your pencil. “The right side deals with deoxygenated blood, while the left side handles oxygenated blood. The heart’s valves make sure that blood flows in the correct direction. Think of it like… traffic signals.”

“Traffic signals…” Jun mutters to himself as he writes down notes. Knowing that this is all going on within his own body wraps around his mind uncomfortably.

As you continue explaining, there’s that light again that Jun detects in your eyes, as well as the subtle lift to your lips that makes your voice just a step higher. His gaze also follows your hands that you unknowingly maneuver when you talk, the movements graceful and expressive, like you’re bringing the material to life.

“Are you familiar with where all your pulse points are?”

Jun lifts a brow, thinking for a second, before taking a finger down to his wrist. “I think so. There’s one here… on the wrist…”

“The radial artery.”

“Radial artery. Yeah.” Then he drags the tip of his finger up to his inner elbow. “There’s also one here. The brachial artery, right?”

“You got it.”

He grins bashfully at that, though it’s quick to fade when he focuses again, pointing down to his leg. “There’s also two here. Femoral and… pop… Popliteal?”

“You’re right,” You confirm wholeheartedly, and Jun’s heart flutters in small victory.

Jun then brings his hand back up, using two fingers to point to a spot on his neck.

“And, uh… The one here on the neck. It’s…” He continues pressing down into his skin to find where he can feel his pulse, but your eyes on him is causing him to feel a bit self-conscious. “Uh…”

“The carotid artery. Right here.”

Before Jun has a chance to correct himself, you’re suddenly scooting closer to him in your chair, leaning in and extending an arm out towards him. The sudden contact of your fingers on the side of his neck makes his eyes widen and his breath to hitch.

Your fingers rest gently on the side of his neck, just below his jawline, and for a brief moment, the world outside of the lecture hall seems to disappear. The visible swallow of his Adam’s apple isn’t hard to miss as he tries to focus on anything but the sensation of your hand on his neck.

Heat washes over his face, and he swears to himself that you could most definitely feel the way his pulse is running marathons under your touch. All of a sudden his tongue goes dry, his limbs go numb, and the way you’re so close to him makes it hard for him to properly think straight, let alone form any sort of coherent response.

Your eyes meet for a singular millisecond, too quick that Jun could have possibly been imagining it.

Pulling your hand away, you clear your throat soundly. “Try it.”

It takes Jun a moment to register you were talking to him, and he tentatively replaces the spot where your fingers were at with his own.

“Right here?” he asks.

“Mhm.” Your gaze roams over his concentrated face. “Apply a bit of pressure. That’s the carotid artery doing its work.”

His pulse is certainly fast. The thought has him sinking into a pit of embarrassment.

But he only nods, keeping his voice steady as he says, “Yeah, I feel it.”

“So whenever you want to count your heart rate, this is one of the places you can check,” You instruct. “You can just press down on that spot and count the number of beats you feel in 15 seconds. Then, multiply that number by four, and you’ll have your heart rate in beats per minute.”

Jun attempts to listen to his heart rate, but the attentive look you have on your face as you watch him makes it really hard to properly count. So he chooses to let his hand fall back down. He wouldn’t be able to calculate it with you here with him anyway.

When the two of you meet eyes for the nth time, there’s a fleeting, almost electric moment of mutual awareness. None of you acknowledge it, yet it awkwardly lingers in the air. Warmth spreads across Jun’s chest, coupled with a nervous energy that makes his heart beat soar just a little faster.

You break the tension with an airy chuckle. “Are you ready to move on?”

Jun blinks a few times, shaking off whatever awkwardness swirling around him, and nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

By the time he gets back to his apartment later that evening and begins to unpack his things from his backpack, a small piece of pink paper flutters down to the floor like a feather, landing by his foot. It’s a sticky note, reading:

Good sesh today •ᴗ• Don’t forget to review!

“There’s no way I’m touching a brain.”

“Jun, you have to! You’ll be wearing gloves anyway𑁋”

“I cannot cut into a brain. That is gross,” Jun rebukes defensively, face scrunching up with stubborn refusal.

“Jun, dissections are really important for anatomy,” You clarify calmly. “It’s part of the learning process.”

“Yeah, I… I know,” he mumbles defeatedly, almost shameful to admit. “I’m not that good with, uh… dead things. Like, couldn’t we look at diagrams or pictures instead? They’re less… squishy.”

You smile amusedly at that, finding his squeamishness a bit endearing. But you straighten your posture and plaster on a reassuring look to your face.

“I understand that it’s not for everyone,” You respond, a comforting tone to your voice. “But getting hands-on experience is really valuable. It’s one thing to see it in a book, but actually being able to identify the structures in real life makes a big difference in how you understand the material.”

Jun still looks apprehensive, but your words bring a sparkle of determination to his eyes. The idea of cutting into something that used to be alive still makes his stomach turn and the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, but he knows that you’re right. When are you not right?

“It just feels illegal,” Jun admits uneasily, a shudder running through him at the thought. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“That’s what I’m here for, remember?” You lightly nudge him in the arm with your elbow, attempting to lighten the mood. “We’re partners, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” There’s some hesitation, his gaze dropping down to his shoes. He lowers his voice as he speaks, “I want to show you that I’m capable of doing something…”

“Then we’ll start off slow, make you become familiar with everything,” You reason gently. “I know you’re not the only one who feels queasy by it, but you’ll have to face it. Facing your fears can help in conquering them, you know.”

The corners of Jun’s lips tug up at that, mainly from the fact that you’re able to reassure him this effortlessly. He can’t tell if it’s exactly your words that eases up his nerves or if it’s simply your presence here with him right now thawing away the ice of his fears. Whatever it is, all he can really say is he likes knowing that you genuinely care.

And he likes knowing that you’re right next to him too.

“If I freak out,” he starts. “You’ll promise to help me out?”

Your lips draw into a thin line, a certain playfulness softening the features of your face.

“No promises, but𑁋”

“Hey!”

“Study what we discussed today and then I’ll consider it.” There’s still a twinge of tease to your words, but the edges are roughened with a touch of sincerity.

Jun just grins. How could anyone ever make up ridiculous rumours about you?

“Good game, man. Same time again next Saturday?”

Jun huffs out a winded breath, dabbing at the sweat that clings to his forehead with the edge of his shirt before taking a long chug out of the water bottle that Wonwoo tosses over to him.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then,” he replies exhaustedly, taking another tip of water, feeling his muscles aching from the game.

As his friends leave the basketball court, he starts to retrieve his own belongings, slinging his backpack and hoodie over his shoulder and starting his walk towards the bus stop so he could go back home. The sun has completely set at this point, the night sky now blanketing the city in a cool, comfortable darkness. The breeze that floats through the air relieves some of the tension in his body, cooling his skin after the intense game. Jun walks slowly, taking his time on the way to the bus stop, simply savouring the peacefulness of the evening.

He considers getting food for himself𑁋there’s a small convenience store that he spots at the corner of his eye, and his stomach rumbles at the thought.

He changes direction and heads toward the store, the faint jingling of the door chime greeting him as he steps inside. The store is a cozy, cluttered space with a mix of snacks, drinks, and other essentials. He decides on grabbing a cold drink and some instant ramen that he can heat up when he gets home. And after purchasing, he heads back outside and continues his way to the bus stop.

Tapping his bus card on the scanner, Jun makes his way toward the back of the bus and settles into a seat closest to the window, the seat right next to him vacant. The bus was mostly empty, but everyone else was spread out in their own seats either dozing off, listening to music, or staring out the window. It’s quite nice, he must say.

The sounds of him crumpling his bag fills the still air of the bus as he waits for the bus to move, but the hissing of the doors opening perks his attention up.

Out of all things, he certainly never expected to see the sight of you breathlessly climbing onto the bus, muttering apologies towards the bus driver as you scramble for your bus card in your wallet. Your backpack is about to slip off your shoulder, cheeks flushed from assuming all the running you did to get here, and a mask of tiredness that you wear on your face that isn’t hard to notice. Were you at campus? It’s almost ten at night.

And out of all things, he didn’t expect for you to come over to him among the many empty seats in the bus.

“Hey,” You greet him breathlessly, glancing down at the empty seat next to him. “Are you fine with me sitting here?”

Jun blinks, before speedily adjusting himself, forcing his body more into the seat so you would have all the room that you wanted. He gives you a nod.

Smiling faintly, you sit down right next to him, shoulder brushing against his. You settle your backpack on your lap and lean back a bit, finally allowing yourself to relax. The bus lurches, beginning to move forward. Jun lets his eyes wash over you.

“Did… you just come from campus?” he asks.

You laugh awkwardly at that. “Yeah, I… I was studying.”

“You study this late at night on campus?”

“I do.” It’s a bit funny admitting that, you don’t know why. “Sorta lost track of time, I guess.”

Jun keeps a fixed look on you, as if there was some anomaly within your words, but he knows you’re telling the truth. He just can’t believe that anyone would stay on campus so late, plus you look way too tired, like you could pass out any second. Some worry flows down his body.

“That sounds… exhausting,” he says, concern edging his voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You glance at him, eyes softening slightly. There’s something about him asking that tugs at your heart. “I’m fine. It’s not unusual for me to be up late studying. I’m used to it.”

Jun feels his fingers twitch around the bag in his grasp. “I see.”

You let your head fall slightly. “Thank you though.”

He faces you curiously. “For what?”

“Just…” For being here? For asking if I’m okay? “I don’t know. Thank you.”

He doesn’t know why you’re thanking him; if anything he should be the one thanking you.

“Oh.” A small smile appears on his lips. “You’re welcome.”

He feels weird. Not in a bad sense𑁋far from that, actually. It’s basically his first time ever interacting with you that isn’t on school grounds, and in a way right now, he isn’t the student and you’re not the TA. He’s simply Jun, and you are… well, you. You’re just two people sharing a late bus ride, and Jun is oddly grateful for the chance to see this side of you𑁋tired, a little vulnerable, but still yourself nonetheless.

The bus rumbles lightly. Silence swirling the air around the two of you. Jun glances at your profile, noticing how your eyes flutter shut for a brief second before snapping open again. His fingers twitch again, wanting to do something more𑁋maybe offer you his jacket, or ask if you need anything𑁋but he holds himself back.

The thought of pushing himself to exhaustion like that feels foreign. But he knows you well enough𑁋or at least, he’s seen you enough𑁋to know you’re driven, always working hard, sometimes too hard. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s okay to slow down.

“Y/N?” he calls out quietly.

You face him with a cute, sleepy look. “Hm?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

You giggle lazily at that, the sound unguarded and relaxed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “You can close your eyes. When’s your stop?”

Gazing at the window for a few moments, you take note of the familiar surroundings that the bus passes by. “It should be the next one.”

Before you can settle back into the seat, Jun quickly adds, suddenly feeling brave, “You can… lean on my shoulder if you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, then give him a drowsy, grateful smile. “I think I’d like that.”

With a sigh, you allow your head to rest against his shoulder, and Jun could only imagine how uncomfortable his own shoulder might be compared to a pillow, but he doesn’t mind, and neither do you as well𑁋at least he thinks you don’t.

Your eyes are closed when Jun leans down to sneak a glance at your face, your features softened with exhaustion. There’s the faintest sight of a smile to your lips, and it makes his own curve up slightly too. His heart stirs in his chest, all while attempting to fully compose himself so you wouldn’t be disturbed.

As his eyes drift back outside, he leans his own head on the window, watching the cityscape pass by. There’s fatigue crawling up his body too, but he forces himself to stay awake so that he knows when your stop is approaching. He casts glimpses down to you to make sure you’re still comfortable, but every time he looks at you, his heart seems to do a little jump, a little flutter in his chest.

Jun knows he shouldn’t hope for anything more than this moment, knows he shouldn’t let himself fall into dreams of what-ifs, but he can’t help it. Admitting to himself that he likes you is bizarre, almost too bold for him to fully accept. Yet here you are, leaning against him, breathing softly in your dazed state as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, he thinks, it could be.

You could tell there was something off about Jun today, and it seems to bother you a little more than you expect.

He just didn’t seem to be… paying attention. You would explain something to him, and he’d reply with a small hum of acknowledgment before drifting off into a bit of a daydreaming state. Perhaps his mind was clouded and it wasn’t your place to ask, or maybe he was just tired. Regardless, you knew that it wouldn’t get either of you progress through this tutoring session, especially when you’re trying to instruct him about what to expect for the dissections.

“Jun?” You snap your finger in front of his face, and he immediately perks up. “You got all that down?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, the probe…” He trails off, looking a bit lost. “Uh, can you repeat it?”

“The probe is used to explore and identify different anatomical structures,” You explain slowly. “But remember to be careful with it. Tissues are very delicate, so one wrong move could cause damage.”

You watch quietly as he writes down the notes, his head resting on his as if he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I saw you fall asleep today in class.”

Jun looks back up at you, eyes widening as if what he had done was some sort of crime. He suddenly appears more awake than ever.

“Crap, I… I’m sorry,” he mutters in apology, face flushing with embarrassment. “I knew you were lecturing since Professor Lee wasn’t here today, but I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t keep my eyes open that well. I’m really sorry.”

He could only assume the worst𑁋that you’re mad at him for falling asleep, when in reality he had stayed up late the night before to review over the material the two of you have covered so far during your sessions. But when your face softens into a look of understanding, he seems to relax. Just slightly.

“Jun, it’s fine, really. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” You reassure him gently. “Trust me, you’re not in trouble and I’m not mad.”

He swallows down the lump in your throat. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Like really sure?”

“One thousand percent.”

“I’m not convinced.” A sly grin spreads across Jun’s face. What a dork.

“Unfunny,” You huff, before taking a seat right next to him and flipping through the pages in your lesson plan.

Once again, Jun props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his hand, a playful smirk lingering on his face as he watches you. You feel his eyes on you.

“It sort of gave me a little glimpse into your life, you know.”

You glance up, intrigued. “Yeah? And what did you take from that?”

“That… I really cannot and will never be on your level of studying,” Jun admits sheepishly. He seems to crawl into himself a bit more as he continues hesitantly, “and, uh, made me admire you a little bit more too.”

You freeze at that, pausing mid-flipping through a page in your planner as his words float through the air. Admire… you? It wasn’t something you ever anticipated hearing from him𑁋ever anticipated to see him this forward𑁋especially not today when he seemed so out of it.

You clear your throat softly, trying to act nonchalant. “You admire me?”

Jun chuckles softly, the sound a little awkward as he tries to ease the tension. “Well, who wouldn’t?”

He’s probably digging himself into a bit of a hole right now, perhaps overstepping a small boundary of what was supposed to be just a casual tutoring session. But really, despite these sessions honestly really helping with understanding the material, he’s mainly here because… well… he gets to spend time with you.

“Sorry, I-I mean… I made this weird, didn’t I?” Jun swiftly corrects himself, face flushing deeper with each word that leaves him. “I guess I just want to thank you for pushing me to do better. I’ve always… kind of admired that about you for a while now.”

Even you momentarily forget what you wanted to discuss with him for the session, a surge of warmth shooting through your body. The only sounds you could hear right now are the branches outside hitting the window from the wind and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The room was quiet, filled with an awkward, yet comfortable tension that neither of you seemed to know how to break.

“I’m glad to hear that,” You tell him. “It means a lot that you feel that way.”

Relief and apprehension hugs around Jun, as if unsure whether he should say anything more or go back to tutoring. But he thinks he’s already said enough𑁋at this point his tired brain nearly made him confess his feelings, and that would be utterly stupid of him.

“But you should really learn how to rest,” he suddenly says firmly.

You laugh that off way too easily. “You know that I can’t𑁋”

“I know, but… come on, just rest for a little bit,” Jun insists. “At least for a few minutes.”

“You’re seriously telling me to rest while I’m here to tutor you?” You lift a brow, almost teasingly.

The way he only nods and gazes at you with pleading eyes almost resembling a cat stretching out for attention makes it almost impossible to resist. And you would hate to admit that yeah, maybe you do push yourself way too much, that all the strenuous effort you put into studying is now starting to take a noticeable toll on you. At the moment, rest does sound really nice.

“My friends and I are planning a hangout this weekend at my place, if you’d like to join us. You… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, or if you’re not into that kind of stuff,” Jun informs you sheepishly. “It’s not a lot of us too, but if you ever want to just… unwind, you know, you could stop by. We aren’t doing anything too wild, just a chill get-together. They’re all cool, I swear.”

You consider his offer. Again, you were never much of a party person nor ever gave a crap about that sort of stuff, but the thought of taking a break from your routine is a bit... enticing, to say the least.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you,” You say with a grateful smile, finally giving in. “Give me a few minutes to tidy up?”

Jun watches for a few moments as you quickly organise through your notes and gather up the loose papers that have accumulated on the table, standing up and heading to the front of the lecture hall to put away the rest of the materials that you won’t need for the session.

As he waits for you to finish, Jun sets aside his own stuff, folds his arms and places them on the table, slowly guiding his head to rest on top. He closes his eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest as much as his body craves.

By the time you get back, you catch a glimpse of Jun’s relaxed form in his seat, and your heart does a little flip in your chest. The corners of your lips tug up unknowingly into a soft smile as you settle into the seat cautiously next to him, feeling a wave of exhaustion hitting you all at once.

It’s rare that you let yourself go these days, but with Jun here, it seems easier to let your guard down, even for just a few minutes.

Without much thought you let your head rest gently on your own arms, finding yourself staring at the front lecture hall, before ultimately, moving your head so that you were facing Jun. You’ve never seen him this close before, drawn into his features for a moment or two𑁋over his closed eyes and the small moles that pepper his cheek and one particular spot above his lips, which were curled up slightly. Contentment warms you like a blanket as you let your eyes drift to a close.

Unbeknownst to you, Jun slowly peeks his eyes open, being met with the sight of you resting so peacefully and comfortably beside him. A sense of calm takes over the vast lecture hall as he simply watches you, even feeling brave enough to lightly brush a strand of hair away from your face with his finger, before quickly pulling back when he catches your nose scrunching a little in your sleep. His heart swells even more.

He decides on settling back into his own arms, taking one last glance at you before drifting back into light sleep.

“You’re way too smiley to be going to a tutoring session,” Chan points out as he catches Jun about to leave. “Isn’t it like your third time alone this week? Last week you went twice…”

Jun snorts annoyedly at that. “Yeah, and?”

“We’re just saying you’re way too happy to be going to tutoring, man,” Soonyoung continues on, an edge of suspicion to his words. “Did you find out the meaning of life? Figure out why our bodies cause us to shit and piss or why the earth goes around the sun?”

“I’d be happy to answer that question if you’re curious,” Jun states wryly.

Soonyoung scrunches his face and shakes his head. “Please don’t.”

His roommate only observes as Jun stuffs his feet into his Converse, which looked to be at the end of its life. Minghao comes out moments later, toothbrush in his mouth with bits of foam to the corners of his lips. Along with Soonyoung and Chan, the three of them watch as Jun finishes lacing up his shoes, his good mood unwavering.

“I think I have an answer to that question,” Minghao says, voice somewhat muffled.

Soonyoung faces the younger boy. “The piss or the earth one?”

“He has a crush,” Minghao states flatly, a subtle smirk creeping onto his face despite the toothbrush still dangling from his lips.

“A crush?” Soonyoung’s eyes widen as he exchanges a glance with Chan, the two of them looking like they were about to combust any second. “A crush on that scary TA?”

“They’re not scary!” Jun protests, face reddening hearing his own loud voice, secretly hoping to make some sort of quick escape before his friends could pry any further into his dry love life, but he knows he won’t be able to get them off his ass. “So what if I have a crush on them?”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops to the floor at that, before bursting into laughter. “‘So what’? You’re totally into them!” He starts bouncing on his toes, a grin stretching across his face. “You’re in loooove with the scary TA! This is gold.”

Jun could seriously strangle all of his roommates right now. He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the door, regretting opening his mouth. Was he seriously that obvious? “You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Bro, you’re blushing so hard right now,” Chan chimes in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Minghao chuckles, finally pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth. “It’s obvious. You don’t study like that for just anyone.”

Jun’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I𑁋okay, fine! Maybe I like them a little bit, but it’s not a big deal! I’m just trying to do well in class. Now, can I leave?”

It takes one last torturous minute of teasing before Jun shoots his roommates with annoyed looks and heads out of the apartment.

Normally at nine o’clock, you would most likely be in the campus library studying until your eyes go dry, or in your own place with textbooks sprawled over your bed. But this time, you find yourself right in front of the address Jun sent you𑁋his address, specifically.

You’d spent the past few days thinking about his invitation, and despite some initial hesitation, you may be looking forward to this little break from your routine. Because according to Jun from a text he sent you the night before along with the address: it’s what you deserve.

Your heart still does a little jump when you think about it still.

[09:08 | y/n] Hey Jun! I’m here by the way

Your phone vibrates right away.

[09:09 | just jun] WHAT omg

[09:09 | just jun] sorry i’m coming out right now!!!

There’s a figure that emerges from a door, waving to you from above. You give out a small wave as you start to make yourself comfortable on the front steps of the building. Jun hurries down the stairs, looking both relieved and a bit flustered as he reaches you.

“Hey, I…” His eyes roam over you from head-to-toe. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

You offer a tentative smile. “Well, I figured, you know? Thought it would be nice to stop by for a little bit. Plus you live closer than I thought.”

Jun’s face brightens, the relief in his own grin oozing its way into your heart, and he gestures for you to follow him back to his place.

Just as he promised, the gathering was quite small. Jun introduces you to his roommates𑁋Minghao, Soonyoung, and Chan are their names (Soonyoung and Chan look oddly more excited to see you, for some reason)𑁋and two others in his year. You recognise Wonwoo, who is a TA from the English department, and the other is Jihoon, whose name had been tossed around quite frequently during your time in university.

Overall, the vibes have been quite laid-back, and the apartment has been warm and inviting so far.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jun asks as he leads you towards the kitchen, where some food and snacks were sprawled across the counter. “There’s water, soda, and um… some alcohol too.”

Your eyes roam over the assortment on the counter, gaze lingering on the bottles of alcohol. For some reason the idea of relaxing and letting loose feels particularly appealing tonight, and you can hardly remember the last time you had a proper drink of… anything.

“I’ll take some alcohol,” You answer, suddenly feeling a bit adventurous; it even surprises Jun.

Jun pulls one of the bottles and pours you a generous amount before handing it to you, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours as you find yourself settling down in a seat near Wonwoo and Jihoon.

Soonyoung and Chan come into view a few minutes later, and they’re still looking at you as if you’ve come in with a second head.

“You’re not scary,” Chan claims randomly, scanning you up and down with his eyes closely.

You lift a brow and look behind you, thinking he was talking to someone, before turning back to him.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “Scary?”

Soonyoung takes a sip of his own drink before saying, “Yeah, dude, I mean… There used to be a lot of rumours spread about you being like, mean and stuff, you know? I’m talking about people saying you were super strict, always serious, and that if anyone messed up in class, you’d roast them alive.”

You almost want to laugh at that. Sure, you’ve heard plenty of those rumours before and never really let it get to you, or had the time to straight up dismiss them, but you didn’t think people were still clinging onto those thoughts nowadays.

“Did you expect me to show up with devil horns and a pitchfork?" You joke, finally allowing yourself to laugh, shaking your cup in amusement. “Wow, I didn’t realise I was so terrifying. Maybe I should start living up to it now.”

Soonyoung lets out a hearty laugh, almost choking on his drink. “Please, no! We’re all just barely surviving as it is.”

“Nah, you’re good as you are. If anything I’m glad to see that the stuff people have said aren’t true,” Chan adds in.

An exaggerated gasp leaves Soonyoung. “Oh my, God, wait! Does this mean we’re friends now?” His excitement is so over-the-top that you can’t help but laugh too.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You tease with a faint smirk, shrugging. “If you behave.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Soonyoung declares, grinning ear to ear as Chan gives him an enthusiastic high five. His face is already turning the slightest bit of red from the alcohol. “Jun, you’re in good hands!”

In the kitchen, you catch Jun gazing over his shoulder and towards his friends. And when his eyes land on you, he shoots you a brief smile before quickly taking his eyes away, but the tips of his ears being red doesn’t go unnoticed when he turns away.

As the night continues, you find yourself letting loose, more than you’ve ever done recently. You find yourself easily getting along with the lively atmosphere of Jun and all of his friends. You don’t really know how many drinks you’ve taken at this point in time, how many refills you’ve been offered, but the buzz you feel is pleasant and warm, your inhibitions slowly but surely melting away. Laughter tumbles out of you as if it was the most natural thing in the world, almost to the point you feel your chest physically ache.

Occasionally, from the side, Jun quietly watches you. He can feel his own mood lifting with every smile that finds its way on your face. It’s almost as if he’s looking at a completely different person𑁋someone entirely the opposite from the studious TA he’s been used to this entire time.

But the second he sees you stumble slightly when you come out from a bathroom break, a pang of worry hits him.

“You okay?” he asks you when you nearly run into him, making him circle his arms around you out of habit in case you might fall. However, you’re somehow so close to him that he can feel the warmth of you through his clothes. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re grinning lazily up at him, the effects of the alcohol clearly taking their toll.

“Oh, doing lovely, um…” You assure him, voice wobbly as you clear your throat. “The alcohol was awesome. I haven’t… I haven’t drank like this in such a long time. It feels sooooo nice.”

You nearly stumble into him again as you attempt to move past him, and he’s quick as the Flash to grab you by the shoulders, his hands squeezing tightly around your forearm.

“I think you should sit down, Y/N.”

“Bu-But I don’t want to!”

A playful pout spreads across your face as he carefully leads you back to the quiet kitchen, away from whatever version of charades the others have put on in the middle of the living room.

“You’ve drank too much,” Jun points out worriedly. “Do you want me to take you home? I can walk𑁋”

“What are you? My… my boss or something? I’m supposed to be the one in control here! I’m… I’m the one making the decisions, not you!” You protest, a weak, half-hearted attempt at establishing your authority as you knead the fabric of his shirt into your fists.

Did you have to be so cute when you’re drunk? Though Jun is fast to shake those thoughts away and focus more on making sure you’re okay, having to bite the bottom of his lip to conceal an incoming, endearing grin at your silly antics.

“Come on, let me get you some water and then I’ll take you home, okay?” Jun offers, and you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“But I am home,” You slur lowly, circling a finger in front of his face, close enough you may jab him in the eye. “I’m home here… with you…”

Jun seriously doesn’t know how he would be able to dismiss those words that left your mouth, even in your inebriated state. It doesn’t help that you’re also looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile, like the world is spinning and yet he’s the only one keeping you steady.

“Let’s go. I’m taking you home,” Jun says as he snatches up a bottle of water and slowly coaxes you towards the door, not before announcing to his friends as well, who all seem too drunk to even care anyway.

The second the cool air meets your skin and the cold water flows down your throat, you seem a little more lucid, but not entirely. You still clung an arm around Jun’s own arm, which was hanging loosely and awkwardly to the side, your steps a bit uneven as you walk down the street together.

Jun holds his breath every time your body knocks into his side, afraid you might lose balance, but you somehow manage to stay upright𑁋barely. The warmth of your arm wrapped around his doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, Y/N𑁋”

“Shhhhh,” You suddenly hiss, making Jun shut his mouth. “You’re too loud.”

Jun hangs his head down in slight guilt. “Sorry.”

“Hmm, isokay,” You mutter, tightening a grip on his and nearly causing Jun himself to stumble. “You know, you’re always so… nice. It’s kinda weird.”

Jun tilts his head, somewhat confused by your drunken logic. He glances at you, catching the way your cheeks are shaded with a rosy hue and the warmness to your hazy eyes.

“Weird?” he repeats curiously.

“Yeah…” You draw out the word clumsily, shifting your eyes towards him, gaze lingering on him a little longer than usual. “It’s like you’re not real sometimes.”

“You’re holding onto me.” Jun shakes his arm, and you still carry a tight grip on his arm, fingers digging lightly into the material of his sleeve. “I think I’m very real.”

“I know,” You mumble, scrunching your nose endearingly, as if you still don't believe him. “But you barely know me.”

There’s a few moments of contemplation that passes by between the two of you. Your steps have somehow managed to sync with each other, the streetlights above casting down a soft glow on the pavement below, and the quiet night feels oddly… intimate.

“Maybe.” Jun shrugs, voice low and soft. “But I like what I know so far.”

Now it’s your turn to grow silent, a wave of realisation cutting through your inebriated thoughts. Your grip goes from loose to tight on Jun’s arm, your chest and heart feeling heavier than it did moments ago, and it certainly was not because of the alcohol.

Your mind is practically aching with all these thoughts, aching with the urge to do something about it, and the way Jun’s side profile is illuminated under the streetlight doesn’t help the situation at all.

“It’s funny, because I… I would see you come into class. And…” You let out a giggle. “I don’t know. My first thought was always that you were cute. Hmm, maybe dreamy too? Yeah, dreamy… That’s a silly word.”

Before Jun can say anything to that, the words seem to tumble out of you.

“...I’d see you fall asleep in the back of the class, or come late to lecture, and I’d think you were cute seeing you so panicked… And when you asked me to tutor you, I was so happy. It’s just𑁋I-I don’t know.” A brief pause, before you continue, “Is this what liking someone is?”

Jun doesn’t notice how much his steps have faltered, his voice and own words getting caught somewhere between his throat and his heart. There’s a mix of panic, disbelief, and excitement flowing through him, almost too much he can’t quite process going from emotion to the other. However, how the hell does he respond when the person he’s been developing feelings for says something like that so openly?

“Shit, I’ve… I’ve made this weird, haven’t I?” You give yourself a light facepalm, before carding a hand through your hair. A yawn starts to leave you. “I’m just all over the place right now, I’m sorry…”

Jun wants to say something, needs to say something, but he stumbles over his words. “I… Y/N, I𑁋”

Before he can finish his sentence, you trip slightly, and he instinctively pulls you closer, catching you with both hands. A wholehearted round of laughter tumbles out of you, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, and for a split second, everything feels still. His heart races faster than ever.

He lets you take the lead on the way back to your apartment complex, feeling as if he had been walking on eggshells the entire time. The buzz of the alcohol running its laps through you has seemed to soften, and if anything, you’re more than ready to sink into your bed for the night. Although there’s comfortable quietness in the air now, Jun can’t stop replaying all the words you’ve said to him tonight alone.

Before he can fully process everything, you come to an abrupt stop just outside your building, turning to look at him.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his face as if you’re trying to commit everything to memory. Then, without thinking, you step up to him and press a kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, fleeting, the gesture so unexpected it sends a rush of heat flooding up his neck and straight to the tips of his ears. He’s practically on fire, at this point.

When you pull back, there’s a bashful smile playing at your lips. “Goodnight, Jun.”

You don’t think you can ever look at Jun in the eyes without wanting to sink into the ground, because each time he comes into view, it reminds you of the absolute idiot you put on show for him last weekend. It’s harder to pay attention when your hands seem to touch every given opportunity. You just have to make it through one last tutoring session before the big dissections later that week.

“So, um, we’ll use the forceps to clamp and separate through the tissues,” Jun explains, pointing towards the dissection guide displayed on the table, still feeling a tad bit queasy at the thought of it, even if the dissection pan was empty. “Then the scalpel will be used to cut on the incision lines we marked.”

“That’s right. You got it,” You say with a small smile, briefly casting a glance towards him, watching the way he adjusts the goggles on his face.

The two of you decided on running through the dissection for practice, focusing instead on the procedural steps and techniques. It’s been smooth-sailing so far𑁋Jun looks more confident and comfortable as he walks through each step𑁋and you’re positive that the actual lab will go well.

On the other hand, you both can’t deny the awkwardness thickening through the room, drifting within the crevices of even the most subtle interactions.

“Alright, so once we’ve done that, we’ll… uh, we’ll…” Jun’s voice trails off as he fumbles slightly with the scalpel, trying to decide between placing it on the tray or handing it to you, his gloved fingers brushing against yours again as you grab it from him.

“Sorry,” You both blurt out at the same time, voices mixing into one.

As you both share an embarrassed laugh, a few moments of silence follows. It seems to dissipate the tension in the air. Some of it, at least.

Jun clears his throat. “Y/N, I𑁋”

“It’s fine,” You assure calmly. “Let’s just keep going.”

“I… Okay.” His shoulders slump in a pit of defeat as he fixes his attention back down towards the task at hand. “Can you, uh… pass me the probe?”

You nod and hand it over to him, trying to attentively listen as he explains the function of the tool and how it would be used for the lab, adding any feedback along the way. You’re surprised at how easily you fall back into a comfortable rhythm, as if the moments from earlier had ceased to exist, as if that night and your stupidity didn’t happen, but only you both know about the unacknowledged elephant in the room.

The rest of the practice goes by without any more mishaps. The next thing you know, you’re pulling off your gloves and taking off your safety goggles as Jun sets the dissection tray away. By the time he returns, he’s surprised to see you already grabbing your belongings like you’re ready to leave.

Jun swallows down the nervous lump lodged in his throat. “Y/N, wait.”

You pause in the middle of stuffing some notebooks inside your backpack, already feeling the apprehension snaking up your spine as you face him.

“Can… Can we talk?” Jun asks hesitantly.

A sigh leaves you. “Look, that was really dumb of me, I get it. I shouldn’t have… kissed you on the cheek like that and said all those weird things. It was impulsive and I was drunk. I’m sorry, I should’ve known my limits, or maybe just have not come at all𑁋”

“I was really happy that you came,” Jun interrupts, a voice almost too loud in the quiet, empty lab room. He rubs his gloved hands together nervously. “And, um, the kiss... I liked it. It was, well… kind of nice.”

You really can’t tell if his words are making you feel any better or worse, if the hesitation on his side makes you want to sink more into the ground or feel a bit of hope. Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the warmth growing in your face as your fingers tighten around the strap of your backpack.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like you too, and I wanted to finally tell you that before you left my place. But then things got a little messy and it was a bit overwhelming, so I wanted to take you home because you looked like you were about to𑁋”

“Jun, just…” You chime in ruefully, clearly not wanting to relive your stupidity. “Go back a little. You like me too?”

Jun takes in a deep, slow breath.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I said that.”

The laughs that leave you two sound more freeing in a way, more effortless, like the thick, heavy fog that settled around the room has been lifted, and for the first time in days, everything is more clearer.

The carefree grin that Jun catches to your features nearly forces him to step up towards you, but he holds back. Instead, he thinks the sight of you looking so naturally happy is something he could cherish for a very, very long time.

“So, uh…” he starts, shooting a sheepish glance down at his shoes before meeting your gaze once more. “We’re okay?”

You only nod.

“We’re okay,” You confirm softly. “Maybe more than that.”

As you finish getting ready to leave, you turn back to Jun, who nearly drops the dissection pan in his hands.

“I have a meeting to go to right now,” You tell him. “But afterwards, I could… text you?”

His face brightens expectantly, attempting to keep the excitement coursing through him at bay. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Um… have a good meeting.”

He’s cute. And silly. And weird. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before you finally leave the lab room, you take a leap of faith and turn back around, heading straight towards Jun. He’s in the middle of taking off his goggles when you find yourself standing back in front of him, and a mischievous grin etches across your face. Jun takes a few steps back, his ass nearly stumbling into the table behind him.

“One more thing.” You reach up and to gently tug the goggles off his face, and the contact of your fingers to his hair has Jun bracing himself for doomsday. Your breath fans against his skin for a moment, and when you pull away, you’re holding up the goggles towards him. “You were wearing these upside down the entire time.”

Jun chokes on air, and you let out a giggle.

Shit.

Jun cannot focus right now.

The goggles feel uncomfortable on his face, the gloves make his skin feel clammy, the uncomfortable, pungent smell of formaldehyde fills the lab room and his nostrils. Not to mention that there’s a goddamn sheep brain sitting on the metal pan in front of him.

Perhaps he can call it quits now𑁋take the zero for the lab and run for the hills, drop out of university, become a nomad in the countryside and never have to touch any sort of assignment again. In his mind right before the dissection starts, it really doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all…

“Jun?”

He snaps his eyes back at you. You’re wearing your own pair of gloves and goggles, positioning the dissection tools on the table, eyebrows raised in worry.

“Are you good? We’re about to start,” You tell him. “You look a little pale.”

He blinks a few times, trying to compose and mentally ready himself, acting like he hasn’t just spent the last few minutes imagining an escape plan abandoning all forms of education. “Yeah, I… I’m good.”

“You good to start?” You ask, and the concern he senses in your voice makes his heart soften. “Or do you want me to take over first?’

There’s that offer again, the one he knows he should probably accept for the sake of his sanity, but there’s also a part of him that doesn’t want to back out now. Not when he’s finally managed to clear the air between the two of you, when things are more comfortable than they’ve been in weeks.

Jun exhales, shaking the tenseness out of his body. This is it. Glancing around the room, he notices that other students have already started their dissections with ease. He looks down at the sheep brain again, feeling that queasiness rising, but just your presence right next to him seems to settle down his nerves way more than it should.

He steels himself, trying to cling to that feeling instead of the growing discomfort in his stomach. He can do this. It’s just a brain. A sheep brain, he reminds himself, as if that makes it any better.

Letting out one last breath for good measure, he reaches for the scalpel.

“I’m good,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Let’s do this.”

His hand quivers as he leans in towards the sheep brain, its colour slightly pinkish and grey. His nose crinkles the closer he gets to it, and the second he lightly grazes the scalpel along the surface of the brain, he can’t help but wince. At his side, he feels your shoulder make contact with his, and helps ground him a little more.

Narrowing his eyes, he focuses on making a precise incision straight down the middle of the brain𑁋the medial longitudinal fissure, he recalls𑁋his hand trembling slightly as he draws the scalpel down. The smell of formaldehyde grows stronger as he slices through the tissue, and the somewhat gelatinous texture that the brain has is incredibly off-putting.

When he finally finishes, you help part the brain in half, and Jun’s eyes widen in awe at how visible the structures are.

“You did pretty well.” You send an encouraging smile Jun’s way, taking the probe in your hand and motioning towards the exposed structures. “See? Look at that. You can see all the parts clearly.”

Jun takes a leap of faith and points to a particular part. “That’s… the thalamus there, right? And the hypothalamus is right below it.”

You nod proudly. “You got it. And this section right here?”

“The… pons? And then, uh… Oh! The medulla oblongata. Then the spinal cord starts beneath it.”

“Yep. Here?”

“The cerebellum!”

Your own heart seems to swell with every step up his confidence goes, whatever discomfort he was initially feeling begins to be melted away under the warmth of your praise. You bring your eyes up from the brain, letting it roam over his side profile, taking in the way the goggles make his hair stick out in odd angles, the curve of his jaw as he tilts his head slightly, brows furrowed in concentration.

As Jun pinpoints another structure on the brain, he faces toward you for confirmation, only to be met with your eyes already on him. He opens his mouth to say something, before slowly shutting it, and for a split second, he forgets about the question he was about to ask, the lab, everything else.

“Did I get it right?” Jun questions, feeling the confidence flowing through him falter under your thoughtful expression. “This is the sulcus? And the gyrus…”

You lower your attention back down to the sheep brain, realising he was pointing to a spot with the probe.

“Hm, just…” You start, leaning in a bit closer to examine where he’s pointing to. With a sly smirk, you reach over to grasp his wrist lightly, slowly guiding his hand more accurately with the probe. Your warmth slips teasingly under his skin. “The sulcus is the little groove right here, and the gyrus is the ridge surrounding it. See it?”

Jun swears you’re doing this on purpose, and whatever it is, it’s working.

“Got it,” he mumbles, hoping you won’t be able to see the flush to his cheeks under the goggles. His eyes flicker between the brain and your face, noting the playful glint in your pupils that certainly isn’t from the fluorescent lighting of the lab room. “I see it now. Thanks.”

You let go of his wrist, still wearing that mischievous look at your lips, though it fades into something more genuine now. “You’re doing good, you know.”

Relief hits him from your words. He does feel way more comfortable, the entire lab becoming less daunting all because you were simply right here next to him. His mind momentarily flashes back to all what you’ve done for him𑁋from the tutoring, to the way you’ve been nothing but supportive and patient with him, before it all circles back to the mutual fondness blooming its way within the crevices of your hearts together.

He likes you, and you like him back. Jun still has no idea how this came to be, because he used to think he had no such chance with you. Yet now, he has the freedom to think about where he wants to take you on your first date.

The rest of the dissection goes by with ease. Slowly but surely, other students begin to clean up their workspace and submit their lab reports to Professor Lee, their tasks winding down as the lab session comes to a close. The lab starts to empty out as the minutes tick by, and it isn’t long until there’s just a few more students left𑁋you and Jun included.

“Here, I’ll finish up here,” You tell him, taking the brain into your hands without hesitation and placing it into a sealed bag for disposal later on. Then you take the dissection tools into your hands and walk off towards the sink to wash them, leaving Jun hanging in a bit of a daze.

“I… What can I do then?” he asks, wanting to contribute still.

You turn back to him, humming in contemplation.

“Let’s see… Disinfect the table, take off your gloves and goggles, and then…” Your lips quirk up again. “Just stand there and look cute. I’ll handle the rest.”

The tips of his ears flush with heat as you casually sidle away from him and towards the sink. Jun shakes away the flutters in his stomach, though the corners of his lips tugs upwards as he works on cleaning up the table.

Jun is already waiting by the door with his backpack on his shoulders as you finish up some tasks with Professor Lee. Once you get the signal that you’re free to leave, Jun feels the excitement pool down to his feet, a sense of accomplishment knowing that he was able to get through the one lab he dreaded most, and finished the class with a passing grade.

As you both exit the building, Jun pauses in his place, watching you continue to walk a bit without him.

“I owe you a date, you know,” he calls out to you with determination, though a pinch of nervousness still lingers.

You turn back to him curiously, and the way the sun catches on your face makes you appear more radiant above anything else. “A date, you say?”

“Yeah, I…” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Before all of this, I told you I would owe you something for helping me, and well…” He lets his shoulder relax. “I want to take you on a date.”

Jun watches the way a bunch of emotions seem to morph among your face. Even with knowing how you feel for him, he still braces himself for a different kind of response.

Biting at the bottom of your lip, you step back up to him, and before he could fully process what’s happening, you answer him with a quick, affectionate kiss to his cheek. Right at the corner of his lips, to be specific. Then you reach down and grip his wrist, tugging him gently towards you.

“You’re on,” You challenge, a playful sparkle to your eyes. “Let’s get going.”

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ashthesalamipiece · 1 month ago

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Could we get a part 2 to the unapologetically inappropriate reader? She's hilarious and so is her and Katsuki 😭

"Mouth as a menence, heart as a Marshmallow"

Part two of this story

It had been three days.

Three. Long. Days.

And you still hadn’t recovered.

You’d replayed the moment in your head approximately 472 times. Bakugou’s voice in your ear, the way he said it like a threat and a promise, the smirk—the smirk—as he walked away while your soul ascended to another plane.

You, the queen of chaos. You, the flirt without fear. You, the undefeated innuendo champion.

You’d been obliterated.

“Still thinking about it?” Mina asked, flopping onto your bed with a knowing grin.

You buried your face in a pillow. “I haven’t known peace since.”

“You glitched like a damn NPC,” Kaminari laughed from your doorway. “I thought we’d have to reboot you.”

“I wish someone would reboot me,” you groaned. “Or erase my memory. Just the last five minutes of that night. Please.”

“Why?” Jirou snorted. “You’ve said worse to him before.”

“Yeah, but he’s never responded like that before!” you sat up, scandalized. “That wasn’t a comeback. That was a declaration of war. On my sanity.”

“On your thirst,” Mina corrected, and you launched a pillow at her face.

But it didn’t matter how much they teased you—because the real problem was, now you couldn’t look Bakugou in the eye.

Every time he walked into a room, your brain screamed ‘THERE HE IS. THE MAN. THE VOICE. THE REASON YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE SPIKED.’

And the worst part? He knew.

He knew, and he was enjoying it.

You caught him smirking every time you stuttered, avoided eye contact, or tripped over your own feet like your bones had melted.

You had to retaliate.

You had to reclaim your crown.

So that night, you bided your time. Waited for the perfect moment. The dorms were loud as usual—Kirishima arm-wrestling Sero, Kaminari singing badly, Todoroki quietly judging from the corner.

And then Bakugou walked in.

Game time.

You stood up, casually sauntered over to him, heart pounding like a drumline.

He raised a brow, clearly amused. “What?”

You gave him your best smirk, voice syrup-sweet. “Just wondering... if your explosions are proportional to your stamina.”

Silence.

Everyone froze.

It was a bold move. A reckless move.

But you weren’t done.

You leaned in, whispering, “You know... for science.”

The room exploded.

Kaminari screamed. “SHE’S BACK!”

Mina was on the floor, cackling. “OH MY GOD, THIS IS A HEALTH HAZARD.”

Even Iida dropped his water bottle.

Bakugou?

He didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, closing the distance between you, eyes locked with yours.

He smirked again. Slowly.

And said, “You volunteering to run the test?”

Boom.

You died.

Again.

Kirishima yelled, “WE NEED A MEDIC!”

Todoroki, bless him, actually fanned you with a notebook.

And you?

You just stood there.

Brain fried.

Heart gone.

Soul: permanently evacuated.

You finally whispered, “...I wasn’t ready again.”

And once more, the dorms descended into absolute chaos.

#my hero academia #reader #mha x reader #bhna #fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #funny

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livwritesstuff · 10 months ago

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Steve wants it on record that there isn’t much he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with his kids.

The one exception to this is shopping. Generally speaking, Steve can’t really handle shopping anymore (migraines – or, rather, the way shopping is a pretty consistent trigger for migraines).

Eddie handles most of the shopping – he does the groceries every week, he runs most of the errands the pop up, he gets dragged to the mall with their daughters on the weekends.

There’s one exception to that exception though, and it’s back-to-school shopping.

Steve makes an exception for back-to-school shopping for a couple reasons.

For one – memories. The passing of time is a cruel thing, as Eddie loves to remind him, and they only get so many years to set their kids loose in Walmart, to watch them pick out a new lunchbox and water bottle, to see which novelty folders Robbie and Moe will fight over this year, and what color notebooks they’ll claim. This year in particular, Moe is starting fifth grade, her last year before she heads off to middle school, and Hazel is starting kindergarten. Obviously, Steve will risk a migraine if it means getting to watch his daughters back-to-school shop for the one year ever all three of them will be at the same school together.

The second reason Steve makes an exception for back-to-school shopping – Eddie. Steve loves Eddie. So much. That being said, his judgment can be a little questionable, which is fine most of the time because Steve is used to it. His kids’ teachers though…not so much, and they’ve also got sixteen to twenty other hellions to manage, so for their sake someone’s gotta be there on these shopping trips to lay down the law when Walmart decides slap-bracelet rulers are a totally fine thing to equip elementary-schoolers with.

“No,” Steve told Robbie simply, his arms crossed as he leaned against a shelf filled with notebooks.

“Why?” she countered, still holding up the purple “ruler”.

Moe helpfully decided to smack Robbie’s bare arm with her own pink bracelet-ruler. Robbie yelped as Moe gave a maniacal laugh and yanked the ruler back.

“That’s why,” Steve replied, “Neither of you need rulers this year, and even if you did, I’m not doing that to your teachers. Let’s move on please.”

Obviously, neither Moe nor Robbie gave any indication that they’d be moving on, which is fine. He’d rather they get over the novelty of the damn things here, so he turns his attention to where Eddie was sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor trying to convince Hazel, their rising kindergartener, that she doesn’t need a locker shelf.

“There’s no lockers in kindergarten, my girl,” he was telling her, “No lockers at all until middle school.”

“But what if I just get it and then we see if maybe there’s lockers?” Hazel asked, her lower lip starting to tremble.

“I promise we’ll get you a locker shelf when you start middle school,” Eddie replied, easing the pink metal locker shelf out of her hands, “But that’s six years away. Think of all the ways locker technology will improve in six years.”

Hazel nodded.

“We could be looking at a whole new world, Hazy-Jay.”

Again, Hazel nods, though she does give the shelf one last mournful look as Eddie gets to his feet and leads her over to the wall of Crayola paraphernalia.

Steve turns back to the older two in time to hear Moe say, “Do you think it’d wrap around your head if I hit you hard enough?”

“Okay, that’s a no.”

#steve’s one victory of the day was that no slap-bracelet rulers were purchased. he’s a hero.#liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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reiinaissance · 1 month ago

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STEP UP YOUR GAME ft. arataki itto (genshin impact) x female! reader

⟢ summary Arataki Itto, one of the troublemakers in your university, needed to pass his test in his failing subject to be able to play this year's football game. So he begged for you, the smartest girl in his class, to tutor him. You never thought it would lead to something more...

⟢ content warnings nsfw, modern! university! alternative universe, sub! reader, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, size kink, unprotected. minors do not interact.

⟢ word count 1.5k

reupload from my old account ☻

archive of our own

"No."

Arataki Itto almost dropped to his knees. No? "W-What?"

"I won't tutor you."

"Why?!"

You told yourself you wouldn't get involved with the Arataki Gang who were notorious on the campus for being... well... troublemakers. Kuki Shinobu was an exception, though, because she's your best friend. And she mostly stayed out of trouble. You never knew how she joined them, it just happened.

"I just... I have a lot of stuff to do this week." You said, opening your notebook to read the lecture for today's class.

You heard Itto sighing sadly, and you almost felt bad. Almost. "You don't have time to tutor me this week? Even just for an hour?" When you didn't respond, he clasped his hands in front of you, "Please! I'll do anything! I really have to pass this subject to be able to play the upcoming game!"

Okay, you lied. You felt bad.

Shinobu sometimes drags you to one of Itto's football games, and he was a good player. It would really be a waste for the team if he doesn't get to play in his upcoming game.

...You know what?

Clicking your tongue, you nodded. "Fine. Every 8 p.m. on weekdays at starting tomorrow."

He pumped his fist up in the air, "Woo-hoo! I'll see you tomorrow... Uh..." You tilted your head. "What's your name again?"

All you have to do is to do your best in tutoring Arataki Itto and hope to God he does well in the test. So much for not wanting to be involved with the Arataki Gang.

"This is the third time I've explained this, Itto." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You've been in his dorm for almost 2 hours now, and you had to be back in your dorm by 11 p.m.

"Wait, wait!" Itto shook his head vigorously. "Just explain to me one more time and I'm sure I can understand it!"

You sighed at the pouting look he gave you and stood up to get your water bottle from the table. "So why didn't you ask Kujou Sara to tutor you instead? She's smart." You asked, and Itto shuddered at the mention of her name. "...What's wrong with Sara?"

"Are you seriously asking me that...?! She's literally the most difficult person to get along with!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking back to the bed. "No she's not. I get along with her."

"Hah, right. Of course, smart people get along." Rolling your eyes at his remark, you continued teaching the math problem to him. After a few more explaining, he got the problem right.

"Hey, that's correct! Good job." You flashed him a small smile, and you could've sworn his eyes twinkled with joy.

"Really?!" Without any warning, he hugged you, catching you off-guard. "I'll make sure to focus really hard so I can get all 'em right!"

You get that he was happy about it... but...

You never thought his abs would be that rock-hard. Your clothed breasts were pressed up against his clothed abs, and you felt a weird sensation in your—

Y/N! Snap out of it!

"Uhh, you there?" Itto pulled away, looking at you with a concerned look, then his eyes widened. "Oh— Oh. Sorry, it's just when I'm happy I hug... people. Like when we win games, you know? I hug my teammates and I'm sorry if I—"

"It's fine." You chuckled, and there was an awkward silence until you spoke again. "Um, let's move on."

He nodded and answered the next question. Wrong.

"No, no, it's like this..."

And before you knew it, it was already 11 p.m.

“Thank you… really! I already think I’m gonna ace this test ‘cause of you!” Itto flashed a handsome smile, “Be safe on the way to your dorm, alright?”

You returned the smile, waving at him. “I will, bye.” Itto was about to close the door but you stopped him when you heard footsteps. “Wait.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

You completely forgot someone monitors the dormitories as soon as it is 11 p.m!

Itto pulled you into his room and closed the door. You leaned back on the door in distress, “Oh, I forgot about the dorm monitor. You can’t go back to your dorm any time soon…”

“No shit.” You sighed and looked up at him.

He looks… attractive. You were so focused on tutoring him that you never realized he was this attractive.

“Y/N?”

You came back to your senses, “Hmm?”

“I said, you can stay here till the monitor is gone. They’re usually gone by 12 a.m.”

You cleared your throat, nodding, “…Yeah… yeah.”

He chuckled, “Y/N? You okay?”

You nodded once again, “I am…”

“Then… why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“…Like what?”

“Like that.”

Itto was looking at you, and you couldn’t help but gulp at the way he was gazing at you. Archons… he looked so hot. What the hell? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You walked past him and sat on the bed. “Guess I’ll have to wait… like 30 minutes or so.”

He turned, a smile on his face, “Wanna do something fun to kill time?”

All you could think about was him fucking you senselessly, trying to keep quiet so you don’t wake the others.

“Sure. I’ll tutor you some more.”

Tutor, my ass.

You were on all fours on Itto’s bed, his dick in your mouth as he stood in front of you. You wrapped your hand around the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit into your mouth, and looked up at him. He was biting his lip, grunting quietly.

“Archons, Y/N… Who knew you could suck dick so good?”

You didn’t know how it got to this point — You were tutoring him once again, but you couldn’t focus. You kept stuttering and Itto couldn’t understand you. But then seeing his hard-on… You looked up at him and he was gazing at you…

You both couldn’t resist each other.

Choking on his cock, he gripped onto your hair, hissing, “Fuck…”

Then he pulled your head away, the string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of his cock. You looked up at him, breathing out, “Fuck me.”

Itto was still panting, and the side of his mouth curled upwards. “Yeah? You gonna be quiet while I fuck you?”

“Mhm… Please…” You whimpered, then gasped when he pulled you up and then pushed you down onto the bed.

He kissed your neck, his hand reaching for your wet clit and rubbing it. You moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his hand then whining when his hand pulled away from you.

"J-Just the tip, first..." You whispered and bit your lip, feeling the head gliding along your clit. "It won't fi— Agh!"

Itto covered your mouth with his hand, growling quietly as he carefully thrust into you. "I'll make it fit, don't worry."

Suddenly, footsteps were heard outside the room. You looked at Itto as he covered your mouth, and your eyes widened when he moved against you. “Shh. Don’t make a sound…” He whispered as removed his hand from your mouth and kissed you.

You couldn't help but clench around him and he groaned, pushing deeper into you. You moaned through the kiss as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Mhhf… O-Oh…”

He's so big that you could feel his tip touching your cervix, hitting it with every thrust he does. He pulled away from your lips as he fucked you harder, your moans coming out as silent gasps.

"Fuck, baby..." Itto whispered, gritting his teeth. "You like that? Does it feel good?"

You could only nod your head in response, afraid to talk because you might moan too loud. He let out a breathy laugh as he continued pounding deeper into you.

Tears filled up your eyes from the pleasure and you could feel the knot on your stomach as Itto went faster. "Mm— 'm gonna...!"

"Shhh, do it for me, baby. Come on."

Your body shook as your orgasm washed over you. He grunted once more, biting into your neck softly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." And he finally pulled out, cumming on your stomach, "Fuck…"

The sight of your almost-passed-out figure on his bed almost made him hard once again, but he resisted himself. He fell next to you, letting out a contented sigh.

You closed your eyes, still panting. "I was only gonna tutor you. Not fuck you."

Itto laughed, caressing your thighs. "Too bad."

"So you're telling me you weren't at your dorm last night because you were at Itto's?" Shinobu gave you a disapproved look. You smiled sheepishly.

"...Look, it just happened, okay? What were we supposed to do while waiting for the monitor?"

Shinobu sighed. "So much for telling yourself to not get involved with the Arataki Gang."

#♡.ᐟ writing #arataki itto #genshin arataki #arataki itto x reader #arataki itto smut #itto smut #itto #genshin impact itto #genshin itto #itto x reader #itto x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader

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milkoomi · 5 months ago

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it-girl school bag essentials. ᥫ᭡

a lot of us spend more time at school than we do at our own homes, so we have to make sure our bags our packed with everything we need! here’s a list of some essentials to have in your school bag!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — basics

notebooks

textbooks

folders

planner

pens/pencils/highlighters

pencil case

no bag’s complete without the bare minimum! be sure you have any and all your school supplies packed and ready to go!

୨ৎ — electronics

ipad/tablet

tablet pencil/stylus

laptop

chargers (phone, tablet, & laptop)

headphones

electronics case (ipad/tablet/laptop)

chargers case

୨ৎ — personal hygiene

deodorant

body spray/perfume

hand sanitizer

lotion

feminine hygiene products (pads/tampons)

mint/gum

୨ৎ — miscellaneous essentials

disinfecting wipes

tide to-go pen

extra hair ties/clips

lip balm/gloss (be sure your lip balm has spf!)

oil blotting sheets

kleenex

compact mirror

hair brush/comb

mini first-aid kit (bandaids, pain meds, allergy meds, eyedrops, antibacterial spray/cream for cuts/wounds, hydrocortisone/anti-itch cream)

refillable water bottle

snacks

final notes —

every it-girl/person is always prepared no matter where they go, and that means even to school! be that person that’s always got everything on-hand. it’s always better be over-prepared than have those “dang it, i left it at home” moments!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

#milkoomis #girlblogger #girlblogging #it girl #that girl #becoming that girl #it girl tips #school tips #romanticizing school #school essentials #it girl energy #girl blog aesthetic #bag essentials

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novascharms · 5 months ago

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teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 6.1 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

nineteen

saturday, march 1st

"okay, ready?" ivy’s voice broke the quiet of the library, her sharp gaze narrowing as she held up the next flashcard. you nodded, settling your hands neatly in your lap, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders.

"main causes of the american revolution?" she asked, her tone brisk but encouraging.

"taxation without representation, british military presence, proclamation of 1763, and acts like the stamp act and tea act," you rattled off, your voice low but steady. she gave a quick nod, flipping to the next card with a satisfied mutter.

"what was the significance of the monroe doctrine?"

"it stated that european powers should not interfere in the western hemisphere and established u.s. influence in the americas," you answered, nodding slightly as if to confirm your own words. ivy hummed in approval, her eyes scanning the card before moving on.

"what triggered the united states’ entry into world war one?" she asked, her voice laced with expectation.

you opened your mouth, ready to reply, but the answer danced just out of reach. blinking, you sifted through your mental notes, coming up blank. "the…" you hesitated, brows furrowing as you scrambled to connect the dots. "the sinking of the lusitania?" you ventured, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

ivy nodded, her expression urging you on.

"oh!" the memory clicked into place. "the unrestricted submarine warfare by germany and the zimmerman telegram!" you finished with a triumphant grin.

"ten out of ten," ivy whispered, punching the air subtly in celebration.

"moreee! i need to get this information printed into my brain," you pleaded, leaning forward with an exaggerated look.

ivy gave you a pointed look, crossing her arms. "we’ve been at this since one, and it’s almost six," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a laugh. "i think we could both use a break."

“fine,” you reluctantly agree.

she stood, grabbing her bottle off the table. "i’m gonna refill this. we’ll pick it back up in five, okay?"

you sighed but nodded, watching as she walked toward the water fountain. the moment she was out of sight, you slid your notebook aside and switched over to your imessage conversation with rafe, your lips curving into a soft smile as you read over his last message.

a couple of seconds after you send your last text, your phone lights up with a facetime call from rafe. the ringing feels louder in the quiet library, and you scramble to answer before ivy—or worse, the librarian—shoots you a glare. the call connects, and the screen fills with rafe sitting in his car, the faint golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. he’s fiddling with his phone, adjusting it against the dashboard, the camera wobbling slightly before he settles it.

“—coming back?” a voice crackles faintly in the background, pulling rafe’s attention toward his window. his brow furrows, lips twitching in a mix of amusement and confusion.

“dude, you sound drunk,” rafe says with a laugh, shaking his head as he adjusts his seatbelt. his smile tugs at the corner of his lips, easy and familiar.

“i didn’t drink!” the voice protests indignantly, and rafe’s face twists with exaggerated disbelief as he glances toward the source.

“kelce,” he drawls, his tone dripping with mockery, “you had four corona lights.”

“there’s alcohol in corona lights?” kelce’s voice is so genuinely confused that you can’t help but snort quietly, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.

rafe hears it and turns to the camera, his grin widening at the sight of you laughing. his gaze lingers for a beat longer before he shakes his head and looks back at kelce. “kelce, back up. i’m about to drive off, and i actually can’t deal with you right now.”

“i thought they called it ‘light’ because there’s no alcohol in it!” kelce yells, his tone insistent, and rafe groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“you’re an idiot,” rafe mutters, throwing the car into reverse as kelce finally stumbles out of the way.

“are you sure he should be in our grade?” you tease, watching as rafe navigates out of the parking lot, the golden hour light catching in his hair and softening the edges of his jawline.

“no,” rafe deadpans, his eyes flicking toward the camera briefly. “i’m really not.”

your grin widens as you reach up to undo your claw clip, letting your hair fall loose around your shoulders. you shake it out slightly, the strands catching the soft light spilling through the windows. rafe’s gaze flickers back to the screen for a split second, his expression softening as his eyes follow the motion, but he quickly refocuses on the road ahead.

“what are you craving?” he asks casually, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped over the gear shift.

“what’s around?” you counter, leaning back in your chair, your voice playful as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

his eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressing into a stubborn line. “what are you craving?” he repeats, his tone insistent, though there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his expression.

“fine,” you relent with an exaggerated sigh, though a smile creeps onto your face. “chipotle? like, a bowl with rice, guac, chicken...” you lean your chin on your hand, practically drooling at the thought.

rafe hums, glancing at the GPS on his dash. “there’s one close. i could grab it and be at the library in, like, half an hour—assuming they don’t take forever.”

“perfect,” you murmur, already mentally calculating how much more studying you and ivy could squeeze in before the food arrived.

a few quiet moments pass, the hum of the car filling the space before rafe leans back in his seat at a red light. “so,” he starts, his voice casual but with a note of deliberation. “i was just with the boys, and they wanna come by mine later. my dad got this new grill, and they’re all obsessed with trying it out. my parents are gone for the weekend, and the girls are coming, too. you should come.”

the suggestion hangs in the air for a moment, and your chest tightens, a swirl of emotions tumbling through you. you hadn’t talked about the bonfire yet—the memory of him with adriana still lingered, raw and unresolved, and the image of their lips together was one you couldn’t quite shake, but you stupidly had been pushing it aside. you didn’t want to have this stupid conversation, didn’t want to risk anything breaking this beautiful little bubble you were both in. surely, there was an explanation—there had to be. so, just ask him.

maybe they used to have a thing? you honestly didn't really like to think about it all because the image alone upset you but if they did have a thing, it was probably over. right?

and the new girl every day thing had to be made up though the valentine's day letters did stir something up in you.

rafe was so gentle, so soft, so loving and caring. he could never treat girls as disposable as cora made it out to be.

“you could bring ivy,” he adds, his voice softening, his gaze hopeful. “i’ll drive her home after, and maybe you could sleep over?”

his words are casual, but the implication lingers in the space between you. you’d been waiting for the right occasion to finally have sex and his parents not being home? that seemed like the perfect time and place. your heart races. the idea of staying over—of finally taking that step—sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, but at the same time, you can’t ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head urging you to bring up the bonfire first.

you nod slowly, “can we—“

“bring me where?” ivy’s voice cuts through your words. you glance up to see her standing behind you, her curious gaze flicking between you and the phone.

“oh,” you say quickly, trying to gather your thoughts. “rafe’s hosting this small thing at his house, and he asked if you’d want to come.”

ivy slides into the seat beside you, resting her head on your shoulder so her face pops into the frame. “what kind of thing?” she asks, her question clearly directed at rafe.

"a..barbecue but it's not outside—alcohol, but you don't have to drink—ultra casual friends thing. i can drop you off at home too." rafe explains, his voice steady but warm.

ivy hesitates for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly before she relaxes with a shrug. “why not? i’ve never been to that kind of thing,” she says lightly, her tone curious.

she turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “we can go, right?”

you glance between her and rafe, feeling the weight of their gazes. finally, you nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “yeah, we can go. rafe’s bringing us chipotle first,” you add, your tone brightening.

ivy’s eyes light up as she leans toward the phone. “wait, don’t joke with me. are you really getting us food?”

rafe chuckles, his voice warm and teasing. “yeah. what do you want?”

“hold on, i need my phone!” ivy scrambles, rummaging through her bag, and you laugh, shaking your head. “she has a very specific chipotle order,” you explain, already typing it out. “it’s easier if i just text it to you.”

rafe smirks, clearly entertained, but he doesn’t argue. a few minutes later, after you send the details, you’re subjected to twenty-eight excruciating minutes of ivy glancing toward the hallway every few seconds, her anticipation palpable. yes, you counted.

when rafe finally walks in, bags in hand, ivy practically leaps out of her seat. “you’re god-sent,” she declares dramatically, clutching the food like it’s a lifeline before digging in with record speed. you can’t help but laugh, your chest warming at the sight of her excitement and rafe’s quiet amusement.

rafe strolled over to you, his hands extended, palms up. you tilted your head, curious, before slipping your hands into his. his grip was warm and steady as he pulled you to your feet, and before you could say anything, he looped your arms around his neck. his hands settled lightly on your waist, and then he dipped his head to kiss you. it was slow and gentle, the kind of kiss that left you dizzy, though you fought to keep yourself grounded, sighing softly against his lips as he pulled you deeper into the moment.

“missed you, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he pulled back just enough that your breaths mingled between you.

“i missed you,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper before you pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. his grin was soft but immediate, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as his hands slid lower to steady you.

“thanks for the food,” you said, glancing briefly toward ivy, who was blissfully absorbed in her chipotle bowl, completely oblivious to the exchange.

rafe followed your gaze, chuckling under his breath. “no need to thank me.” he stepped back and dropped into the chair you’d been sitting in, only to tug you down onto his knee.

you settled against him, adjusting slightly to get comfortable. “you always tell me not to thank you,” you said with mock exasperation, tilting your head to look at him. “that’s really rude, you know? who doesn’t say thank you?”

he pulled a bag from beside his chair and started unpacking it, his movements casual. “you don’t need to thank me for things that go without saying,” he replied simply, not looking up.

you hummed thoughtfully, the familiar spark of debate flaring in your chest. “i get what you’re saying, but i think some things do need acknowledgment. like, i agree there are certain actions that people do in relationships—whether romantic, familial, or platonic—that don’t need constant recognition. but still, a little appreciation never hurts. like when my parents put food on the table—it’s their job, sure, but i still say thank you because it shows I value their effort. it’s about gratitude, not obligation.”

rafe placed your bowl in front of you, a fork and napkin neatly folded beside it. “i get that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you dug into your food. “but i think a lot of things are just part of being in someone’s life. like, it’s not a task or a burden for me to do something for you. it’s automatic—like brushing my teeth. you don’t thank someone for brushing their teeth, do you? it’s just… normal.”

you chewed slowly, considering his point, before shifting on his knee to face him better. the bowl rested on your lap as you studied his expression. “that’s an interesting perspective,” you said finally, nodding a little. “but i’m still going to say thank you.”

his lips curved into a soft smirk as he raked his fingers through his hair. “and i’m still going to tell you not to.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. picking up the flashcards from the table, you plopped them into his hands. “fine, if you won’t accept my thanks, you can at least make yourself useful. quiz me.”

rafe huffed dramatically as he fanned through the colorful cards. “wow, i’m really just a tool to you, huh?”

from across the table, ivy piped up between bites of her food, her voice dripping with dry humor. “not just a tool, also a bank card.”

rafe’s laughter was immediate, shaking his head as he glanced at you.

“okay,” he said, flipping to the first card with a grin. “what was the purpose of the patriot act?”

you don’t linger too long at the library—just long enough for you and ivy to finish your food. once the bowls are empty and the conversation fades, rafe gathers you both and drives you home so you can drop off your bags and check in with your parents. the plan is simple: tell them you’re sleeping over at ivy’s, grab a few essentials, and head out again.

once inside, you catch a whiff of the lingering chipotle smell on your clothes, and it’s enough to make you grimace. after a quick change into fresh, comfortable clothes, and brushing your teeth to erase the last traces of cilantro-lime rice, you’re back in rafe’s car.

he’s quiet when you slide into the passenger seat, his head down as he types something on his phone. the faint glow illuminates a frown etched into his features. you buckle your seatbelt and glance at him, concern stirring. “you okay?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t look up or respond, his focus still glued to his screen.

“rafe?” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time. his head snaps up, eyes meeting yours as if pulled from deep thought.

“hmm?” he hums, blinking.

“are you okay?” you repeat, studying him closely.

he exhales, the frown softening but not entirely disappearing. “yeah,” he says quietly, slipping his phone onto the console. “just… haven’t heard much from sarah lately. i’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

you nod, your hand brushing against his arm in a small, reassuring gesture. “i’m sure she’s fine. maybe reach out to your aunt in the morning, just to check in? but it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

his lips quirk into a faint smile as he nods. “yeah, you’re probably right. i’ll text her tomorrow.”

ivy clambers into the back seat, breaking the moment, and soon rafe is pulling out of your driveway. the car hums softly, the headlights cutting through the dark as ivy peppers rafe with questions about anything and everything that pops into her head. her curiosity is endless.

you smile faintly at their banter, but your mind drifts, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. it wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the thought of being around rafe’s friends again brought a weight to your chest. the last time had ended badly, leaving you walking home alone in the dark, tears blurring your vision.

time had passed since that night, though, and things were different now. rafe had been nothing but perfect—kind, attentive, funny, the kind of person who made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. your parents adored him, your friends approved, and he had done nothing to make you doubt his feelings. it should be fine. everything should be fine. but still, a flicker of unease clung to you.

you’d talk to him tonight, when everyone left. that was the only quiet moment you’d get.

“you okay?” ivy’s voice broke through your thoughts as you approached rafe’s front door.

you glanced at her, startled, and nodded quickly. “yeah, of course. why?”

she studied you for a moment, her brow furrowed. “you just seem a little… nervous.”

“nope, not nervous,” you said with a forced smile, shaking your head as if to convince yourself as much as her.

she didn’t press further, but the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes as you both stepped inside behind rafe.

the faint murmur of voices floated from the living room, punctuated by occasional laughter, as you crossed the foyer. the sound made your stomach tighten, but you squared your shoulders and followed rafe’s lead, determined to make it through the evening.

"rafe! there you are, i seriously need—" kiara's voice echoed down the stairs but stopped abruptly when her eyes landed on you and ivy. her surprised expression melted into a wide, welcoming smile. "hey! you came!" she exclaimed, practically skipping down the last few steps.

jj was close behind her, bounding down the stairs like a golden retriever before leaping onto rafe’s back in a chaotic greeting. rafe stumbled forward slightly, muttering something about jj needing a leash, but you were too focused on kiara approaching you and ivy.

"hey, kiara," you said warmly, gesturing toward your friend. "this is ivy."

ivy offered a polite smile and a small wave. "hi, nice to meet you."

"i’m kiara," she said, grinning at the both of you. "so glad you came." without missing a beat, she looped an arm through yours and started tugging you forward. jj threw a quick, cheerful “hi” your way before he and rafe disappeared behind the corner.

"since you don’t drink, i got you something special!" kiara announced with an excited sparkle in her eyes. she practically beamed as she gestured toward the kitchen island, where cleo and pope were deep in the throes of concocting something that resembled a science experiment more than a drink.

pope held up a glass, swirling it like a sommelier, while cleo smirked beside him, her fingers busy mixing something else.

"look!" kiara reached for a six-pack of sleek, colorful cans and held them up like a prized trophy. you stared at them, blinking in confusion.

"they’re virgin mojitos!" she said proudly, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.

it clicked a moment later, and you couldn’t help but smile. "so, i can kind of pretend i’m drinking the same as you guys? how thoughtful!" you laugh and kiara nods.

"of course! no one gets left out here," she said with a grin.

pope had already grabbed one of the cans, cracking it open with a flourish and pouring its contents into a glass. he added some questionable-looking ingredients from the assortment on the counter, finishing it off with a dramatic sprinkle of sugar.

"boom!" pope declared, sliding the drink toward you. "virgin cocktails à la cleo and pope. tell me that’s not perfection."

with cautious determination, you took a small sip. immediately, your face scrunched up as the overpowering sweetness hit you. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow without gagging.

"oh my god," you croaked, handing the glass to ivy, who was already laughing at your reaction.

ivy hesitated, then took a brave sip herself. the second the liquid touched her tongue, her eyes went wide, and she practically spat it back into the glass. "oh, god! what is that? did you dump an entire bag of sugar in here?"

pope and cleo were doubled over with laughter, clearly amused by your suffering.

as ivy hunted for water, muttering something about "instant diabetes," john b strolled into the kitchen, eyebrow raised. "guys, seriously? already throwing up?"

ivy, still laughing through her sputtering, waved him off as she grabbed a glass of water. "i think i just shaved ten years off my life," she mumbled dramatically, taking long gulps.

cleo crossed her arms, looking offended. "you two clearly don’t appreciate our craftsmanship."

"yeah," pope added, nodding in agreement. "this is an art form."

you glanced at kiara, who was biting her lip to hold back laughter. your shared look was enough to set both of you off.

you weave through the place, scanning for rafe in the sea of familiar faces, but he’s nowhere in sight. a few steps in, you collide with jj, his lazy grin revealing he's had more than just a few drinks. "hello," he greets, his voice light and teasing.

"hi," you reply, smiling politely, though his glassy eyes and slight sway make you wonder if he’s entirely steady on his feet.

you glance back to see him watching pope and cleo, who are hunched over the kitchen counter, laughing as they concoct a drink that looks less like a cocktail and more like a dare. jj turns back to you, ignoring your question entirely. "looking for rafe?" he asks, his tone casual.

"yeah," you nod, and his grin widens.

"i’ll take you to him." before you can protest, he drapes an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the garden.

outside, the air is cooler, and the faint glow of string lights illuminates the yard. rafe stands by the grill with topper and cora. topper is manning the grill, flipping meat with practiced ease, while cora plates the freshly cooked food. rafe, on the other hand, leans casually against the table, contributing absolutely nothing.

"rafe! i brought you a peace offering," jj announces with exaggerated theatrics, gripping your shoulders and nudging you forward.

"peace offering?" you echo, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glance between jj and rafe.

rafe’s brows lift as he looks at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. "oh, yes. a peace offering because jackson here threw up on my carpet yesterday," he says dryly.

jj lets out an indignant noise, ducking as rafe chucks a nearby towel at his head. "dude! i cleaned it up, and you love me, so stop holding grudges and just forgive me already."

jj moves toward the table, hand reaching for a freshly grilled sausage, but cora smacks his fingers without missing a beat. "it just came off the grill, idiot. you’ll burn yourself."

"you didn’t clean it up," topper chimes in, laughing. "you wiped it. there’s a difference. he’s gonna have to get the carpet professionally cleaned."

"and who’s paying for that?" rafe asks, his tone pointed as he slides an arm around your waist.

jj shrugs, lips pressing together in mock thought. "your rich-ass parents," he answers shamelessly.

"or yours," rafe counters, raising a brow.

jj grimaces, shoving a piece of sausage into his mouth before mumbling, "my dad hasn’t given me a dime since i took his lambo for that little joyride."

"you didn’t even crash it. what’s the issue?" kelce’s voice cuts in as he steps out from the house, joining the growing group.

their conversation continues, laughter and banter spilling into the cool night air. but your focus shifts, the voices fading into the background. you can feel cora’s eyes on you, her gaze heavy and assessing. instead of meeting her stare, you focus on the comforting warmth of rafe beside you, the way his chest rumbles when he laughs, the scent of his cologne grounding you. you twist one of his fingers absently, letting the small act ease your nerves.

after a few moments, you lean closer to rafe. "i’m gonna go get a drink," you murmur softly.

his attention snaps to you, his blue eyes searching yours. "you good?" he asks, concern flickering across his face.

you nod quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. "uh-huh. you want anything?"

"whatever beer’s in the fridge," he replies, and you nod, brushing a kiss against his cheek before heading back toward the house.

as you step inside, the warmth and noise envelop you again, and your gaze lands on adriana making her entrance. she glides through with a confidence that borders on arrogance, her knowing smile is a little unsettling and when she catches your eye, her expression twists into something mocking, though she doesn’t say a word. instead, she brushes past you, heading straight for the garden—and for rafe.

you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to shake off the unease bubbling in your chest. moving toward the kitchen, you find ivy perched at the island, her laughter mingling with the chatter of kiara, cleo, pope, and john b.

you rest your chin on ivy’s shoulder, your voice soft as you ask, "you good?"

she turns to you, her smile bright and reassuring. "very good. you?"

the question is simple, but the answer feels anything but. you hesitate, searching for the right words, though none seem to fit. "yeah," you say finally, forcing a smile. it’s what you should say because nothing is wrong. but deep down, something feels off. something you can’t quite place.

the whole evening, you kept waiting for something to go wrong. you could feel it hovering like a storm cloud, an almost tangible weight pressing on your chest. but nothing happened. cora and adriana barely acknowledged you, and rafe’s friends were as welcoming and warm as the first time you’d met them. you ate, you laughed, and for a moment, you almost believed the night could stay perfect.

but then you glanced at the clock—nine p.m.—and instinctively reached for your phone, only to realize it wasn’t in your pocket. you patted the other one, frowning as the absence unsettled you. rafe, ever attentive, noticed immediately.

“do you know where my phone is?” you asked him, voice light despite the knot forming in your stomach.

he paused, thoughtful. “in your jacket? jackets are on my bed upstairs. want me to grab it?”

you shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “no, that’s okay.” before he could respond, you were already moving, eager to retrieve it yourself.

the familiar grey door to his room was ajar, and inside, a mountain of jackets sprawled across his bed. you rifled through them, finally locating yours. slipping your phone from the pocket, you glanced at the screen. just a couple of messages—school group chats and your mom wishing you a good night.

you were still typing a reply to your mom when you turned and gasped, startled to find yourself face-to-face with adriana.

“adriana, hi.” your voice wavered as you took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest.”

“hey, teach.” she smiled and took a strand of your hair, flicking it between her fingers. “isn’t he great with his fingers?”

you frowned. “what?” the word barely escaped your lips before they continued.

“didn’t i tell you next time, it’d be you?” cora mused, from behind her, her usual saccharine smile firmly in place. "right as always."

“listen,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady as you shifted to step past them, “i don’t want any problems with either of you. if there’s a problem with rafe, you should really just talk to him.” the words felt forced, but you hoped they’d end this confrontation.

cora chuckled, the sound low and condescending. “there is no problem with rafe,” she said breezily. “that’s what we’re trying to tell you. no girl has ever had any complaints.”

“this says as much,” adriana chimed in, and your stomach dropped as you turned to see her holding a stack of letters. valentine’s day letters. rafe’s valentine’s day letters.

your chest tightened painfully. “those are just crushes,” you said quickly, your voice firmer now. “they don’t mean anything.”

“really?” cora tilted her head, her brows arching in mock curiosity. “well, i’m curious.”

you had no interest in entertaining their games, so you moved to leave, muttering, “okay, you two have fun. i’m gonna go.”

but adriana grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a laugh that grated against your nerves. “no, no, hold on, teach!” she sang, flipping open one of the letters with deliberate glee.

“this one’s good,” she began, her voice dripping with amusement. she cleared her throat. “‘rafey, the other night was so fun. i left you a little gift in your sock drawer. same time, next friday? love, lexi.’”

next friday? had he really been seeing girls while he was seeing you?

your breath caught as cora, with a sickening familiarity, moved to the dresser. she opened the drawer without hesitation, rummaging through the neatly folded socks until she produced something bright red.

“and would you look at that?” cora said, holding up a pair of red lace panties. “pretty sexy.”

“wait, those are actually cute,” adriana giggled, inspecting them like they were a trophy. “wonder where she got them.”

you stared at the fabric dangling from her fingers, the blood draining from your face. this had to be manipulation. some twisted attempt to mess with you. but then, why did he have those panties?

cora snatched another letter, her grin widening. “okay, another one! ‘remember our beach day? you said you love me. can’t stop thinking about you. happy valentine’s day. s.’”

you felt a sharp sting behind your eyes, and when cora turned to you, her expression almost pitying, the first tear slipped free. you aggressively wiped it away.

“she’s so sweet! isn’t she sweet?” she taunted, and her gaze made something inside you snap.

you clutched your jacket tightly, desperate to leave, but adriana wasn’t finished. “hold on, teach!” she laughed, grabbing yet another letter. “this one’s even better! ‘i still remember when you took my v-card in the back of your car—‘“

no no no.

no.

your heart strings pulled tightly and you stopped listening. you shoved past adriana, the world around you blurring as tears filled your vision.

you felt a hand grip your arm and tug you back. “hey?” cora’s ‘concerned’ face, “we’re just trying to help you. i’m a girl’s girl, y/n. i just don’t want to see you get hurt since clearly you aren’t smart enough to see through him yourself.”

you tugged your arm away and behind you, their laughter echoed like a cruel melody. “how sad,” adriana laughed, her voice chasing you down the hallway as your chest heaved with silent, choked sobs.

you rush down the stairs, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the pounding in your ears. tears blur your vision, and the lump in your throat feels like it’s choking you. you don’t stop, you can’t stop. your heart is in free fall, shattering with every breath. you dart past rafe's friends, kiara's concerned look, topper saying something you don't quite catch, their faces a blur, until you find ivy.

her eyes meet yours instantly, wide with concern, like she can sense the storm inside you. “i’m gonna go,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling. before you can say another word, she’s at your side, her hand brushing against your arm. “y/n?”

rafe is suddenly there too, his brows furrowed, confusion etched into his face. “y/n, baby?” his voice is soft but urgent, and when he reaches for your wrist, you yank it away, shaking your head violently.

“what's wrong, talk to me?” he pleads, moving to block your path. his blue eyes are frantic, clouded with worry, the same eyes you adored only minutes ago. now all you could think about was how you sat in his car, the same car he used to bring you to the retirement home, the one he used to pick you up and take you to school, the one where you'd laughed the most you'd ever laughed and you'd kissed him over and over. the same car you'd given him your first freaking blowjob in was the same car he used to take some girl's virginity and who knows who else's? yours was next. clearly.

“please, just let me g-go.” your voice cracks, trembling with barely-contained sobs as you try to push past him because the thoughts of 'next friday' won't leave you. the picture of him with another girl right after your seeing you or even right before. who knows?

rafe doesn’t let up. his hands find your arms, his grip firm but careful, his touch begging you to stay. “what happened? y/n, please—please talk to me,” he implores, his voice breaking as he tries to steady you, to calm you and it feels like such bullshit, it all feels like a slap in the face and it feels like being deceived and betrayed and you can’t think, don’t care about all the eyes on you, watching you cry—you can’t care because you have this ugly picture playing in your head of him sleeping with girls after touching you and kissing you and him telling a girl he loves her and that girl isn’t you. that girl is not you. it was never you. it all sort of becomes clear. this illusion, dream-like state that you refused to burst out of because of how blissful it felt was really just that, a far-fetched dream.

“don’t touch me! stop!” you cry, your voice rising, panic taking over.

adriana’s voice slices through the tension like a blade, smooth and cruel. “you should leave her alone, rafe. i think she’s had enough.”

his head snaps toward her, his body stiffening. “what? what did you say to her? what the fuck did you two do?” his voice is sharp, his tone teetering on the edge of fury as he glares at adriana and cora.

cora shrugs, her smile dripping with feigned innocence. “we? we didn’t say anything to her. your many, many conquests, though? they were a lot more talkative.”

you watch as the words register, as rafe freezes, his anger shifting to something like dread. his gaze swings back to you, wide and pleading. “you read the letters?” he whispers.

you don’t answer. the tears in your eyes say enough. they won’t stop, pouring down your cheeks as you stare at him, your chest heaving with sobs you can’t control. his momentary hesitation gives you just enough time to slip out of his grasp, to make a desperate break for the door.

“no! no, wait—” his voice is desperate, and his hand finds your wrist again, pulling you into his chest. his grip trembles as much as his voice. “it’s not true—” he stammers, then falters. “well, it’s—i swear, i promise, the moment this became real, the moment i realised you didn't just see me as a friend, i was yours. you know me,” he pleads, his words rushing together, his forehead pressing against yours in a futile attempt to anchor you. “look at me, baby. look at me. you know me.” he begs.

you don’t wipe the tears away. there’s no point. they fall faster than you can stop them, burning hot trails down your cheeks. “is that you? a new girl every couple of days? you—” your voice cracks, broken and raw, “you told a girl you love her?"” the words feel like poison on your tongue, and you pray, beg silently for him to deny it, to give you anything to make this nightmare go away.

“you took another girl’s virginity… in your car?” the words taste bitter on your tongue, your voice breaking on the last syllable. your chest is so tight it hurts to breathe.

you try to pull away from him, to rip yourself from his grasp, but his fingers cling desperately to you. the nausea rises so violently you think you might actually throw up.

rafe’s head shakes frantically, his own eyes filling with tears, the panic setting in. “i don’t—i don’t have the best track record, i know that! but you—you brought out the best in me. i know i fucked up, i know the shit i did wasn’t okay, but i’m sorry,” he pleads, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

you barely hear him. your pulse is roaring in your ears, your vision blurring with tears.

“do you remember her name?” you whisper. your voice is so quiet, so fragile, but it cuts through the air like a blade.

his breath catches. his whole body goes still, like he doesn’t understand the question. his blue eyes dart across your face, searching desperately for something—an out, an answer, a way to fix this.

“what…?” his voice is hoarse.

you swallow back a sob, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “you were her first,” you repeat, and your voice is deadly soft now. “do you even remember her name?”

the silence that follows is unbearable.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t even breathe for three whole seconds.

and that’s all it takes.

your stomach lurches. a cold, sickening wave crashes over you, and suddenly his hands on you feel wrong, like they’re scorching your skin, leaving burns behind.

“no, please—please, baby, don’t—” rafe’s voice is raw, wrecked. he reaches for you again, his hands desperate, his entire body pleading, but you stumble back, chest heaving, tears slipping down your face in hot, relentless streams.

he chokes on a breath. his whole face is crumbling, his own tears spilling over now, but you can’t bear to look at him. you can’t breathe around the ache in your chest, around the betrayal weighing down your limbs like lead.

“oh, god..” you shake your head, wrenching yourself out of his arms. “no, please, please.” he tries to pull you close, tries to get you to look at him. “baby—“

“no. no, please, stop. let me go,” you beg him, your voice shaking as you push him away, desperate to escape.

“no, y/n, please—please don’t go,” he begs, his hands reaching for you again, trembling with desperation. “i’m so sorry. i swear, i swear on everything, i’m not that person anymore. i can't lose you. you know me!”

but you can’t listen. you can’t hear another word, not when your heart is breaking like this. the air feels too heavy, the walls too close, and all you know is that you need to get out of this house.

you yank the front door open, but your escape halts when you see her—sarah cameron, standing there with a suitcase in hand. even through the haze of your tears, you recognize her.

“sur…prise,” she says hesitantly, her eyes darting between you, rafe, and the onlookers scattered around the foyer. the scene before her—a girl sobbing uncontrollably, rafe pleading, their friends frozen in stunned silence—leaves her wide-eyed and unsure.

you only look at her for a fleeting moment before stepping past her, out into the cold night. rafe’s voice carries after you, cracking with disbelief. “sarah?”

ivy’s hand slips into yours as she catches up, her grip warm and grounding. you squeeze it tightly, the tears still flowing, unstoppable and endless, as you walk away.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

a.n — um ya.. what IM surprised abt is that she was gonna let him hit it when he hasnt even made it official..? girl? standardsss??

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