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pitlanepeach · 2 months ago

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From Eden | Chapter Seven pt.2 (7/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Agoraphobia, social anxiety, minor panic attack in public, Oscar speaking Spanish (brief, but ohmygawd), Christmas celebrations, brief sexual content.

Notes — Thanks for being patient with me for this one. I think I was lowkey procrastinating writing this because I’m going to miss them so much. Chapter 8 is also going to be a 2 parter, btw!

Oscar liked Spain.

He always had. There was something about the rhythm of the place — the slow, golden mornings, the late, laughter-filled dinners, the way the sun clung to his skin like honey, even in December. He’d spent a lot of time there over the past few years. For races, mostly. Training camps, media appearances, test days on sun-bleached tracks. It had always been somewhere he associated with purpose. With movement.

Now, though, it was different.

Now, he couldn’t walk the streets or breathe the air without feeling how it had shifted — how the fact that her parents had chosen to call this place home had altered everything.

(“They moved here after choosing early retirement,” Francesca had explained quietly, hours earlier in bed, when the sky was still indigo and the hotel was cloaked in silence. Her fingers had curled into the hem of his shirt like she was anchoring herself to him. Oscar’s hand had moved slowly through her hair, massaging her scalp the way she liked. Anything to soothe her.

“They emptied their bank accounts,” she went on. “Sold my childhood home.” Her voice cracked — not with tears, but with that quiet kind of ache that lived just under the surface. “We used to live in the countryside in Surrey, you know? I used to buy myself chickens with my pocket money.”

Oscar had smiled gently at that, picturing a younger version of her — tiny and stubborn, stomping around in bright yellow welly boots, giving all of the chickens names and backstories.

“That was five years ago, I think. I was seventeen. They sent me off to uni, helped me move into my dorm, and then a week later told me they’d sold the house. No warning. Just—‘Oh, by the way, we’re moving to Spain.’ Like it was no big deal.”

Oscar’s hand had stilled for a moment in her hair. His jaw ticked.

Seventeen.

She’d been seventeen. Still a teenager. Already struggling, freshly away from home, and they’d pulled up their roots and left the country.

It hit him like a cold slap — not just how abrupt it had been, but how deeply, quietly cruel. How abandoned she would’ve felt, in the aftermath.

Oscar knew what it was to leave home young. He’d gone off to boarding school when he was barely a teenager. Airports and hotels became familiar long before adulthood did. But even then — even in the loneliest, most exhausting moments — he’d still had people checking in. His parents had never disappeared. They’d driven hours to stand at cold karting tracks and sit through painful sponsor meetings. They'd never made him feel like he had to face the world without them.

Francesca, though — she'd been left to do it all on her own. She hadn’t had a team behind her or a goal pulling her forward. She’d just been a kid.

She would’ve needed more. More reassurance. More patience. More love.

And they hadn’t given her any of it.

“My sister didn’t care,” she continued. “She was already living with whatever boyfriend she had at the time — Ian, I think his name was. But it was my home, you know? I thought I’d get to come back to it. I thought—” She stopped. Shrugged. “Anyway. Yeah. That’s how they ended up living here, and I stayed in England.”

Her voice was flat, stripped of emotion, and Oscar hated it.

He didn’t say anything at first. Mostly because if he did, he was pretty sure it would come out too sharp, too cutting — the kind of thing he wouldn’t be able to take back. He could feel the words rising in him anyway, bitter and hot in his throat.

But she didn’t need his anger.

Instead, his fingers slid across the sheets and found hers under the covers, cool and curled and a little tense. He squeezed gently — once, then again. It wasn’t just for comfort.

It was a promise. A quiet vow etched into the space between them.

Never again, baby.

He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t need to.

She gave the smallest squeeze back.)

—

He kept his hood up as he walked, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, trainers silent on the cobbled pavement. It was early still — the kind of soft morning that made everything feel gentler than it really was — but the streets were beginning to stir. The occasional bark of a dog, a child singing a Christmas carol at the top of their voice, the low murmur of Spanish slipping between couples on their balconies.

Oscar moved quietly through it all, sunglasses tugged low even though the sun hadn’t quite made it over the rooftops yet. He wasn’t trying to draw attention. He never really was. Still, it happened sometimes.

And it did, halfway down the block.

Two teenagers in matching puffer jackets, shoulders hunched and earbuds in, passed him and then doubled back a few seconds later, whispering frantically. He caught the shift in their pace, the cautious glance from one of them as she pulled out her phone and raised it subtly.

He offered a quick smile, nodding once, but didn’t stop. He didn’t really mind — he never had, it was all part of the life he’d chosen — but right now, his mind was too full of Francesca.

Of how small she’d looked yesterday. Of how quiet she’d been all night.

Of how she’d pressed her nails into her palms. How she'd barely touched her food. How her mother’s voice had hovered sharp in the air like static, and her sister’s laugh had stung like vinegar on a paper cut.

Oscar exhaled slowly as he turned the corner, the warm scent of coffee and sugar curling out into the street ahead of him.

He was trying. Trying to give her something soft in the middle of all this hardness. Trying to make up for years that aren’t his to make up for.

He stepped into the café, the bell overhead jingling softly. The woman behind the counter greeted him in rapid Spanish, and he answered with a polite smile and a “Dos cafés con leche, por favor,” his Australian accent thick, but his Spanish passable. Then, pointing to the glass case filled with pastries, he added, “Y... algo dulce. Lo mejor.” Something sweet. The best one.

Because that’s what Francesca deserved.

Something warm. Something kind. Something good.

He balanced the tray carefully as he stepped out of the café, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click. Two coffees, one with oat milk — hers, obviously — and a small white paper bag full of whatever pastries the woman behind the counter had insisted were the best. He hadn’t asked questions. Just smiled and handed over a few notes, trusting her judgement more than his own half-asleep cravings.

The air had warmed a little since he left the hotel, sunlight stretching long and golden across the pavement. The buildings threw soft shadows. There were more people out now, the small Spanish town waking up, but still no one paid him much mind.

Again, his hood was up. His head was down.

And his thoughts were full of her.

He took a slow breath.

Australia.

The word itself felt too big to say out loud yet. But it had been circling his brain since the moment he got off the phone with his mum the night before. Since she’d told him, so casually, Book the flight. Bring her home. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he wasn’t dealing with something so fragile, carrying her heart in his hands, trying to protect it from every sharp corner.

But maybe it was the right thing. Maybe it would be good for her. Sunshine. Real family. Space to breathe. Not her parents’ house, but his. His world. The people who already loved her without even really knowing her yet.

Oscar reached the corner and paused, waiting for the light to change. He shifted the tray to one hand, his fingers curling tight around the edge.

He didn’t want to push. That was the biggest thing. Francesca had spent so long being tugged around by people who didn’t listen; didn’t care. He never wanted to be another person adding pressure to her shoulders.

But God, he wanted her there. Wanted her to see what family could feel like. Wanted to fall asleep next to her with the windows open to the summer air and sand still on their legs. Wanted to show her his world — not the racing one, not the public one, but the real one.

He crossed the street, hotel coming into view ahead. They had the rest of the day ahead of them. No more family obligations. Just each other.

Maybe he’d ask her after breakfast.

Or maybe he’d crawl back into bed beside her, tuck the duvet around her shoulders, kiss her temple, and then ask.

Yeah. That sounded good.

—

iMessage — Hattie & Francesca

Hattie

has he asked you yet???? 👀

Francesca

asked me what???

good morning to you too btw

wait what time is it there

oh just checked lol. good afternoon

Hattie

okay so here’s a rly fun idea!!!!!

let’s pretend none of this happened ok

actually i think i have the wrong number!

Francesca

hattie. piastri.

Hattie

NO DON’T BIG SISTER ME OMG

oscar is going to kill me.

—

Francesca was staring at her phone, an amused little frown pulling at her brows, when Oscar came back into the room. He was balancing two coffees and a small paper bag that smelled like sugar and something warm and buttery. Her stomach made an embarrassing sound and she felt her cheeks flush when he smirked at her, clearly having heard it.

“I wasn’t too long?” he asked, then gave her phone a glance. “Everything okay? Is it Katie?”

She shook her head with a soft laugh, her face still a little pink from the noise her stomach had made. “No, not Katie. Your sister, actually. Wanna tell me what’s going on?” She tried to sound casual, but there was a small edge of stress in her voice that made her question if she’d pulled it off.

He frowned, brow furrowing as he took in her words. “What do you mean?”

Francesca held up her phone, her finger pointed at the messages from Hattie. “She’s acting weird. Like, really weird,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity and a bit of concern, watching his expression closely as she waited for his response.

"Right," he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying the weight of frustration and quiet tenderness. He handed her the coffee labeled ‘oat, vanilla’ and placed the small paper bag of pastries down on the bed, his eyes never leaving her. Francesca held the coffee up to her face, breathing in deeply, and Oscar caught the small hum of appreciation that escaped her lips. It made his heart feel a little lighter, as though the world was right, even just for a moment.

But he had to get this out.

“I spoke to my mum last night, once you were asleep,” he said, taking a step back, trying to give her the space to absorb it. He leaned against the edge of the bed, making sure to keep his posture open, inviting her into the conversation but giving her full control. “She wants us to go to Australia.”

Francesca’s fingers curled around the warmth of her coffee cup, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her eyes met his with a quiet surprise, and her lips parted as she tried to process his words. “Wait, what?” Her voice was soft, vulnerable, almost a whisper. “When?”

“Now,” Oscar replied, his voice steady but gentle. “Tomorrow, ideally. Before Christmas, really.” He knew how much the timing mattered. It was already the 18th.

The plan had been to stay in Spain, to spend the holidays with her family. But now… now, things were different.

“I know we were going to stay here with your family,” he continued, shifting slightly as his gaze softened. “But I also know that after… well, after last night…” He let out a small, involuntary breath at the memory. (A hitched breath, her skin pressed against his, her lips against his neck as she said “I don’t want them in my life anymore. I’m done with them, Osc. For good.”) He exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself, his thoughts clear but filled with an ache for her. “I just wanted you to know that it’s an option, yeah?”

Francesca blinked, clearly caught off guard, her eyes flickering downward as she processed his words. The silence stretched just enough for Oscar to notice the subtle shift in her—her shoulders sagged slightly, her brows knitting together as she turned the idea over in her mind. He could almost hear the quiet clamour of her thoughts, a whirlwind of everything she’d been holding inside for so long.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he told her gently, his voice dropping to a soft, soothing tone. He didn’t want to pressure her, not when it came to something so big. “We could go to Australia. We could spend Christmas there, if that’s what you want. Or we could fly back to London, steal Henry back from Katie, and have Christmas at the flat, just the three of us. We could even stay here. Have a hotel Christmas. Order room service turkey sandwiches, get cozy in bed, and binge every single Home Alone movie.” His lips quirked into a small smile at the thought. “Anything, baby.”

"Does your bedroom still look like it did when you were a kid?" she asked softly, breaking the quiet space between them. The question came almost aimlessly.

Oscar made a face. "Yeah. Posters and all. Still got a few of my old racing suits tucked away in the wardrobe, too." His voice was warm, but there was something vulnerable in it too, a hint of nostalgia — the kind of nostalgia that only came from places you’d outgrown, yet could never fully leave behind.

Francesca set her coffee down on the side table. Then, without thinking, she crawled over to him on the bed, her body fluid and natural in the way that only happened when she was with him. Kneeling up close to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer with a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh.

"I miss Henry," she confessed quietly, her voice muffled against the side of his neck. It was a small admission, but it carried the weight of everything she hadn’t fully said yet. The empty space where Henry usually curled up on the couch, the quiet moments where her hands itched to brush his fur.

"Me too," Oscar admitted, his voice low, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, pulling her just a little tighter.

She let out a soft breath, resting her cheek against his chest for a beat, before sitting back slightly to look at him. Her eyes were softer now, but the flicker of uncertainty was still there, dancing behind them. "But I do want to see Hattie again. And I want to eat barbecue food on Christmas Day and sunbathe on Boxing Day." Her lips curved up a little at the thought, and for a moment, the heaviness of the conversation seemed to lighten. Still, she stared at him, her gaze more serious now. “It’s a lot, Osc. I prepared myself for Spain. I don’t… I don’t have anything with me. I—” She paused, taking in a shallow breath, like she could already feel the weight of the change pressing down on her. “I can already feel myself starting to get worked up about this.”

He let her speak, his hand coming up to gently brush her hair back from her face, his fingers lingering at the curve of her jaw, grounding her.

“I know,” he murmured softly, his voice full of understanding. “It’s a big thing, and I didn’t want to spring it on you like this, especially after everything with your family. But I just need you to know it’s an option, yeah?”

She nodded, her gaze softening as she took in his words. Then, without warning, she leaned up and kissed him gently, a quiet affirmation that spoke louder than any words could.

“Can we eat now?” She asked quietly, almost shyly, as if the simplicity of the request could bring some semblance of normalcy back.

He let out a small laugh, the tension melting from his shoulders as he cupped her face in his hands. “Of course we can, baby,” he said, his voice low and tender.

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she pulled away and reached for the paper bag of pastries.

—

TWO DAYS LATER

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Francesca

send me photos of my son pls

Katie

*5 photos of Henry sleeping, belly-up, on Katie’s silk bedsheets*

Aren’t you literally on an international flight right now?

Francesca

osc bought me wifi hehe

so i could reply to the comments on my new vid

he’s the best.

Katie

Millionaire bf buys you airline wifi and you’re impressed….?

Francesca

I’m like 90% sure the only thing ive spent my money on since meeting this man is rent. and he tried to talk me into putting that in his name last week.

Katie

…

I think I’m turned on

Francesca

keep that to urself pls

just send me more pictures of my son

oscar wants to see the baby

Katie

*4 photos of Henry, staring at the camera, unimpressed*

—

The hot evening air kissed Francesca’s skin as she walked barefoot along the shoreline, the soft sand slipping between her toes with each step. The rhythm of the waves crashing against the beach was a calming constant, yet her heart beat erratically in her chest, a mix of adrenaline and something else she couldn’t quite place.

The hum of the airport still lingered in her mind, the whirlwind of the past few days — the multiple flights, the onslaught of newness, the heavy discomfort that had settled in her bones.

She stopped, her feet sinking a little deeper into the sand, and let out a quiet breath, her fingers threading through the loose strands of her hair. “It’s all so... different,” she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the roar of the waves.

Oscar turned to face her, his expression soft but alert. “Different good or different... not so good?”

Francesca smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked back out at the dark horizon, the blackness of the sea melding with the sky, the sound of the waves rolling over her thoughts. “I don’t know. I think it’s just... I can’t believe I did this, Osc.”

Oscar hummed softly, the sound rich with understanding, a quiet vibration through his chest as he held her. His hand, warm and steady, reached out, gently guiding her down, not onto the sand but onto his lap, letting her find a place there, nestled against him. She let him guide her without protest, her body naturally folding as she settled, curling into him like she always had, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her head fell to rest on his shoulder, her nose brushing the crook of his neck, where the faint scent of him — wood, salt, and something undeniably him — soothed her in ways she hadn’t realised she needed. The warm night air danced around them, but it didn’t reach the warmth of his skin.

Oscar’s fingers stroked through her hair, not with urgency, but with a calm rhythm. She could feel the subtle tension of his muscles beneath her cheek, his heartbeat steady and solid against her ear.

Francesca’s eyes fluttered shut, her chest rising and falling as she let herself relax into him, allowing the quiet weight of the night to press down on her, to settle the storm that had been brewing ever since she’d turned to him and said, “Okay, let’s go to Australia. I want to spend Christmas with your family.”

Tiny bruises marred the smooth skin of his neck, visible only when she looked up close — tiny marks, fang marks. They weren’t anything particularly dramatic, but to Francesca, they were something else entirely. They were her mark on him.

She liked seeing them there. They made him more real, more hers in a way that the world couldn’t take from her. A part of him that she had a claim to — just like he had a claim to her entire soul.

Her breath evened out, the warmth of his body wrapping around her like a protective shield.

“I can’t believe I actually did it,” she murmured again, her voice barely audible, but the words were a confession she hadn’t known she needed to say aloud. “I— I’m really happy. Overwhelmed. Scared. I wish I had a machine that would send me back to my flat right now, but…” She paused, taking a breath, letting the weight of the moment sink in. “I’m so happy.”

His hand trailed slowly down her back, the motion lazy and comforting, until it rested over her hip, pressing her closer into him. “Love you. Proud of you.” He mumbled.

She kissed his neck. Then she bit him.

Just because she could.

—

Christmas Day was a blur of laughter, food, sunshine, and Oscar. The air was warm, the sun shining down in that way only Australia could, and everything felt like a slow, peaceful escape from reality.

Nicole was already in her Pilates clothes, singing Christmas carols as she cooked breakfast, her voice bright and full of joy. "It's a tradition," she explained, when Francesca raised an eyebrow, confused. "My class does a special Christmas Day session. I can't miss it!”

Hattie had woken them up with a loud, cheery “Santa’s been!” that made Francesca laugh despite herself. She buried herself deeper into the warmth of Oscar’s chest, the weight of him comforting in the best way. They were still tucked up in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by old medals, trophies, and photographs from every year of his racing career. Being there felt intimate in such a specific, beautiful way.

The presents were piled under the tree when they made their way downstairs. Nicole handed out glasses of iced mochas instead of hot chocolate — her own twist on Christmas tradition — and the air was filled with the laughter of Hattie teasing her parents about her presents and Oscar rolling his eyes at her brattiness, but smiling all the while. By midday, they’d all made their way out into the garden, basking in the warmth of the sun.

Chris had, of course, taken charge of the barbecue, declaring himself the “master of meat,” and making it clear that Hattie wasn’t allowed anywhere near the grill. “She’s got a bit of a hairspray addiction. Think it’s just a phase,” Nicole had whispered to Francesca, her tone conspiratorial.

Despite the whirlwind of it all, Francesca quickly found her place in the chaos. It was nothing like the Christmases she’d known—those were quieter, more subdued. This one was louder, brighter, warmer. Every moment felt larger than life.

As for Oscar… she had given him his present at midnight, when they were tucked in bed, the world outside quiet and still. She’d felt a wave of anxiety when she handed him it over, wrapped in cat-print paper. She watched his hands as he unwrapped it.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked, his voice low, quiet, and warm.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip, her heart thumping in her chest. She reached over, took the book from him with hands that were slightly unsteady, and flipped to a few pages in — the dedication. All for him.

For you, Osc. Thank you for giving me the kind of love that people write novels about — it made this book possible.

He stared at the words for a long, breathless moment. He held the book carefully, like it was something sacred. Then, slowly, as if in reverence, he placed the proof copy of her debut novel on his bedside table, out of harm’s way.

Without a word, he reached for her, pulling her against him with a force that sent her breath rushing out. And then, with the kind of desperation that only comes when two hearts know exactly what they mean to each other, he kissed her — deep and messy and raw.

—

Now, sitting beside him in the warmth of the sun, a gentle breeze teasing her hair, Francesca found herself thinking that maybe all of the fear had been worth it, just to be here with him.

Her gaze drifted down to her finger, where her new promise ring rested. It fit her perfectly, a delicate band of silver that caught the light and shimmered softly under the sunlight. Nothing flashy or extravagant — just simple, understated beauty.

A quiet, constant reminder of the fact that she was his, and he was hers.

He’d given it to her in the kitchen, the morning still quiet, the rest of the family occupied elsewhere. He’d lifted her up, setting her gently on the counter, and stepped between her legs. Then, from the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulled out the small, velvet box, his fingers brushing hers as he handed it to her.

She’d held the box like it was fragile, as if it might shatter in her hands, until he chuckled softly and said, “It’s not that. Not yet, baby. This is just something to keep your finger warm in the meantime, yeah?”

Her eyes brimmed with emotion as she slowly cracked the box open, her breath catching in her throat. Inside, nestled on a soft velvet bed, was a silver band. When she examined it closer, she saw that it resembled a delicate piece of string, tied in a knot, dipped in silver. The design was youthful, understated — perfect in its simplicity. It was everything and more.

Oscar reached over and took her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, grounding her back in the moment.

She turned to look at him, eyes soft, the sunlight catching the gold flecks in her irises.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful.

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Okay.”

Without a word, he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the promise ring. Slow, intentional — like he was sealing a vow.

Francesca could feel Nicole watching them from across the garden. She didn’t need to look to know—there was a certain warmth in the air, a gentle kind of attention that made her skin prickle in the nicest way. Nicole was probably smiling. She did that often—soft and full of quiet pride, overjoyed in that tender, maternal way only a mother could be when watching her son so clearly in love.

(“Thank you for making him so happy,” she’d said to Francesca a few nights ago, her voice thick with emotion.

Francesca had smiled, heart swelling, and replied just as softly, “Thank you for making him so perfect.”)

—

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 76,043 others

bookishgoldie my first christmas in australia 🇦🇺

view all comments

user1 soft launch soft launch soft launch

user21 HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CALM ABOUT THIS?????

user88 you actually went to australia? oh my god. im so proud of you. ♥ by bookishgoldie

user6 i know we’ve been seeing sm progress from her but this is crazy! GO FRANCESCA 📣

user76 yeah call me crazy for being able to tell from one picture, but that’s oscar piastri’s hand and i know that for a fact 🤡

user61 right like i recognise that vein

user76 GIRL RIGHT!!!!! 😭😭😭

user39 IS THAT A RING???????

bookishgoldie a promise ring 🫶

user76 OH IM FUCKINF JDJDJDNFJ

user39 ohmygodhdhdjf

user50 that is the cutest thing ever. so happy for u francesca ♥ by bookishgoldie

oscarpiastri 🎄🎁☀️

user81 what the fuck does that mean

user95 CAN SOMEONE SMARTER THAN ME DECODE THIS PLEASE

user72 first time he ever actually comments on one of her posts and it’s this??? OSCAR WTF

bookishgoldie 📚🎄🧘‍♀️

user81 oh ffs she’s just as bad as he is

user74 they’re so fucking annoying 😃

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Francesca

*picture of hand wearing ring*

he got me a promise ring

its perfect. i love it so much

Katie

Oh holy shit

I knew he was perfect for you but he keeps proving it

The ring is beautiful, babe. SO perfect for you.

Francesca

merry christmas, i love you and im so glad that ur my best friend

Katie

Merry Christmas, Fran. I love you so much <3333333

—

She had a panic attack in Melbourne airport.

It hit her just past customs. The flicker of fluorescent lights, the overwhelming movement of people weaving in every direction — it all closed in at once. Her chest tightened. The ground beneath her feet felt like it might disappear. Her knees felt weak.

She stopped walking. Her breath hitched. She felt acid rise in her throat, burning and painful and foul.

“Hey, hey,” Oscar murmured, already at her side, already shifting his body to shield her from everyone and everything around them. “You with me, baby?”

She shook her head, eyes wide, blinking fast. Her fingers trembled. She couldn’t breathe — at least, not the way her body was demanding. They came fast and gasping, her lungs burning with the effort.

Oscar’s hands found hers, warm and steady, his grasp on her tight. “Alright. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said gently, like they had all the time in the world. “Let’s do Dr. Kapoor’s thing, yeah? Just you and me. Nothing else matters right now.”

People were watching. They were staring at her. She could feel them. Hear them talking about her. She whimpered, shaking, trembling, and Oscar cursed under his breath and just… dropped his backpack on the ground between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest and resting his chin on her forehead, holding her tight, tight tight.

“Five in,” he said softly, against the top of her ear. “We’re just breathing now. That’s all. Ready? In... one, two, three, four, five.”

She inhaled shakily, trying to match him.

“Hold it for four. That’s it. Just like she showed us. And now — out for seven. Long and slow. You’re doing so good,” Oscar whispered. “You’ve got this, baby. You’ve done this before. You know that it works”

She nodded against his chest, barely, and her breathing eventually began to steady. Her shoulders loosened, and she let herself sink against him rather than standing stiff against him. His grip on her loosened, but he didn’t let her go.

“Almost home,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And you know who’s gonna be waiting for us?”

She managed a weak smile up at him. “Henry.”

“Exactly. Grumpy little man’s is going to be so excited to see us.”

She giggled wetly. “Yeah?”

Oscar hummed, a smile tilting his lips. “Of course he is. So we’ll take him home and we’ll order Thai, put on some terrible movie, and he’ll sit between us and get so much love. You’ll be in your comfies, I’ll make you as much tea as you want. Sound good?”

She looked up at him, eyes still glassy but grounded now. “Yeah,” she whispered. “That sounds really good. Perfect.”

“Alright then,” he smiled, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. He stepped back, graved her hand, pulled it to his lips, and brushed his lips against her ring. “Let’s go home.”

—

iMessage — Nicole & Oscar

Nicole

I love you both so much. Thank you for giving me the best Christmas in years. All of my babies under my roof, happy and healthy. It meant the world, Oscar.

Oscar

Love you mum. Text you when we land x

—

Curled up in her chair on the plane, noise cancelling headphones on, she turned and slid them off of her head when Oscar tapped her wrist with the back of his knuckles.

“Got you WiFi again,” he said, holding up his phone with a small grin. “You can edit your vlog, if you want. Or just scroll TikTok. Whatever you want.”

Francesca laughed quietly, touched in that quiet, full way she always was when he did things like this — small, thoughtful, kind, always without having to be asked. “You didn’t have to. I have, like, six new books to read.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging, “but you get that little crease between your brows when you’re stressed about not having a video ready to post, and it’s cute for about five seconds, and then it starts to stress me out.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was already pulling her laptop from her backpack and handing it to him with a flutter of her eyelashes and a ‘log me in, please?’

As she edited, he shifted beside her, reading through some sim feedback on his iPad but glancing over occasionally, watching the little preview box as clips of Christmas lunch, fairy lights, and soft-focus shots of the Christmas lights they’d driven out of town to see.

About halfway through the flight, with the video mostly stitched together, Francesca hesitated. Her fingers hovered over her trackpad.

Then, before she could lose her nerve, she clicked open a new tab, pulled up Pinterest, and navigated to a board. She stared at it for a second.

“Osc,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “can I show you something?”

He looked over instantly, setting his iPad down. “Course.”

She turned the screen toward him. Dozens of carefully saved pins filled the board — sun-washed balconies, neutral-toned kitchens, mismatched bookshelves, tiny espresso cups on marble counters, linen curtains blowing in from open windows. All nestled under the board title: Monaco Apartment.

For a beat, he didn’t say anything. Just looked.

“This is beautiful,” he said softly. “Is this…?”

She nodded, cheeks warming. “Just something I’ve been playing with. I don’t know if— I mean… I wanted you to see it. I think… If I can do this.” She gestured around them vaguely. “Then I— I think I can do that. Move. Be with you. By the water.”

Oscar smiled slowly, fully. “‘Cesca,” he murmured, “It’ll happen for us if that’s what you want. I’ll make it happen for us.”

She didn’t say anything at first — just looked at him, eyes a little glassy, the corners of her mouth curved into something soft and full of hope.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He reached over and tapped one of the pins — a small, sunlit reading nook tucked between two windows. “That one’s got your name all over it. We’ll put Henry’s bed right there.”

—

Back in London, the city muffled by rain and fog outside their window, they were tangled beneath the duvet, warm and quiet and exactly where they wanted to be. Henry was curled between their feet under the sheets, a content little loaf of fur radiating sleepy heat. Francesca's head rested on Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes over the fabric of his T-shirt.

“It’s only been eight months,” she said quietly, her voice somewhere between awe and disbelief. “Since we started talking. Eight months.”

Oscar shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Best eight months of my life,” he murmured, then paused. “I was gonna message you sooner, you know?”

She looked up at him, brow lifting in surprise. “Really?”

He gave a sheepish little smile, one shoulder twitching against the pillow. “Yeah. Ages ago, actually. You posted something about baking cupcakes and always wearing mismatched socks and I thought, yep, I’m in trouble. But I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to come off weird.”

“You? Weird?” she teased, her voice soft and fond.

“I know,” he said, grinning. “Wild, right?”

They lapsed into comfortable silence again, the kind that didn’t need filling. Just the hum of the city beyond the window, the soft rise and fall of breath, Henry sighing in his sleep.

She pushed closer to him, nudging her head into his neck. “I want to go to the FIA Gala with you.” She whispered against his skin.

Oscar stilled. It was subtle — just a fraction of a second — but she felt it. The faint pause in his breathing. The slight shift of his hand on her hip. It wasn’t disapproval. It wasn’t doubt in her. It was… fear, maybe. Concern. The protective kind.

But he didn’t verbalise it.

He would never be the one to tell her what she could or couldn’t handle. Never be the one to limit her.

Instead, he reached for his phone on the bedside table, still half buried under the covers, and turned the screen on with a lazy swipe.

“I’ll let Zac know I’ll be bringing a plus one,” he said, then leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering like he wanted the words to sink straight into her skin. “I love you. You’re incredible, ‘Cesca.”

She smiled against his chest, letting the weight of him, of those words, settle around her. Her heart beat steady and sure, tethered to the sound of his.

“Love you too,” she whispered.

And even with Henry purring softly at their feet, even with the grey London sky pressing against the windows, her mind was already slipping forward — imagining the bright flash of cameras, the hum of a crowd, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. The noise. The nerves. The rush of it all.

She wouldn’t be standing on the outside looking in.

She’d be there — with him. His partner. His biggest fan.

His Francesca.

—

The flat was warm, filled with the soft clatter of pots and pans and the distant sound of premature fireworks echoing somewhere nearby. From the living room, the low hum of the TV drifted into the kitchen, a comforting sort of background noise.

Oscar stood at the stove, sleeves pushed up, utterly focused. They were having lasagna and garlic bread — the fancy kind he’d ordered from a private chef instead of just grabbing it from Tesco like they normally would. Francesca sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter in a McLaren hoodie and black leggings, sipping wine and watching him with quiet affection.

No doubt he’d try to sneak a pile of green leaves onto her plate. She’d roll her eyes and grumble, but she’d eat them anyway — just to get him to shut up about it.

Henry sat nearby in his ridiculous little New Year’s bow tie, looking more dressed up than both of them combined. Oscar said he looked like a distinguished gentleman. Francesca said he looked bloody stupid — and painfully cute.

By the time the countdown started on the TV, they were full of carbs and tangled together on the couch, buried beneath a heap of blankets. Henry, having fought a long and noble battle with his bow tie, had finally torn it off and was now snoring in the crook of Francesca’s knees.

As the final seconds ticked down, Oscar reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“This time last year, I didn’t know you,” he said.

She turned to him, eyes soft and shiny. “Osc…” she whispered.

“Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

And when the clock hit midnight, he kissed her — slow and deep, with so much love behind it she felt it pulse through her like a second heartbeat.

Later, he pulled her into bed, and they welcomed the first hour of 2024 in a haze of pleasure. Soft moans. Back arches. Fingers gripping skin. His voice against her neck, low and growled; “Fuck, ‘Cesca.”

Afterward, she lay sprawled across his chest, their skin damp, her fingertips drawing idle lines back and forth across him.

“I think this is going to be a good year for us, Osc,” she murmured.

He tightened his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her hair, and said softly, “Let’s just start with a bath.”

She giggled — tired, happy, a little breathless. Then she let him scoop her up without protest, her arms winding around his neck as he carried her toward the bathroom, their bodies still warm and uncoiled.

For now, the rest could wait. The year could wait. All that mattered was this — soft light, shared warmth, and the quiet, reverent promise of forever.

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 98,413 others

bookishgoldie so much to look forward to in 2024 🎊

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oscarpiastri happy new year🥰 ♥ by bookishgoldie

user87 happy new year!!!! 🥳

user71 HAPPY NEW YEAR

user76 omg the mclaren lego AND the mclaren like ????? AND OSCAR BEING THE FIRST COMMENT LMAO

user14 their hardlaunch is going to be sooooo slay

user30 like we all know they’re together we’re just waiting for them to confirm it atp😭😭

user72 miss girl spent xmas in australia. they’re together together

katiebird happy new year, my lovely best friend!!!! so much excitement for us in 2024 ❤️

bookishgoldie so glad to have you in my life

user65 nobody talking about francesca literally posting (almost) a full face pic🥹🥹🥹 feel like a proud big sister rn

CHAPTER EIGHT

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urmommysfavkisserrr · 29 days ago

Text

Sin Of Sunshine.

°•☆•° - Paige Bueckers x Ex-Wife Reader (Brazilian)

°•☆•° - No matter how long and stressful her day had been, she knows she could always come back home to you, even if you look like a goddamn sin in the sunshine.

°•☆•° - I’m procrastinating the new series, and I wanted to play around with this little family some more soooo. lowkey hate how this ended. like a lot.

°•☆•° - 3213 words,

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

Paige couldn’t remember the last time her body felt this tired, but she knew she couldn’t deny it. Her bones felt like they were made of lead, her muscles like jelly, ready to give in and fall to the ground at any given second.

The added ten minutes to her drive home didn’t help at all. There were multiple moments where she’d stop at a red light and zone out so hard that the cars behind her would honk when it turned green again, but the second she walked into the house, it was all worth it.

The smell hit her first.

Warm vanilla wafting through the entryway from what she noticed was coming from a candle she had gotten you back in college for a birthday, and an added hint of oranges from what she could have guessed was from a diffuser.

Then the sounds.

Zahria’s giggles and breathless words as she tried to speak in your native language of Portuguese, with an added melody of some random song in the background, and your gentle corrections.

And as she followed the sounds down the hall and into the kitchen, she found the sight that made every ache in her bones worth it. She’d take every ounce of pain humanly possible if it meant she could come home to this every damn day.

Zahria sat criss-cross on the island counter, hunched over a stack of notebooks. Most of them were homework from school, the others were homemade packets you had made for her to help her learn more about where you came from. It was an obsession that started when she was five and heard you speak in something that wasn’t English, but it made her heart feel warm.

Zolani was sitting in one of the four bar stools, hands playing with some odd purple sand that Paige had yet to figure out. The occasional lisped word falling from her lips as she’d try and repeat something that Zahria had just said in Portuguese.

And then there was you. Your back to Paige and the rest of the house as you stood behind Zolani. Carefully working product into her damp curls and braiding it good enough to not have to be dealt with for at least a week.

You were in a plain burnt orange dress. Spaghetti straps, thigh slit, ruffled and dropped bodice. The same dress that your sister had given you after cleaning out her closet over a year ago.

Simple nude heels and gold jewelry. Stacks of it on every place where it could be put, your ears, neck, wrists, fingers, hell, you even had an ankle bracelet.

Your hair was down and in your natural curls, the style Paige loved so much that she spent days watching you do your routine just so she could do it for you when you were too tired.

Even your nails were done. Plain nude with gold chrome tips that shone in the right lighting. Something Paige had insisted you get done at least once a month after she saw you eyeing down some cheap ass press-ons in CVS one night. That was a big no in her books.

The blonde made her way to the far end of the island first, hands slowly slinking around the small body propped up in the high chair. Messy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a gummy smile beamed up at the blonde the second the baby realized it was Paige holding him.

Andre Thomas Bueckers.

Andre after your older brother, and Thomas from Paige’s little brother. The one-year-old was a carbon copy of Paige and her ride-or-die partner in crime.

“Ah-Ah!” The boy babbled, hands clapping together before reaching out to touch the blonde's cheeks.

The sound also alerted the three other girls to the new figure in the room, which ended up echoing into a blend of “Mommy!”, “Mommy’s home!”, and “Don’t ruin your hair, Zo!”

You sighed as the kids ran to swarm Paige, arms crossed as you leant your hip into the counter, head slightly cocked. You couldn’t help the small smile that curled on your lips at the sight, even if you knew your last hour of work on Zolani’s hair would get messed up.

Paige knelt with Andre still in her arms and resting on her left hip. Zahria stood on her right, hands on her shoulder, while Zolani stood in front of her, babbling on about something with her lisp.

Zolani jumped up and down, her little arms waving by her sides as a wide smile took over her face, minus the two missing front teeth. “Mommy! Look! I lost my other tooth! Mama said I might get money from the Tooth Fairy if I go to sleep early tonight.”

“Mama’s right, babe. The Tooth Fairy only comes to see good little girls and boys, and only if you’re asleep.” Paige responded softly, using her free arm to gently grab Zolani’s to try and prevent her from accidentally hitting the baby or her sister before standing up.

“Go on, go back to Mama and let her finish your hair. I’m gonna go put little mister here in a clean diaper.”

The girl did as told, bounding back over to the island where you were and climbed back up into the chair, as Paige left the room and Zahria grabbed her packets and snuck up the stairs, most likely to her room. “Mommy said I had to let you finish my hair.”

“Did she now?” You hummed with a small smirk as you picked up the comb and gel once again.

Zolani nodded, crossing her arms with a huff. Something she claimed ‘helped her focus’, aka, just kept her from reaching out for other things to fidget with. “Mhmm. I wanna show her my pigtails.”

Your smirk immediately fell, along with your hands that dropped to your sides. “Pigtails? No, mama, we’re doing braids.”

The six-year-old had never spun around to face you faster than she just did. Her little hands clamped onto the back of the chair as she shifted onto her knees. “No! I want Piggys Mama!”

A deep sigh fell from your lips, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand, the same hand that held the comb. “Babe, come on, we’ve talked about this already. If we do the braids, which I already started, then we don’t have to worry about it in the morning.”

“Piggys.”

“Zo.”

“Piggys.”

“Eu juro por Deus, eu vou machucar essa criança.” (I swear to god, I’m going to kill this child.)

“Mommy likes my curls, Mama!”

That earned another sigh from you, this one much more saddened yet understanding. “Is that what this is about? Mommy liking your hair?”

“...I just want her to smile at me.” Seeing that look in your youngest daughter's face broke something inside of you, your heart, maybe your soul.

You moved from behind the chair to the side of it, kneeling to be more level with Zolani. Your hand softly resting on her knee. “Baby, Mommy will always smile at you, she loves you. You’re the light of her life, just like your sister and brother are, okay? Mommy will like whatever you want to do with your hair. So, what do you wanna do?”

Zolani sat there for a second, eyes drifting to the messy pile of purple sand as the thoughts worked through her brain, and you let her. “The braids.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Cuz then I can have more playtime in the morning.” Zolani nodded firmly, that all too familiar sass coming back to the front.

“That’s right, baby.” You hummed as you stood back up, moving to stand behind the chair once again and finally get these braids finished.

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

It was later that night, after all the kids got put to bed. A soft, golden glow floated through the house that lit everything up as if it came down from heaven itself.

You stood in front of the sink, washing up the containers from the kids' lunches and any leftover dishes that couldn’t go in the dishwasher. Still in the same dress, same everything.

Your mind zoned out to the point of being locked in on what's in front of you, but unable to hear anything around you, a song you heard hours earlier on the radio playing over and over as if it was playing out loud.

And from the kitchen entryway, Paige swore she was about to bust.

She has no idea how long she’s been standing there, just watching you.

It’s creepy, yeah, but you were like a drug to her. Like a parasite in her brain. Like that dumb mouse from that kids' movie Zolani loved to watch, where he controlled the guy by pulling his hair.

The way you stood in that direct stream of glowing sunlight, like it didn’t bother you, the way it lit up every inch of your skin, your hair, your jewelry. It made you look like you didn’t even belong in this cruel world, like you were carved from marble and coated in gold.

Yeah, Paige was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Hands sliding around your waist from behind is what brought you back to the present, a warm face nuzzling into your neck as your body leaned back into Paige’s without a second thought. The plastic plate slid from your hands back down into the soapy water.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, Mommy.”

The blonde huffed, her hands sliding to rest over your stomach as she placed soft kisses on your neck. “How’re you feeling?”

You hummed, a smirk crawling up onto your lips. “You do know I had the baby a year ago already, right? You don’t have to fuss over me anymore.”

Paige did not like that.

She brought her hands back to your hips before gently turning you around so now you faced her, and your back was to the sink. “I do. I do have to fuss over you. I want to fuss over you. I did with Zahria, with Zolani, with Andre, and I plan to do it again if we ever have another one, and until the day we die.”

Your head tilted with a knowing look, “You just like seeing me pregnant.”

And the blonde couldn’t deny your words. “That...I do. Yeah.”

“Mhm.”

She squeezed your hips to get your attention back on her, “But I also enjoy seeing you happy. I love watching you glow, Ma.”

You huffed, “Glow?”

“Mhmm.” Her hands roamed over your sides, eyes darting down to trace along your body before looking back up at you. “You glow when you’re happy, Mama, and god is it a sight. I’d die to see it forever.”

A soft laugh fell from your lips as you leaned forward, hands sliding from the blonde's shoulders to wrap around her neck as your head landed on her chest. “You’re so sappy.”

“For you I am.” And she tightened her hold on you, keeping you there for a beat before pulling back to eye you up and down again.

Her eyes dancing over every inch of you, like she wanted-no, needed to commit it to memory. “Also, this fucking dress? Shit, Ma. Where you been hidin’ this shit, huh?”

Your lips curled, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks. “You like it?”

“Like it? Fuck, baby, I fucking love it. You look fuckin’ good. My god.” Paige couldn’t tear her eyes away from you.

You laughed again, louder and more genuine. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Nah, I’m turned the fuck on.” The blonde shamelessly admited, her eyes lingering on your boobs and hips, even your stomach. Part of her wondered what the dress would look like had you worn it a year ago, while you were still carrying Andre.

“Paige!”

She huffed, her gaze finally moving back up to look at you, after another lingering glance at your tits. “What? I’m serious. I’ve had the worst fuckin’ day, and I had to prepare myself to deal with screaming kids the whole drive here, yet when I walk in they’re all smiles and laughs and then there you are looking like a goddamn sin.”

“You say that about everything I wear.”

“Cuz it’s fuckin’ true. You could be wearing nothin’ and i’d still wanna fuck you down.”

A shocked laugh bubbled out of you, your hand swatting at her chest. “Oh my god- Paige, I just had a baby.” “So what?” The blonde just scoffed, like that would have no effect on her and what she wanted to do to you.

“So…I look different now.” You spoke hesitantly, that hint of insecurity flashing behind your eyes as you did.

Paige noticed, she always did.

She shook her head, hands tightening on your waist before loosening again. She knew the last thing you needed in this moment was to feel trapped, so she made sure her grip was loose enough that you could slip away if you wanted.

“Nah, fuck that. You look good, so fuckin’ good. Fuck, baby, I could do so many things to you right now. I don’t care about none of that baby weight bullshit. You don’t feel pretty? I’ll fuckin’ remind you. I’ll do it all day, every day, till you believe it.”

She knew you didn’t fully believe her, you never did, but that’s okay. Because she was going to make sure you understood that you knew how she saw you, and that's all that mattered.

“You looked beautiful before any of the kids, you looked beautiful after Zahria, after Zolani, even after Andre. Baby, you’re the most fucking stunning girl i’ve every laid eyes on, I swear on my fucking life.”

“Paige..”

Paige shook her head, grabbing her hand and already starting to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “Nah, come on. Upstairs. I’m gonna show you how fucking beautiful you are.”

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

“You still with me, baby?”

Paige’s voice was the first thing that pulled you out of your blissful stupor, her now cool hands against your heated body being the second. “Hm?”

“I asked if you were with me, here on earth.” Her voice was soft, soothing. Almost guiding you back to that blissed out place, had you not wanted to hear more of it.

“...mhm.” You hummed out through slightly parted lips and closed eyes.

She laughed softly, her hands sliding up from your thighs to your hips, then waist, then the sides of your ribs. “You sure about that, Mama? You’re spacin’ on me.”

After a beat, you finally opened your eyes. Lazily blinking up at the blonde above you. Your words loose and heavy. “Just…feels good.” Paige’s lips curled, one of her hands moving to press into the sheets to hold herself up while the other gently brushed your hair away from your face. “Yeah? I bet it does. That’s what happens when we use our words and say what we want.”

You grumbled at the cockyness in her tone, your eyes slipping shut once again as your lips curled to a pout. “Shhh…”

“No, no. Hey, no. Stay with me, Mama. I gotta get you cleaned up, hm? You wanna get in the bath?” She tapped your cheek, not hard, just enough to break that sleepy daze you were in.

Your brows furrowed as your lips curled into a faint pout, “Wanna cuddle...”

“We can, we will. We just gotta get you cleaned up first, okay? Just stay there and look pretty for me, try to stay awake, okay?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, eyes still closed, and lips still pouted.

Paige softly huffed at your actions, her hand patting your hip once before she carefully got off the bed and padded into the bathroom. “Keep bein’ a good girl for me, yeah? You’re doin’ so good, baby.”

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

You very much failed at being a good girl, because the next thing you remember was your eyes fluttering open as you were being lowered down into the tub full of warm water. Paige’s body carefully sliding in behind you. “Hmm..”

“Hey, there you are. Welcome back, baby.”

“Hi..” You mumbled, body melting back into the blonde’s front as your head fell to her shoulder.

Paige left soft and warm kisses on your jaw and cheek, her hands rubbing your hips and upper thighs. “You feel okay, baby? Was it too much?”

“Hmm...a little, but it was good. M’good. S’good.” Your eyes softly fluttered shut once again, just soaking in the moment.

Paige’s touch grew a little firmer at that. “You shoulda said somethin’, Ma. I woulda stopped, or slowed down. You know that.”

You faintly nodded against her shoulder, “I know…I know, but it was good. I liked it, needed it.”

“Oh. You needed it, hm?”

You could hear the smirk on her lips and the cockiness in her tone. “Mhmm...”

“You needed a reminder, or to feel good?” Her hands resumed their movements up and down your sides.

You hummed, “Both. A reminder, and to feel good. To just..let go ‘n trust for a little bit.”

Paige’s face softened at that, and so did her touch. “You can always trust me, baby. You know that, right?”

Hearing the hidden fear and vulnerability in Paige’s voice made your heart twist. You turned your head just slightly, enough to press a kiss on her jaw and leave your lips there as you spoke.

“No, I know, I do. It’s just..” You sighed. “Zolani has been on this...kick...lately. Everything she does, she thinks about how it’ll affect you, how it’ll make you feel, if you’ll like it. She’s scared, P.”

Her head tilted, “Of what?”

Your eyes blinked open and landed on the blonde, looking up at Paige the best you could from the odd angle. “You. She thinks that if she does something wrong, you’ll leave again. That it’ll be her fault, again.”

Paige’s brows immediately furrowed, her body tensing. “What? Why would she think that?”

You sighed, guilt lacing every inch of your voice and face. “Zahria and I. We’d both talk about you. She’d see pictures. Eventually, she asked, and we told her. I explained how she wouldn’t remember you, cuz she was two when we split, and she was too young to remember when you’d still pick them up. So she thought you left because of her.”

“Oh…sweet girl...” Paige’s lips parted as she took everything in, her eyes trained on a single tile on the bathroom wall.

You hummed in acknowledgment, rolling your head to look up at the ceiling instead of Paige as you let the blonde think everything over. “She just started it after you moved in.”

Paige’s voice dropped to a whisper as the pieces started clicking together, everything suddenly making sense. “That’s why she’s been so moody.”

Your lips quirked up just slightly as you thought about your earlier conversation with your daughter, then they dropped back down. “She wants to ‘see you smile at her.’ Her words, not mine.”

“I do smile at her.” Was the last thing you heard before you slipped out again, the mix of the bath and Paige’s body against yours was enough to put you right to sleep.

“She’s my light, and you’re my world.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #paigebueckers #paige bueckers #uconn womens basketball #uconn wbb #wbb #wlw

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yndrgrl · 1 year ago

Text

your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

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zeroseuniverse · 4 months ago

Text

Seventeen’s Reaction to Their Partner Visiting Them at Work

S.Coups – Forces Himself to Take a Break Because of You

He’s been running on fumes, barely taking a breath between tasks. The second you step in, his tired eyes soften, but he shakes his head. "You shouldn’t be here," he says, though there’s zero conviction in his voice. You cross your arms. "You also shouldn’t be working yourself to death." Next thing he knows, you’ve dragged him to the couch, forcing a meal into his hands. He sighs but leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder. "Five minutes," he mumbles. (He doesn’t move for an hour.)

Jeonghan – Pretends He’s Busy but Secretly Loves the Distraction

When you walk into the studio, Jeonghan doesn’t even look up. "Babe, I’m so busy—" You raise an eyebrow. "Really?" You gesture to his phone, where he was definitely playing a game. Caught. He grins mischievously. "Well… maybe not that busy." He tugs you down next to him, tossing his phone aside. "Since you’re here, wanna help me procrastinate properly?"

Joshua – Grateful You Came to Save Him from Overworking

Joshua’s deep in focus, humming to himself as he tweaks a melody for the hundredth time. He barely notices you until you place a cup of coffee on the desk. "You need a break," you say softly. He sighs but smiles, setting his guitar down. "I really do, huh?" Pulling you into his lap, he rests his forehead against yours. "Guess I have no choice but to listen to my very smart, very beautiful partner."

Jun – Dramatic & Instantly Clings to You

The second he sees you, he dramatically drops his pen. "Oh, thank god. You’re here to save me!" You laugh. "From what? Work?" "Yes!" He immediately wraps his arms around you. "I was about to die of boredom." You shake your head. "Jun, you’re literally working on choreography—" "Exactly! Too much thinking, not enough you time." He grins. "Now, let’s go get snacks before anyone notices I’m missing."

Hoshi – Pretends He Doesn’t Need a Break but Melts When You Insist

Hoshi’s practically bouncing off the walls, practicing a routine for the tenth time. He doesn’t hear you come in, but when he finally notices, he stops mid-move. "Babe!" He jogs over, already sweaty. "What are you doing here?" You hold up a water bottle. "Making sure you actually drink something before you collapse." He grins sheepishly but still protests, "I was fine—" "Sit." With a dramatic sigh, he flops onto the floor, resting his head against your legs. "Fine. But only because you’re cute."

Wonwoo – Silent but Loves the Help

Wonwoo barely acknowledges you at first, fully immersed in his laptop. But when you quietly start organizing his scattered papers, he finally glances up. "You don’t have to do that," he murmurs. You shrug. "I want to." A slow smile spreads across his face. He pulls you down beside him, resting a hand on your knee. "Thanks for being here." Later, when he’s done, he quietly thanks you again—this time with a soft kiss.

Woozi – Grumpy but Lowkey Soft

When you walk into the studio, Woozi groans. "If you’re here to tell me to stop working—" "Relax, I came to help." You sit beside him, scanning the music sheet. "Need a fresh pair of ears?" He hesitates, then sighs. "Yeah, actually." As you listen, giving small feedback, he watches you from the corner of his eye, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "You’re dangerous," he mutters. You blink. "Huh?" He shakes his head. "You make me wanna quit work early."

DK – Excited but Definitely Gets Distracted

"Y/N!" DK grins the second he spots you, nearly tripping over himself to reach you. "You’re here!" You hold up a takeout bag. "Brought dinner. Thought you could use some fuel." He gasps dramatically. "Are you an angel?" You roll your eyes, but when he pulls you into a tight hug, you can feel just how exhausted he is. "Eat first, then you can be dramatic."

Mingyu – Overworked Puppy Who Needs Your Help

When you arrive, Mingyu’s surrounded by chaos—half-eaten food, notes everywhere, and a very overwhelmed look on his face. You sigh. "Mingyu, what is happening?" He looks up with big eyes. "Help?" You shake your head but start cleaning up, helping him sort through his mess. He watches you with pure adoration. "I don’t deserve you," he says, taking your hand dramatically. You laugh. "No, but you do need me."

The8 – Calm but Clearly Relieved

Minghao’s hyper-focused, barely glancing up as you enter. "Give me five minutes, babe." Instead of leaving, you quietly sit beside him, taking over small tasks to help him finish faster. Eventually, he sighs and leans into you. "I didn’t even have to ask, and you just knew what I needed." You smile. "That’s what I’m here for." His fingers lace with yours. "I think I’m in love."

Seungkwan – Dramatic Until You Actually Help

He groans loudly the second he sees you. "Y/N! This job is killing me!" You laugh. "Okay, okay, what do you need help with?" He blinks. "Wait. You’re actually helping?" Once he realizes you're serious, he softens, quietly watching you work beside him. After a while, he nudges you. "You know, I was mostly joking, but… this is nice." He then grins. "Though, if you want to keep spoiling me, I won’t complain."

Vernon – Nonchalant but Loves the Company

He barely reacts when you enter, just nodding. "Hey." You sit beside him, waiting. After a few minutes, he passes you a paper. "Can you double-check this for me?" You smirk. "So you do want my help?" He shrugs. "I mean, you’re here. Might as well put you to work." Later, when he finishes, he casually slings an arm around you. "Thanks for sticking around."

Dino – Shy But Excited You Came

His whole face lights up. "You came to see me?" "Of course," you say. "Need help finishing up?" He nods quickly, handing you some notes. As you work together, he keeps stealing glances at you, his cheeks slightly pink. Later, when he walks you out, he shyly says, "This was… really nice. Come again?" You smile. "Only if you promise to take actual breaks next time." Dino grins. "Deal."

400 notes · View notes

wheeboo · 9 months ago

Text

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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