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kiszjuli · 4 months ago

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𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ──── [𝐋.𝐃𝐇] 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

( 이동혁 ) ; 𝐟𝐞𝗺!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝗼𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐜𝐤

──── in which your parents had always told you to stay away from boys like haechan. boys with cocky smirks, black eye liner, bruised knuckles, and a reputation that came with warning labels. you never had a reason to listen until you were assigned to tutor him after school. it should have been simple. help him pass, get it over with. but there’s something about him that drew you in, and you didn’t want to pull away.

✦ drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish). forbidden love? ; tags. goodgirl!reader x badboy!haechan, suggestive, your parents are literal jerks, swearing, mentions of fighting, kissing !!, protective!haechan, corruption? but not really, lmk if i missed any ! ;

𓂃 w.c [ 15.3k / 22.7k ]

!! not proofread !!

▸ j.note ; i hadn’t planned on making this fic so long but emo haechan does something to me i guess. also pls pls give feedback i want to improve my writings in the best way possible and i know my writing needs a lot of work, so constructive criticism is encouraged.

▸ this is part one of two and part two can be found here .ᐟ

you had never been the type to chase trouble.

your life had always been structured, predictable, mapped out like a perfectly folded brochure of all the things you were supposed to be. the good daughter. the responsible student. the girl who never gave anyone a reason to worry.

your parents raised you with expectations as solid as the fence that surrounded your house. good grades, early curfews, polite smiles at dinners. you were the kind of girl who double-checked her answers before turning in a test, who texted home before she was even late, who never spoke back even when she wanted to.

it wasn’t that you minded. not really.

your life was safe—comfortable.

weekends were spent with the same close friends, at the same coffee shop on the corner, drinking the same latte every time and reviewing notes for exams that were still weeks away. after school, you went straight home, sometimes stopping by the bookstore if you had extra time, flipping through pages of novels where the main characters lived lives far more reckless than your own.

and you liked it that way. you liked knowing where you belonged, knowing exactly what came next.

because trouble was for other people. rule-breakers, risk-takers. the kind of people who never thought twice about consequences. people who didn’t care.

the kind of people like him. lee donghyuck—or as he preferred to be called, haechan.

lee donghyuck had always been a name whispered in the hallways, wrapped in either amusement or warning. he was the boy who skipped class but somehow still seemed to do well, the boy who wore silver rings on his fingers, black eyeliner and bruises on his knuckles, the boy who flirted with everyone but never let anyone close.

he was reckless in a way that made people watch him like a fire they couldn’t look away from.

and you? you were the girl who had spent her whole life avoiding flames.

—

science had always been your best subject.

there was something reassuring about it—formulas that always worked, reactions that could be predicted, rules that never changed. if you followed the steps, you got the right answer. it was logical. reliable.

but not everyone saw it that way.

from the back of the classroom, haechan let out a quiet sigh, loud enough that a few students glanced his way. he was slouched over his desk, barely pretending to take notes, the end of his pen tapping lazily against his open textbook.

“can anyone explain why increasing the concentration of reactants speeds up a chemical reaction?” the teacher asked.

your hand went up without hesitation.

“because a higher concentration means more particles in the same space,” you answered. “so there’s a greater chance of collisions between them.”

“correct,” your teacher said, nodding approvingly.

from the corner of your eye, you caught movement. haechan had lifted his head just enough to glance in your direction, his gaze slow and assessing. when you turned to meet it, he didn’t look away, but just studied you, the corner of his lips twitching like he was in on some joke you weren’t part of.

your teacher moved on, scribbling equations across the board, but haechan didn’t so much as pretend to care. he stretched, tipping his chair back onto two legs, hands folded lazily over his stomach, like he was just waiting for the bell to save him from all of this.

you turned back toward the front, exhaling through your nose. it annoyed you, yet you didn’t know why.

it didn’t matter, it had nothing to do with you.

he didn’t matter.

or at least, that’s what you had always thought until today.

—

you were halfway through packing your books when you heard your name.

“could you stay back for a moment,” your teacher said, just as the last bell rang.

you paused, glancing up as students shuffled past your desk, their conversations blending into white noise. you couldn’t think of a single reason you’d need to stay—your grades were perfect, your assignments were always on time, and you definitely didn’t cause any trouble.

but then the teacher said another name.

“donghyuck, you too.” you heard him correct the teacher of his name under his breath.

your fingers curled around the thick textbook you were shoving in your bag.

he was slouched at his desk, twirling a silver ring around his finger, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. it took him a second to react, but when he did, it was with an exaggerated sigh, dragging himself upright like even this was too much effort.

the classroom emptied around you until it was just the three of you, the weight of the silence settling in as the teacher folded her arms over her desk.

“haechan,” she started, “you’re failing. if you don’t pass your next exam, you’re going to have to repeat this class. and you know what that means.”

he leaned back on the closest desk to the teacher’s, completely unfazed, crossing his arms. “that i get the pleasure of spending another semester with you?”

your teacher didn’t so much as blink. “it means you will not graduate with your class. you need this credit.”

that got a reaction. his arms uncrossed as haechan’s smirk slipped, just slightly.

“which is why,” she continued, turning to you, “you’re going to tutor him.”

your mouth parted slightly. “wait—”

“you’re the top of this class,” she cut in, before you could protest. “if anyone can help him pass, it’s you.”

you swallowed. the request made sense—on paper. but logic didn’t stop the heat of his gaze as it flickered toward you, as he finally seemed to take you in.

slowly, he let his eyes drag up and down, taking his time.

your unwrinkled clothes. your neatly done hair. the way you clutched your bag like it was a lifeline.

his lips curled at the edges, something amused, something almost lazy, and yet, you felt it. the weight of being looked at like that.

“seriously?” he drawled, tilting his head, eyes still on you. “her?”

your spine straightened. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smiled like he’d already won. “nothing, sweetheart.”

your teacher exhaled sharply, already tired of him. “this isn’t optional. you’ll meet and study together, and if i hear that you’ve skipped even once, i will not hesitate to let you keep your failing grade. understood?”

haechan sighed, tipping his head back like this was the greatest inconvenience of his life. then, with the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips, he muttered, “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

you could already tell. this was going to be impossible.

—

you walk out of the classroom first, stepping a little harder than intended. this wasn’t how you planned to spend your semester. tutoring some guy who didn’t even try, who slouched in his seat like he was too good for all of it, who looked at you like you were something to be amused by.

the hallway was mostly empty now, students already heading home or to their next activities. you were almost free, when a voice called out behind you.

“so, tutor, when do we start?”

you didn’t stop walking. “the library. after school tomorrow.”

haechan caught up easily, his pace unhurried, like this was all some joke to him. “ugh, the library?” he groaned. “how predictable.”

you glanced at him, unimpressed. “where else are we supposed to study? a convenience store?”

“actually, yeah.” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shooting you a smirk. “sounds more fun. we could get snacks. maybe a drink. aren’t tutors supposed to motivate their students?”

you exhaled sharply. he’s messing with you. you knew it, and yet, somehow, he still got under your skin.

“you don’t need motivation,” you said flatly. “you just need to study.”

“eh, debatable,” he mused. “i think what i need is a tutor who’s a little more flexible. less ‘strict teacher,’ more ‘cute classmate who wants to help me succeed.’”

you stopped walking.

haechan took a few more steps before realizing you weren’t next to him anymore. he turned, an eyebrow raised, just as you crossed your arms.

“okay, let’s get something straight,” you said, voice firm. “this isn’t a favor. i don’t want to tutor you, but i have to. and i don’t care if you think it’s boring or predictable, because it’s either this or you fail. so if you actually want my help, show up tomorrow. on time. otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

for a second, he just looked at you, head tilted like he was reevaluating something.

then, instead of answering, he let his gaze drag over you, slowly, like he was seeing you for the first time.

you stiffened under the weight of it, but refused to look away.

after a beat, he grinned.

“damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “you’ve got a little fire under all that perfection, huh?”

you huffed, turning on your heel. “just be there.”

“yes, ma’am.”

you ignored him.

but as you walked away, you could still feel his smirk and stare burning into your back.

—

you barely stepped through the front door before your mom called out from the kitchen.

“you’re home later than usual.”

you set your bag down by the entryway, slipping off your shoes. “the teacher kept me after class.”

that was enough to get both of your parents’ attention. your dad looked up from where he sat on the couch, while your mom leaned against the counter, a slight crease forming between her brows.

“for what?” she asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

you exhaled, already bracing yourself. “she assigned me to tutor someone. he’s failing, and she thinks I can help him pass.”

your dad hummed approvingly. “well, that’s nice of you. who is it?”

you hesitated for half a second.

“haechan.”

the shift in the room was immediate. your mom stilled, and your dad turned completely this time, exchanging a glance with her before turning back to you.

“him?” your mom repeated, her voice careful.

“yes, him.” you folded your arms. “why does it sound like you already know who he is?”

your dad sighed, setting the paper aside. “people talk, sweetheart. he’s got a reputation.”

you rolled your eyes. “so what? he slacks off in class?”

your mom pursed her lips. “it’s more than that. skipping school, getting into trouble, hanging around the wrong crowds…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “just—be careful around him, honey.”

there it was. the warning.

and, of course, the assumption that you couldn’t think for yourself.

you sighed, rubbing your temple. “i’m not hanging out with him. i’m tutoring him. in the library. with textbooks.” you glanced between them. “pretty sure that’s not a crime.”

your mom didn’t look convinced, and your dad only leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.

“just don’t let him pull you into anything,” he said. “kids like that don’t change.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, a flicker of irritation curling in your chest.

they made it sound like you were helpless. like the second you spent time with him, you’d suddenly throw your whole life away. everything you’ve built for yourself.

you shook your head. “it’s not that serious.”

and before either of them could say anything else, you grabbed your bag and headed for your room, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.

they were overreacting.

they didn’t know him.

and neither did you.

—

session one - monday february 23rd

the school day dragged.

it wasn’t any different from usual; classes, notes, the occasional group discussion, but today, there was a lingering awareness hanging over you. a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down to the inevitable.

you weren’t looking forward to tutoring haechan. but you had a job to do, and if he didn’t show, well… that was his problem, not yours.

by the time the final bell rang, you had already secured a table in the library, setting out your textbook, notebook, and a few highlighters. everything was neatly arranged. you had a plan, a structured breakdown of the material he needed to catch up on.

and yet, fifteen minutes passed.

then twenty.

you checked your phone, tapping your pen against your notes.

was he seriously going to ditch on the first day?

finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and then a familiar voice, drawling, “damn. you’re really taking this seriously, huh?”

you glanced up to see haechan standing there, hands in his pockets, looking completely unfazed. like he hadn’t just wasted almost half an hour of your time.

you exhaled sharply. “you’re late.”

“fashionably,” he corrected, dropping into the chair across from you.

you leveled him with a stare. “i don’t think that applies to studying.”

he shrugged. “guess we’ll find out.”

already, your patience was wearing thin. you pushed the textbook toward him, flipping to the section you had marked. “let’s start with reaction rates. you need to understand how—”

he wasn’t listening.

instead of looking at the notes, he was looking at you, head tilted slightly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“you always sit this straight?” he mused, tapping his pen against the table.

you blinked, looking up from the textbook. “what?”

“just saying. you’re sitting like you’re taking an exam or something.” he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “relax. tutoring’s not life or death.”

you ignored the heat creeping up your neck and flipped open your notebook instead. “can we focus?”

he hummed, like he was considering it. then, before you could continue, he leaned forward slightly, eyeing your arrangement of highlighters and pens.

“bet you highlight in, like, five different colors.”

you clenched your jaw. four, actually, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of being right.

when you didn’t respond, he grinned, undeterred. “does tutoring me ruin your whole ‘perfect student’ reputation?”

you inhaled slowly, gripping your pen a little tighter. “only if you fail,” you said flatly.

he let out a soft laugh, finally glancing at the textbook. “alright, alright. hit me with the science.”

you exhaled, pushing past your irritation. this was going to be a long session.

but one way or another, you were getting through to him.

—

the next hour closed and you left the library still irritated—but more at yourself than him.

why had your heartbeat picked up when he had leaned in? why had his teasing stuck in your head longer than necessary?

get a grip.

the school hallways were mostly empty by now, just a few stragglers grabbing things from their lockers or heading to practice. you stopped by your own locker, swapping out your books for what you needed, then headed outside.

the late afternoon air was crisp, the sky shifting into a soft orange glow. you walked home, already thinking about how you’d explain the session to your parents.

(you wouldn’t. you’d just tell them it happened and leave it at that.)

continuing your walk, barely making it past the school you hear a voice from behind you.

“yo, tutor.”

your head snapped up.

haechan. again.

he was leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, the same knowing smirk playing at his lips.

“we should celebrate.”

you frowned. “celebrate what?”

“me actually getting an answer right, obviously.” he straightened, stretching his arms behind his head. “c’mon, don’t be boring. you never just—i don’t know—do something on a whim?”

you had remembered the question he got right—which was simply the question you had answered yesterday in class. you narrowed your eyes. “if this is your way of trying to get out of studying next time—”

“relax.” he chuckled. “just messing with you. see you at our very serious study session next time, tutor.”

and with that, he strolled off like he hadn’t just left you standing there, your thoughts an even bigger mess than before.

—

session two - wednesday the 25th

you told yourself you wouldn’t get annoyed this time. you even mentally prepared for his usual antics before heading to the library.

it didn’t work.

haechan was late again. this time only by ten minutes, but still. he strolled in with an iced coffee in one hand, a lazy grin on his face like he hadn’t kept you waiting.

“you get extra credit for showing up on time, you know.”

“damn, should’ve known,” he drawled, sliding into the seat across from you. “maybe next time.”

you sighed, pushing the textbook toward him. “no distractions today.”

“that’s asking a lot.”

“it’s not.”

to your surprise, he actually made an effort. at least at first. he followed along as you explained reaction mechanisms, even nodded a few times like he understood. but the second things got even slightly complicated, he leaned back and groaned.

“why do i even need this? it’s not like i’m gonna be a scientist.”

“you need it to pass.”

“passing is overrated.”

“says the guy who’s literally failing.”

he just grinned, spinning his ring around his finger. “touché, sunshine.”

the nickname caught you off guard, making your stomach flip in a way that was foreign to you. whether he noticed your shift or not, he continued to use the name anytime he talked to you.

progress was slow, but you managed to get through two topics before he started messing around again, twirling his pen, asking dumb hypothetical questions that had nothing to do with chemistry.

“if i fail, do you fail too? since you’re my tutor?”

“no.”

“damn. no stakes for you then, huh?”

“just the overwhelming frustration of having to deal with you.”

“you wound me.” he clutched his chest dramatically, then smirked. “you sure you’re not starting to like our little sessions, though?”

you rolled your eyes. “go home, haechan.”

he laughed as he stood up, giving you a lazy salute before walking off.

session three - friday the 27th

miraculously, haechan was on time. but that didn’t mean he behaved.

“don’t look so shocked, tutor.” he plopped into his usual seat. “i can be responsible when i wanna be.”

“so, you just choose not to be?”

“exactly.”

today, he actually put in a little more effort, asking questions instead of just guessing his way through answers. you started to think, maybe this tutoring thing wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

and then, halfway through, he got bored.

“okay, pop quiz,” he said, snapping his book shut. “if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?”

you blinked. “we are not doing this.”

“come on, humor me.”

“fine,” you muttered, flipping through your notes. “something small. simple. maybe a quote.”

“predictable,” he teased. “what if i said i’d get your name tattooed?”

you shot him a deadpan look. “then i’d question all of your life choices.”

he laughed, drumming his fingers against the table. “nah, i’d get something cool. a dragon or something. or maybe—” he wiggled his brows. “a chemical equation, just for you.”

“how generous.”

“i try.”

somehow, even with the distractions, he managed to retain at least some of what you covered. as you packed up, he tapped his pen against the table.

“hey, sunshine.”

you glanced up, not missing his smirk at your responding to the name.

“don’t miss me too much over the weekend.”

“leave.”

he laughed all the way out the door.

session four - monday march 2nd

you were already exhausted from the start of the new week, and haechan wasn’t helping.

“mondays shouldn’t exist,” he grumbled, dropping into his chair.

while you agreed, you had to keep him focused. “you still have to study.”

“brutal.”

you launched straight into the material, ignoring his dramatic sighs and complaints about how unfair school was. surprisingly, he focused for a solid thirty minutes—until he caught you tapping your foot.

“you’re impatient today,” he observed, tilting his head.

“or maybe i just want you to actually learn something.”

“i am learning. look,” he pointed at an equation. “i even remember this one.”

you checked. he was right.

“wow,” you deadpanned. “you have a functioning brain after all.”

“careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

despite yourself, you bit back a smile.

the session ended with him actually completing the assigned questions, granted, after a lot of coaxing. as you packed up, he tapped the table again, just like last time.

“see you wednesday, sunshine.”

this time, you didn’t tell him to leave.

you did however, roll your eyes as he walked away, still grinning.

—

session five – wednesday the 4th

it was one of those days.

haechan was late—again. not by much, but enough to make you grit your teeth when he finally strolled in, a bag of chips in one hand, looking like he had nowhere better to be.

“don’t look at me like that, sunshine.” he smirked as he slid into his seat. “traffic was brutal.”

“you walk here.”

“damn. caught me.”

you inhaled sharply through your nose, pushing the worksheet toward him. “just start.”

he did. kind of.

five minutes in, he was tapping his pen against the table. ten minutes in, he was spinning his rings. fifteen minutes in, he was leaning back in his chair with a yawn.

“haechan,” you warned.

“hmm?”

“can you at least pretend to care?”

he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “depends. does it bother you?”

you shook your head. “whatever.”

“relax, sunshine.” he tilted his head. “you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

you ignored the way heat crept up your neck. “just answer the question.”

he glanced at it. “mm… ‘catalyst slows down a reaction.’”

you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. “no. it speeds up a reaction—”

“eh, close enough.”

“no, it’s not—” you cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. “are you even trying?”

“nah.”

that was it.

“then why the hell are we even doing this?”

he blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard. but you were already pushing back your chair, stuffing your notes into your bag with sharp, deliberate movements.

“if you fail, that’s your problem. not mine.”

you didn’t wait for a response. just walked out, leaving him sitting there—still smirking, but something in his expression had shifted.

session seven – monday the 9th

the session was supposed to be like any other. you’d prepared the material, you had everything set up, and you were expecting the usual. you didn’t expect haechan to show up on time—or at least not to show up with an actual sense of purpose.

he slung his bag over the chair and slumped down. his usual cocky grin wasn’t there.

“what’s wrong with you?” you asked, surprised at how… serious he seemed.

he didn’t answer right away, instead just staring at the notes in front of him with furrowed brows.

“this is dumb,” he muttered under his breath.

you raised an eyebrow. “what’s dumb? the concept? the subject? or… you?”

he flicked his eyes to you, but there was no usual smirk, just irritation. “all of it.”

you frowned. “this isn’t the usual ‘i don’t care’ routine. what’s going on?”

he didn’t meet your eyes, instead flicking through the textbook like he was hoping to find a way out of this.

“i just don’t get it,” he said, voice tight.

you sat back, eyeing him carefully. you were so used to him breezing through everything, acting like he didn’t care, so this sudden frustration was… different. it threw you off.

“you’ve got this. we’ve gone over it before.”

“yeah, well, it’s not clicking today,” he shot back, rubbing his temples like he was battling a headache.

you leaned forward, speaking more gently than usual. “haechan, this stuff isn’t hard. you just have to stop shutting down every time it gets tough.”

he looked at you for a long moment, eyes soft but frustrated. he clearly didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were right.

“i don’t shut down,” he muttered. “it’s just… everything else is easier. this? it feels like i’m failing at something i can’t even explain.”

you blinked, taken aback. haechan never let anything get to him, at least not this much.

“okay,” you said, shifting your tone to something a little more reassuring. “we can take it slow. i’ll help you through it.”

but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t just about the chemistry. there was something deeper in his frustration—something he wasn’t saying.

he sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. “maybe i just don’t get it because i’m not supposed to. i’m not like you, sunshine.”

“no, you’re not,” you said softly. “but i know you can get it. you have to try.”

there was a long silence between you, and for the first time in a while, you realized that your usual teasing, quick comebacks wouldn’t fix this.

haechan’s eyes met yours for a fleeting second, something raw in them. then, he sighed.

“this is stupid,” he muttered, but there was a softness to his voice. “i’ll try.”

and for once, you believed him.

—

days later, sunday dinner was quiet, just the soft clinking of utensils against plates and the low hum of the tv in the background. your parents had been giving you a look all evening. the kind that meant they had something to say but were waiting for the right moment.

you didn’t have to wait long.

“so,” your mom started, too casually. “how’s tutoring going?”

you didn’t even glance up from your plate. “fine.”

“fine?” your dad echoed. “that’s it?”

you shrugged, poking at your food. “what else is there to say?”

your mom set down her fork. “is he at least putting in effort?”

you huffed. “define effort.”

they exchanged a glance, the kind that made you feel like a kid again, like they already knew exactly what was going on.

“we just want to make sure he’s not wasting your time,” your dad said. “if he’s not serious about learning, you don’t have to keep doing this.”

“he’s… getting better,” you admitted, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. he was trying, in his own way, but it was a slow process.

your mom still looked unconvinced. “just be careful, sweetheart.”

you frowned. “careful?”

“boys like him…” she hesitated, choosing her words. “they can be a distraction.”

“he’s not a distraction,” you said immediately, but the way she raised an eyebrow made your stomach twist.

and then— “you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”

you nearly choked. “what? no. why would you even—?”

“because it happens,” your dad cut in, giving you a pointed look. “you spend enough time with someone, and next thing you know, you start making excuses for them.”

“i’m not making excuses.” you leaned back in your chair, suddenly desperate to get out of this conversation. “and i definitely don’t have a crush on him. it’s just tutoring. that’s it.”

they didn’t argue, but the look in their eyes said enough.

—

session ten – monday the 16th

you weren’t sure why your parents’ question was still echoing in your head. it was ridiculous, really. you didn’t have a crush on him. just because he was annoying, and cocky, and had that stupid smirk that made your stomach flip sometimes—no. not sometimes. never. it didn’t matter.

but still, as you walked into the library, setting your bag down at the usual table, you felt weirdly… off. distracted.

you pulled out your notes, trying to shake the thought, but haechan just had to say something.

“damn, sunshine. you look tense. bad day?”

you jumped slightly at his voice. he was standing next to you now, one hand gripping the chair as he spun it lazily before sitting down. he was late, as usual, but this time you hadn’t even noticed.

“fine,” you said quickly, focusing on your notes.

“you sure?” he tilted his head, leaning forward on the table. “you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

you did. but there was no way in hell you were going to tell him what.

“it’s nothing,” you said, too quickly. “let’s just get started.”

but as the session went on, you found yourself more distracted than usual. every time he leaned in, every time he ran a hand through his hair, every time he smirked at something that wasn’t even funny, you thought of your parents’ voices in your head.

“you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”

no. you weren’t. you refused to.

but then he tapped his pen against the table, glancing at you through his lashes. “you’re really off today, sunshine. what’s up?”

and maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was the fact that you hated how observant he could be, but you snapped.

“you. you’re up. why do you talk so much?”

he blinked, clearly not expecting that. then, he grinned. “because you like it.”

“i don’t.”

“liar.”

you groaned, running a hand down your face. this session was going to be impossible.

—

session twelve - friday the 20th

you had a feeling he wasn’t going to show up.

maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t texted all day—not that he ever really did, but usually, there was something. some offhand comment about how he was so tired or how he was mentally preparing for another “brutal” study session. but today? nothing.

still, you sat at the usual table, notes spread out, waiting.

and waiting.

until finally, you checked the time and realized it had been forty-five minutes.

you scoffed, shoving your notes back into your bag with more force than necessary. of course he wouldn’t show up. of course, he’d waste your time like this.

this was exactly why you didn’t like him.

not that you had to remind yourself. but things like this. his impulsiveness, his lack of reliability, the way he did whatever he wanted without considering anyone else, made it so much easier to not like him.

except, if that were really true, you wouldn’t be this pissed off.

you stormed out of the library, typing out a single text before shoving your phone deep into your pocket.

“seriously?”

no greeting. no unnecessary words. just that.

and when he didn’t respond, you told yourself you didn’t care.

even though, somehow, he was all you could think about for the rest of the night.

—

the weekend was quite eventful.

saturday -

you weren’t mad.

at least, that’s what you told yourself as you pulled out your laptop that morning, trying to focus on the essay you’d been putting off. it had nothing to do with him. nothing to do with the fact that he’d completely wasted your time yesterday. it wasn’t like you cared.

but when your phone lit up beside you, your heart jumped a little too fast. you grabbed it instinctively. only to see a notification from your bank about your spending this month.

you exhaled sharply, tossing your phone aside. see? you weren’t waiting for a text. because you weren’t expecting one. because you didn’t care.

still, you had to physically stop yourself from checking your messages every hour, and by the time the afternoon rolled around, you were in a terrible mood.

saturday night -

“so let me get this straight,” your friend, karina said, stirring her drink lazily. “he didn’t show up. didn’t text. and…now you’re mad about it.”

you scowled, leaning back in your chair. “i’m not mad.”

she raised an eyebrow. “you sure? cause you seem pretty mad.”

you crossed your arms. “i just don’t like when people waste my time. it’s inconsiderate.”

“right.” karina smirked, tilting her head. “but it’s weird, isn’t it? because you weren’t even this mad when you thought he wasn’t taking tutoring seriously. but now? now he misses one session, and suddenly, it’s a big deal?”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “that’s not the point.”

“mhm.” she sipped her drink, clearly unconvinced.

you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but as you stared down at your untouched food, a thought crept into your mind.

was she right?

sunday afternoon -

you spotted him before he saw you.

standing by the counter at the campus café, looking as unbothered as ever. hoodie slightly loose around his shoulders, rings glinting under the dim lighting as he scrolled through his phone.

he wasn’t avoiding you, then. because avoiding would at least mean he knew he did something wrong.

the irritation that had been simmering all weekend bubbled over. before you could think twice, you were already walking toward him.

“oh, hey, sunshine.” he glanced up as you stopped beside him, smiling like nothing had happened. “you look cute when you’re brooding.”

you didn’t waste time. “you didn’t show up.”

he shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “yeah. something came up.”

“something came up?” your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn’t care. “you could’ve at least said something.”

he leaned against the counter, studying you with an amused tilt of his head. “why? you miss me?”

your fingers curled into fists at your sides. because he was doing this on purpose. pushing, testing, waiting to see how much you’d react. and you hated that it was working.

“you’re unbelievable.” the words came out in a breath, laced with frustration.

and then you turned on your heel and walked away before you could say anything else you’d regret.

but the worst part? the absolute worst part?

he was still in your head, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.

—

session thirteen - monday the 23rd

for the next two weeks, you and haechan had to change locations as club was having their meetings in the library. you moved to a classroom near the library.

monday’s session wasn’t a disaster. in fact, it was almost… normal.

he showed up—five minutes late, but that was practically on time for him. he didn’t ignore the notes you laid out, didn’t spend the whole time spinning his rings or making dumb comments. he even answered a few questions correctly, which honestly shocked you.

“so you do pay attention sometimes,” you muttered when he got one right.

“wow, sunshine.” he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “say that again. maybe i’ll start believing you actually like having me around.”

you scoffed, underlining something in your notebook just to avoid looking at him. “don’t push it.”

he chuckled but didn’t push. and for the first time since this whole tutoring arrangement started, things actually felt… okay. he was still distracting, still teasing you every chance he got, still doing that infuriating thing where he leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. but at least he was trying.

and that was enough.

for now.

later that week, things changed.

session fifteen- friday the 25th

you were still in one of the school’s empty classrooms, finishing up some notes for yourself. it was already late when you heard the classroom door creak open.

too late for a tutoring session. too late for him to be here at all.

you looked up, expecting a janitor, maybe a teacher. instead, you saw him.

“oh my god.” your breath caught when you finally glanced up. “what happened to you?”

he looked…rough. a split lip, a bruise already blooming on his cheekbone, dried blood crusted near his eyebrow. his knuckles were bruising and stained with a little blood, like he’d been swinging at something—or someone.

“nothin’.” his voice was quieter than usual, the usual cockiness dulled by exhaustion. “just a bad night.”

“bad night? you look like you got your ass kicked.” you frowned, already standing. “who—why—”

“doesn’t matter.” he waved a hand, like he wanted to brush it off, but even that small movement made him wince.

you sighed, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag. “stay here.”

he didn’t argue as you left, and when you came back a few minutes later, first aid kit in hand, he still hadn’t moved. just sat there, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh, like he was waiting for the fight to start back up again.

but when you stood in front of him, tilting his face up slightly so you could dab at the cut on his lip, he stilled.

“you don’t have to do this,” he murmured.

“you don’t have to get into fights.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.

when you knelt beside him and took his hand in yours, he barely reacted, letting you clean the dried blood from his knuckles. his skin was warm under your touch, but you ignored that. just like you ignored the way his eyes were fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

for a while, there was only silence. the soft press of gauze against his skin, the quiet scrape of your nails as you brushed away the dried blood. and through it all, he just watched you.

like he didn’t understand why you cared.

“you’re not supposed to fix me, sunshine,” he said eventually, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “just tutor me.”

you didn’t look at his eyes. “maybe i just don’t want to watch you fall apart.”

his breath hitched slightly. and maybe you imagined it, but for the first time, the fight in his eyes flickered. just for a second.

he didn’t say anything else. but something shifted in that moment.

because later, when he went home, he touched the bandage you had carefully pressed onto his skin, fingers lingering there longer than necessary.

and even though he would never admit it. maybe not even to himself, that was the moment he started falling for you.

—

after that night, things feel different. you tell yourself they’re not, that nothing’s changed, that you’re just imagining the way your chest tightens when you catch him looking at you in the middle of a study session. but it’s there, lingering in the spaces between words, in the silence that lasts too long, in the way his teasing remarks don’t land the same way anymore.

the next session, he actually tries.

not in an obvious way—he’s still late, still sighs dramatically when you hand him a practice problem, still taps his pen against the table like he’s counting down the minutes until he can leave. but when you ask him a question, he answers. when he gets something wrong, he listens when you explain instead of brushing it off.

session sixteen - monday the 28th

“so, what, you’re suddenly serious about passing?” you ask, watching as he leans forward, elbows braced against the table.

he tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “maybe i just like seeing you all impressed when i get something right.”

you roll your eyes. “trust me, you’d have to try way harder for that to happen.”

but you don’t mean it. because when he mutters the right answer under his breath, brow furrowed like he’s actually thinking, something twists in your stomach. you shove the feeling down before it can take root.

—

then, he starts showing up.

not just to your tutoring sessions—those are still scheduled, still predictable, still something you can control—but to other places. places he shouldn’t be.

like when you’re sitting outside between classes, notebook open in your lap, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement.

“wow,” his voice cuts through the quiet, lazy and amused. “you really do study all the time, huh?”

you glance up, frowning as he drops into the seat across from you. “what are you doing here?”

he shrugs, peeling the label off his drink. “nowhere else to be.”

he stays. doesn’t do much—just picks at his rings, tosses casual comments your way, complains about the weather. at first, it’s just once. then it happens again. and again.

“you know you don’t have to sit here, right?” you say one day, not looking up from your laptop.

“i know.”

he doesn’t leave. and you don’t tell him to. maybe that’s your first mistake.

—

the evening air is crisp, biting at your skin as you step out of the library. you tug your jacket tighter around yourself, putting your earbuds in as you start down the quiet path leading off campus. most of the streetlights flicker on as it got darker.

you don’t hear him at first.

not until he falls into step beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.

“hey, sunshine.”

you nearly trip, ripping an earbud out as you whip your head to the side. “what the—why are you here?”

he doesn’t look at you, just keeps walking like this is the most natural thing in the world. “walking.” he motions in front of him.

“walking where?” you press, your suspicion growing.

he exhales, tilting his head toward the sky as if debating whether to answer. finally, he shrugs. “just making sure you get home okay.”

you slow your steps. something about the way he says it, like it’s just a fact, like it’s obvious, throws you off balance.

“i don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter.

“yeah, i know.”

“so why—”

“just shut up and keep walking.”

the words should annoy you. they do annoy you. but something in his casual but firm tone, like he’s already decided he’s doing this whether you like it or not, leaves no room for argument. so you walk, stealing glances at him every so often, watching the way he shifts his weight, the way his fingers flex like he’s holding back something he’ll never say out loud.

“this isn’t a habit now, is it?” you ask after a few minutes.

“depends.”

“on what?”

“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”

you roll your eyes but don’t push.

when you finally reach your place, you stop at the fence, hesitating. you should say goodnight. you should say thanks, maybe. but before you can decide, he’s already a few steps away, hands still buried in his pockets, gaze fixed ahead.

“see you later, sunshine.”

he doesn’t look back. doesn’t wait for a response.

but for some reason, you watch him walk away anyway.

—

you should be asleep.

but you’re not.

instead, you’re lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the walk home in your head like a movie you can’t turn off. like the flickering streetlights, the cold air, the steady sound of footsteps beside you—his footsteps—are all burned into your mind.

you shift onto your side, pulling your blanket up to your chin. it’s stupid. he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything that should be lingering like this. all he did was show up. all he did was walk.

but still.

“just making sure you get home okay.”

he’d said it like it was nothing. like it wasn’t a thing.

but it was. wasn’t it?

you sigh, rolling onto your back again. your phone sits on your nightstand, screen dark, no notifications. not that you expected any. he’s not the kind of guy to text. but still, some stupid part of you wonders if he’s thinking about it, too.

not about you. just—about anything.

maybe he’s already asleep, completely unbothered, already moved on. maybe it meant nothing to him.

but then again—

“depends.”

“on what?”

“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”

you close your eyes, exhaling slowly.

you don’t know what’s worse. the fact that he might actually do it again.

or the fact that you kind of want him to.

—

session nineteen - monday april 4th

you check the time again.

ten minutes late.

with an annoyed sigh, you tap your pen against the open notebook in front of you, debating whether to give up and leave. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before. showing up whenever he feels like it, acting like he’s doing you a favor by even bothering. but this time, it’s grating more than usual. maybe because things have been different lately—less antagonistic, more… whatever this weird tension is that neither of you have acknowledged.

and then, just as you’re about to slap your notebook shut, a chair scrapes against the floor.

“took you long enough,” you mutter without looking up.

“miss me?”

the smirk is there—you can hear it in his voice even before you meet his gaze. he leans back in his chair, stretching out like he has all the time in the world. no apology, no excuse. just him, always testing your patience.

you roll your eyes and push his notebook toward him. “just open your book.”

the session starts off okay, at first. he’s actually trying—not a lot, but enough. he answers a few questions, gets some right, listens when you explain the ones he gets wrong. but there’s something off about him today.

he’s restless. more than usual.

his fingers tap against the table, his rings clicking against each other in a way that makes your nerves buzz. he sighs every time you correct him, leans back so far in his chair that you’re convinced he’s seconds away from tipping over. but most of all, he’s not looking at you.

not in the usual way, at least. he usually stares—lazy, smug, like he’s waiting for you to snap. but today, it’s like he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. like he’s somewhere else.

“what is wrong with you today?” the words slip out before you can stop them.

haechan raises an eyebrow, finally meeting your eyes. “me? nothing. maybe you’re just extra grumpy today.”

you glare. “maybe i wouldn’t be if you were actually focused.”

he clicks his tongue, shutting his notebook with a dull thud. “yeah? and what if i don’t feel like it?”

your patience snaps. “then why are you even here, haechan?”

silence.

his expression shifts—just barely, but enough for you to see it. the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looks away.

and then he speaks so quiet, almost to himself.

“good question.”

your breath catches. because suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re talking about tutoring anymore.

neither of you speak after that.

the rest of the session is stiff, words clipped and movements sharp. when it ends, he doesn’t throw a smug remark over his shoulder, doesn’t tease you like he usually does. he just stands, slings his bag over his shoulder, and walks out without looking back.

you stay sitting there long after he’s gone, staring at the empty chair next to you.

heart pounding for reasons you don’t want to think about.

—

session twenty - wednesday the 6th

wednesday’s session is quieter than usual. it’s like there’s a wall between the two of you—still the same awkwardness, but with more… space.

haechan is more focused than before, but there’s a distance in the way he engages with the material. no smart comments, no teasing, just a steady silence as he works through the problems. every time your fingers brush over his paper to point out a mistake, there’s a brief, electric pause. neither of you comment on it, but it lingers, like a promise neither of you are ready to make.

but by the end of it, he’s gone without a word. not a smile, not a look. just the door shutting quietly behind him.

—

session twenty one - friday the 8th

friday’s session is different.

when he walks in, there’s a heaviness about him, something off—his face is bruised again, his lip split like last time, hair slightly tousled, and there’s a subtle tremble in his step like he’s not sure whether to be here or not. his eyes avoid yours as he slides into the chair across from yours, too close to be casual but too distant to be comfortable.

the silence between you is charged from the start, but it’s not the playful tension you’re used to. it’s thick, raw, almost uncomfortable.

you can’t help but stare at the bruise blooming across his jaw, the scrape on his chin, and the other cuts scattered across his arms. the anger and adrenaline radiate off him in waves, but there’s something deeper underneath all of it—a tiredness.

you try not to let your voice crack, but the concern breaks through anyway. “what happened?”

haechan doesn’t meet your gaze. his eyes are dark, like he’s trying to bury something under all that nonchalance. “it’s nothing.”

you don’t believe him. obviously. not looking like that. “haechan, don’t lie.”

finally, he looks at you, and there’s something in his expression that makes you freeze—raw vulnerability laced with a bitterness you can’t quite place. “someone said something about you,” he says quietly. “something i didn’t like.”

you feel the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no hiding the unease creeping into your tone.

he’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table as he thinks about how to phrase it. then, he just blurts it out: “i fought over you.”

it takes you a second to process. “what?”

he looks at you, this time, eyes searching yours like he’s looking for something. “they were talking about you. bad stuff. i couldn’t just sit there. i—” his words falter, like he’s not sure why he’s even explaining this to you.

you don’t know what to say. your heart beats harder, faster. “so you just…?”

“i lost it.” he’s not ashamed, not exactly, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel like he’s letting go of more than just the fight. “i couldn’t stand it. i had to do something.”

and that’s when it hits you—the depth of everything he’s been hiding behind those sharp smirks and sarcastic comments.

without thinking, your fingers move—just a soft brush against his darkening knuckles, like it’s the only thing you can do to make sense of all this. you feel the heat of his skin underneath your fingertips, and the contact burns, even though it’s so small.

haechan’s breath catches. there’s a moment of complete silence, and then he slowly, so slowly, moves his fingers that were under yours.

you hold your breath, fingers trembling just a little. and then, as if testing the waters, he slides his fingers up to rest his hand against yours. you found your hand opening up, as your palms touched slightly. his finger tips grazing your with a ghost-like touch. for a second, neither of you moves. there’s a fragile, delicate tension that seems to freeze the room in place.

and then, without saying a word, he lets his fingers gently curl around yours.

it’s slow, tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but when you don’t, when you let him, he doesn’t hesitate. his grip tightens just enough, not too much—just enough to say this matters.

your heart races, and your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

you let your fingers slip into the spaces between his, moving carefully, slowly.

there’s no hurry. just the quiet sound of your breaths mingling with the subtle click of his rings as his fingers settle between yours.

his eyes drop to your hands, studying the way you fit together, the way your fingers slide against his, perfectly and effortlessly. it’s intimate in a way that makes everything around you disappear. there’s only the soft warmth of his hand in yours, the quiet thrum of something unspoken growing louder between you.

he leans forward slightly, his voice quiet, almost like a confession. “i fought because of you,” he says, the weight of his words settling between you two like a secret you didn’t expect.

you want to say something, want to ask why, but the words don’t come. your chest feels tight. why would he do that for you?

his thumb strokes the back of your hand, the motion slow and careful, and you feel the heat of his touch seep through you. “i couldn’t just let them say shit about you,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “no one talks about you like that and gets away with it.”

you finally meet his gaze, your chest tight with something you can’t name. he holds your hand gently, but there’s a possessiveness in his touch, something protective that you can’t quite ignore.

the air between you is thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid. he doesn’t let go of your hand, doesn’t move away, and neither do you.

you’re not sure how long you sit there, fingers entwined, the world outside of this moment fading away. but somehow, it feels like everything has changed between you two in that quiet, intimate touch. Something that didn’t need to be spoken but felt.

neither of you moves, not yet. not until it’s time.

—

saturday -

saturday morning arrives with the lingering weight of haechan’s words from the previous session. “maybe we could grab a coffee or something. no tutoring… just…”

his voice still echoes in your mind as you get ready. you don’t know why it’s making you nervous. you’ve spent hours with him tutoring, in tight spaces, talking about everything under the sun, but this feels different. it’s not about grades or chemistry anymore. it’s about you and him—just two people.

when your parents asked where you were off to, you brushed them off with a simple. “studying at the café,”.

at 2 p.m., you arrive at the cafe a little early. your heart beats louder in your chest as you stand outside, looking at the door, unsure whether you should go in first or wait. but before you can make up your mind, haechan appears. he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. his messy hair adds to the vibe—relaxed, but there’s an intensity in the way he walks towards you.

“hey,” he greets with that familiar teasing smile, but it’s less playful today, more reserved. he watches you for a beat, like he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling.

“hey,” you respond, your voice steady but your insides twist with something unfamiliar.

the conversation starts easy, like a continuation of your tutoring sessions, but it quickly morphs into something more personal. you laugh at his jokes, and he cracks a few of his usual sarcastic comments. but this time, they don’t feel so cutting—they feel like an invitation, an effort to connect.

you tell him about your favorite subjects, and he talks about his struggle with science (which he completely tries to play off like he doesn’t care about). somehow, you both end up talking about your childhoods, your families, and some awkward high school moments. the more you talk, the more the layers fall away, and you realize this is more real than you expected. he really wasn’t some monster that everyone seemed to paint him as.

as you finish your drinks, there’s an uneasy silence between you two. haechan runs a hand through his hair, and you shift in your seat, unsure of what to do next. the energy between you both is charged now—unspoken words hang thick in the air, and it’s almost unbearable.

“well, sunshine,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “i guess I’ll see you on monday?”

you nod, too quickly, almost relieved to escape the pressure of the moment. “yeah, monday.”

you both stand, and as you turn to walk away, you feel his eyes on you. you can’t tell if it’s admiration or something else, but the way he watches you feels different now.

sunday -

sunday passes quietly, but the space between you and haechan feels wider, even though you just saw him the day before. you try not to think about the little moments—the way he looked at you, how close you both were, how much you wanted him to say more. but that’s the problem, isn’t it? you both left so much unsaid, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

he doesn’t text you at all. the silence is deafening. you tell yourself it’s probably a good thing; after all, you don’t need to overanalyze everything, right? but then again, why does it feel so heavy?

you end up spending the day at home, alone with your thoughts. the weekend was supposed to be simple, a break from the usual, but now you can’t shake the feeling that it’s more complicated than that. haechan has always been complicated, but now you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something, not sure whether to jump or step back.

session twenty two - monday the 11th

by the time monday rolls around, you’re feeling restless. there’s a shift in your mood. a nervous energy that you can’t shake off, and when you step into school, it feels like you’re waiting for something to happen. you can’t decide if it’s anticipation or dread, but either way, you’re drawn back to the tutoring session.

when haechan finally walks into the classroom, you can’t tell if he’s acting like everything is normal or if he’s pretending. he gives you a short wave, but it’s not his usual playful smile. it’s different now. there’s something more cautious in his movements.

you both settle into your usual rhythm—he’s late, of course, but he’s quieter today. you’re not sure if that’s because of the weekend or if it’s something else entirely.

the session goes well, mostly. it’s like before, in the sense that you both get through the work, but there’s an added tension. he looks at you a little longer than he usually does, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s trying to understand something. the usual teasing is absent today, replaced by a different energy—more subtle, more cautious.

by the end of the session, you can’t help but feel like you’re caught in this strange, unspoken limbo between what you both were and what you might be. you still don’t know where it’s going, but you’re both standing at the edge, unsure whether to jump or wait to see what the next step will be.

—

session twenty three - wednesday the 13th

it’s the final session before the break, and everything feels different. the air feels thicker, charged with something neither of you are saying but both know is there. you both sit at the desk, the tension palpable, but neither of you are focused on the notes in front of you. it’s like the classroom walls are closing in, and neither of you can breathe easily.

you keep glancing over at him, trying to stick to the lesson, but he’s just… there, too close, too present. the words he’s saying are just noise in the background as his eyes flicker over you every time you speak, his gaze heavy, simmering. you know it’s not just the subject anymore. something has shifted.

“you’re not listening,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend.

he looks at you, not surprised, but not unaffected either. “neither are you,” he replies, and there’s something in his voice that’s too calm. too knowing.

you press your lips together, trying to keep your composure. “well, you’re not even trying.”

he smirks, leaning back in his chair slightly. “again, neither are you.”

there’s a challenge in his voice, and it sets something off inside you. something snaps. you stand up more abrupt than you anticipate, trying to collect your thoughts but only feeling more overwhelmed by the space between you two. you feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of the tension, like there’s something about to break, and you don’t know if you want to stop it or let it happen.

you cross your arms, pacing around the small desk, trying to cool the heat you feel flooding your chest.

“why are you so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than him.

“because you make it easy,” he says, voice low, leaning forward, his eyes locked on you in a way that makes your knees weak.

he stands up slowly, the movement purposeful, and your heart skips a beat. the space between you is closing, and before you can make sense of what’s happening, he’s there, standing right in front of you.

his hand brushes against yours, and you feel it like a spark, his fingers just grazing yours before he holds your wrist lightly, tugging you closer to him. you can’t move, rooted in place by something deeper than just attraction.

and then he kisses you.

it’s a kiss that’s full of everything you’ve been holding back. the anger, the frustration, the need for something more that you don’t know how to name. it’s messy, urgent, like both of you are desperate to see how far you can go without letting go. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing against him as you kiss him back, just as hungry, just as eager.

you feel his grip on your wrist tighten, pulling you closer as his other hand slides to your waist. the kiss deepens, and the world around you disappears. it’s just you and him, the heat of his lips against yours, the press of his body against yours.

you can’t help but give in, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, your breath coming faster as the intensity builds.

and then, just as suddenly, it breaks.

you pull back, hands trembling, and you stare at him, your heart pounding against your ribs.

you feel guilty.

you glance away, trying to catch your breath, but all you can hear are the voices from the past—the warnings your parents gave you, the things they said about boys like him.

“boys like him are trouble.”

the words echo in your mind like a warning. trouble.

you can’t ignore it. your heart sinks, and a cold wave of uncertainty washes over you. this is trouble.

you step back, trying to create some distance, trying to make sense of it all. “this isn’t… supposed to happen.”

he stays silent for a beat, his expression unreadable. then, quietly, he says, “i don’t want to stop.”

you shake your head, backing away, but you can’t seem to find the words. everything’s spinning in your head. he’s trouble, but you want him.

“haechan,” you whisper, feeling a rush of heat rise to your cheeks, “i—this was a mistake.”

he doesn’t say anything, just watches you as you grab your things, your heart heavy in your chest.

you don’t know how to fix this, don’t know how to untangle the mess you’ve just made of your feelings. you only know that walking away is the only thing you can do right now, even if every step you take feels like it’s pulling you away from him and yet dragging you closer at the same time.

you leave without another word, but as you walk down the hall, your mind is still stuck on him.

this isn’t what i signed up for… but then again, maybe it was.

—

the following night is unusually still, and you lie awake, mind tangled in the events of the past week. your thoughts keep drifting back to him—the kiss, the way he pulled away, and the uncertainty that followed. you toss and turn, trying to shake off the feeling, but it’s like something’s pulling you in. just as you start to think you’re finally starting to calm down, a soft knock at your window breaks through the silence.

your heart jumps in your chest, and for a second, you freeze. there’s no mistaking who it is. haechan.

you rush to the window, heart racing, but you pause for a brief moment to glance at your door—your parents are just down the hall. still, curiosity outweighs caution, and you push the blinds up quietly, barely believing your eyes.

there he is, his silhouette framed against the dim streetlights outside, standing on the roof near your window with that familiar, confident smirk that sends a strange rush through you.

“how’d you get up here?” you whisper after opening the window, your voice shaky, heart still pounding in your ears.

he shrugs as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, but you can’t ignore the way his arm strains as he grips the window sill, his veins flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt. your eyes flicker down to his arms, and for a moment, you forget to breathe, your gaze catching on the way the muscles ripple as he pulls himself up with a small thud.

you wince, then immediately shush him, raising a finger to your lips in an exaggerated, playful gesture. “my parents are gonna hear you!”

he flashes that trademark grin, but it’s softer this time—almost sheepish, like he wasn’t expecting this much resistance. “sorry,” he whispers, giving you a quick, apologetic wink before pulling himself through the window with a bit more flair than necessary. you can feel the heat radiating off him as he steps inside, and for a brief second, you both just stand there in the quiet of the room.

there’s an awkward pause as he dusts himself off, glancing around your room as if trying to find a reason for being here, but then his eyes land on you. his expression softens just a little, that familiar cockiness fading away for a second.

“didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but… figured i’d take a risk. can’t sleep, you know?”

you laugh softly, a little nervously, though you can’t quite explain why. there’s something about him being here, standing in your room in the dead of night, that’s thrilling in a way you’re not ready to admit. “did you…climb the tree?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“yeah,” he grins, his tone light, almost teasing. “it’s not that hard. plus, i thought i’d get your attention somehow.” he shrugs as if this is a totally reasonable thing to do. but when his eyes meet yours, there’s something behind them. something vulnerable, something unspoken.

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, but there’s no malice behind it. instead, your voice is soft, fond. you step back instinctively as he moves toward you, not sure if you want to step away or let him close the gap. you should be more concerned that he was here. if your parents found out, you have no idea what kind of reaction they’d have.

he looks at you for a moment, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s studying every detail. you can feel the tension building between the two of you, and even though you know you should step back again, you stay rooted to the spot. there’s a pull between you that neither of you can ignore.

“i just… couldn’t stop thinking about everything. about you,” he admits, the words coming out quieter than usual. he doesn’t sound like the usual confident haechan; there’s a vulnerability in his voice now, something raw that you’ve never heard before.

you blink, caught off guard. the air feels thick with unspoken words, and for a second, you’re at a loss for how to respond. your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you move a little closer to him.

his eyes widen slightly when you step forward, but he doesn’t move away. instead, he reaches for your hand slowly, almost hesitantly. his fingers brush over yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. it’s so quiet, so soft, but it feels like the whole world has paused. you glance down at his hand—his fingers are rough, the veins on his arms standing out against his skin.

you look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and he squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, almost intimate motion. there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you, a silent acknowledgment of everything that’s been building between you.

“you’re here,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, but it feels like it carries the weight of everything you haven’t been able to say.

he gives a small, lopsided grin, his thumb still moving over your hand. “yeah. i guess i am.”

and then, without another word, he leans in, and this time, when your lips meet, it’s not chaotic. it’s slow, deliberate, like the two of you are finally giving in to something you’ve been avoiding. his hand slides up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he’s memorizing the feel of you.

the kiss is soft at first, tentative, but it deepens as the moments stretch on, his other hand moving to gently to him by your back, pulling you closer. everything else fades away. the hesitation, the uncertainty and you lose yourself in it.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathing a little heavier, the space between you still charged with the emotions neither of you knew how to express. you glance at the door again, your mind briefly flashing to the consequences of this. but for a moment, you don’t care.

“this is… insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling just slightly.

he leans his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i know. but i don’t think i can stay away.”

for a moment, you both just stand there, breathless, sharing the same quiet understanding. you’ve crossed a line you never thought you would, and for the first time, you’re not sure what comes next. but you know this: you can’t go back. not now.

—

after that night, everything changes. things between you and haechan aren’t just charged—they’re different. there’s no more pretending that what happened didn’t mean something.

friday the 15th

the next day at school, he’s there—leaning against his locker like usual, surrounded by his close group of friends, but his eyes are on you the second you walk in. it’s not just a glance this time. it’s intentional, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll look at him, if you’ll acknowledge what happened between you the night before.

your heart races, but you force yourself to act normal. your parents had been none the wiser about his late-night visit, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still thinking about it. thinking about him. you take a deep breath and head toward your first class, but just as you pass him, his fingers catch your wrist. it’s subtle, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“you’re not gonna ignore me now, are you?” his voice is low, teasing, but there’s something real underneath it.

“not here,” you murmur, pulling your hand away, your face heating up as you disappear into the crowd.

you glance around—people are watching. of course they are. it was unusual for a student like and a student like him to interact. let alone lee haechan and you.

but you can feel his gaze on you for the rest of the day.

after school -

he catches up to you before you can leave, cutting you off near the entrance. “so, sunshine, are we gonna talk about last night? or are you just gonna pretend i didn’t climb a damn tree for you?”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you could’ve fallen.”

“but i didn’t,” he grins, stepping closer, dropping his voice so only you can hear. “what, you worried about me?”

you are, but you won’t admit that. you sigh. “i don’t know what you expect me to say.”

his smirk fades just slightly, a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “say it wasn’t nothing.”

you hesitate, because you can’t say that. you won’t lie. but you also don’t know what this is.

before you can respond, a voice calls your name from behind. one of your classmates. someone who shouldn’t be seeing you with him like this.

“i have to go,” you say quickly, stepping away.

he doesn’t stop you, but as you walk away, you hear him call out, just loud enough for you to hear—

“i’ll see you later, sunshine.”

and you know you will.

saturday night -

you get a text from him.

haechan: come outside

your heart leaps into your throat. you glance at your bedroom door, listening carefully. your parents are still awake. sneaking out has never been something you’ve even considered before, but now…

your fingers hover over your phone.

you: are you insane?

haechan: probably. but i wanna see you.

you hesitate. but only for a second.

and then, for the first time, you take the risk.

—

the door clicks softly behind you as you step onto the porch, the night air brushing cool against your skin. you shiver slightly, but you ignore it, your pulse already picking up when you spot haechan waiting just beyond the porch light’s glow, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

he steps forward as you approach, but then—he stops.

his eyes flicker down, lingering.

you suddenly realize what you’re wearing—silk shorts, the kind with delicate lace at the hem, barely brushing mid-thigh. paired with a thin, loose sweater, it’s nothing that scandalous, but under his gaze, you feel the heat creeping up your neck.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he exhales, tilting his head. “damn, sunshine. if i knew sneaking into your thoughts at night got me this kind of welcome, i would’ve done it sooner.”

you cross your arms, giving him an unimpressed look despite the warmth spreading in your chest. “i wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

he hums, taking another step closer. “yeah? so you just wear this to bed every night?” his voice dips lower, teasing, but there’s something else there.

you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach tightens. “are you done staring?”

his smirk deepens. “not even close.”

“why are you even here?” you sigh, trying to steer the conversation before you combust under his gaze.

his expression shifts slightly, something more serious flickering beneath the teasing. “couldn’t sleep.” he shrugs, eyes still on you but softer now. “kept thinking about you.”

your breath hitches. you weren’t expecting that.

you hesitate, shifting on your feet. “and what exactly were you thinking about?”

he doesn’t hesitate. “that kiss. both of them.”

you inhale sharply, your heart picking up speed.

he watches you carefully, stepping just close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “tell me i’m the only one who’s been losing sleep over it,” he murmurs. “tell me you don’t think about it too.”

you should brush it off. should laugh, roll your eyes, push him away like you always do.

but you don’t.

“…maybe a little.”

his lips quirk, but it’s not his usual cocky smirk—it’s softer. more real.

“thought so.”

before you can even react, his fingers find yours, brushing over your knuckles before lacing them together. it’s slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to pull away.

you don’t.

he exhales a quiet laugh. “you’re in trouble, sunshine.”

you swallow. “why?”

his thumb traces over the back of your hand, and when he looks at you, there’s something almost fond in his eyes.

“’cause now that i’ve got you like this,” he murmurs, “i don’t think i can let go.”

—

you should go back inside. your parents are asleep just down the hall, and this is the kind of thing they warned you about. sneaking out into the night with a boy like him, hand in hand, heart racing in ways it shouldn’t.

but you don’t let go.

“come on,” he says, his grip tightening just slightly, like he’s afraid you might change your mind. “let’s go somewhere.”

“what? where?” you ask, but you’re already following him down the steps, his hand warm against yours.

he smirks, eyes glinting in the dim light. “trust me.”

and for some reason, you do.

—

the night air is crisp, cool against your skin as the two of you walk through the quiet streets. neither of you say much at first, just the soft scuff of your footsteps on the pavement, the occasional flickering of a streetlight overhead. it’s reckless, it’s stupid, but for some reason, it feels right.

he leads you toward a small park a few blocks away, one you haven’t been to in years. it looks different at night—emptier, quieter, like a hidden world that only the two of you know about.

“seriously?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “you dragged me out of bed for a playground?”

haechan grins, tugging you toward the swings. “come on, sunshine. live a little.”

you huff, but you sit anyway, the chains creaking slightly as you lean back. he takes the swing next to yours, feet planted on the ground, arms draped lazily over the chains.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the city hums softly in the distance, a car passing now and then, but here, in this little forgotten space, it feels like you’re in your own world.

then he breaks the silence.

“so,” he says, voice quieter now. “are you gonna tell me why you kissed me back?”

your fingers tighten around the swing’s chains.

you should lie. should brush it off, make a joke, something.

but instead, you glance at him, finding him already watching you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight.

“…i don’t know,” you admit.

he exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “wrong answer, sunshine.”

you frown. “oh? and what’s the right one?”

he leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him even in the cool night air. his voice drops, teasing but serious all at once.

“that you can’t get me out of your head, either.”

your breath catches.

you could argue. you could deny it. but instead, you just look at him, your heart pounding, and realize—maybe you don’t want to.

—

the morning after sneaking out with haechan, everything feels different.

your room is the same, the sun filtering through your curtains, casting warm streaks of light across your sheets. your parents are in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast drifting down the hall like any other saturday morning. nothing has changed.

except it has.

because your mind won’t stop replaying the night before. his voice, his hands, the way he looked at you under the dim glow of the streetlights, with that same dark eyeliner you’ve grown to like. the way he leaned in just close enough that you thought he might kiss you again but never did. the way your heart had pounded the entire walk back home, fingers still tingling from where he had held them, warm and steady.

and the worst part?

you didn’t want it to end.

you go through the day pretending everything is normal.

you do your chores, respond to messages, attempt to start your homework—but it all feels distant, like your mind is somewhere else entirely. every time your phone lights up, you half expect it to be him. but it never is.

and then, just when you think you might be going crazy, your mom’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“you’ve been distracted all morning.”

you blink, looking up from your untouched notebook at the kitchen table. your parents are sitting across from you, your dad flipping through the newspaper, your mom watching you with knowing eyes.

“i’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

she hums, not convinced. “it’s not about that boy, is it?”

your heart stops. “what?”

your dad turns a page in the newspaper, not looking up. “the one you’ve been tutoring,” he says simply. “you know, the one we told you to be careful around.”

your pulse stutters. “it’s—no, of course not.”

your mom raises an eyebrow. “really? because ever since those sessions started, you’ve been acting a little… different.”

“and now you’re all spaced out,” your dad adds, still not looking up. “not getting a crush on him, are you?”

you scoff, forcing out a laugh that sounds almost believable. “as if.”

your mom exhales, satisfied for now. “good. boys like that, they’re nothing but trouble.”

your chest tightens. they don’t know anything. “so you’ve told me.” you sigh.

but instead of arguing, you just nod, mumbling something about needing to study before quickly escaping back to your room.

and the moment the door clicks shut behind you, your phone finally buzzes.

haechan: you up, sunshine?

you hesitate for half a second, holding back the small tug at your lips before responding.

you: yeah, why?

his reply comes instantly.

haechan: meet me? same spot.

your heart skips. you don’t even hesitate.

you: be there in 10.

—

the air feels heavier, like the wind is carrying something unspoken between you. you spot him before he sees you—leaning against the swing set, hoodie pulled over his head, one hand twisting a silver ring around his finger. he looks lost in thought, gaze fixed on the ground until he hears your footsteps.

his head lifts, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into a smirk—lazy, like he knew you’d come.

“thought maybe you wouldn’t show,” he says, rocking back on his heels.

you cross your arms, standing a few steps away. “why?”

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “figured maybe you started listening to your parents.”

you raise a brow. “you’re eavesdropping now?”

nah,” he says easily, stepping closer. “just know how people see me.”

you don’t respond. instead, you take a step closer, letting the silence settle between you.

“so,” you say after a beat, “why’d you call me out here?”

he exhales, tilting his head as he watches you. “needed to see you.”

the words come so easily, like he didn’t even have to think about them. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your pulse stutters, but you keep your expression even. “and now that you have?”

he grins, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “now?” his voice drops lower, eyes flickering over your face. “now i wanna know why you came.”

you swallow. why did you?

you should have ignored his message, should have listened to every warning sign telling you to stay away.

but standing here, heart pounding, heat rolling off him in waves—

you realize you don’t regret a damn thing.

“i wanted to see you too.” you say lowly.

—

after that night, something shifts.

it starts slow—an unspoken understanding, a magnetic pull that neither of you acknowledge but never fight.

one night turns into another. and then another.

sometimes, he climbs through your window just to talk, arms crossed against your windowsill, voice hushed as he tells you about his day. other times, he doesn’t talk at all, just pulls you close and kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

and maybe you should be afraid too—afraid of how easy it is to let this happen, to want more. but you’re not.

—

you find yourself around him more at school, too.

it’s not obvious, not at first—just stolen glances across the hallway, his shoulder brushing yours when he passes by, the flicker of a smirk when he catches you looking.

but then he starts waiting for you after class, hands stuffed in his pockets, always acting like he just happened to be there. like it wasn’t intentional.

and you let him.

because somehow, being near him feels natural now. even with the tutoring sessions over. he seemed to be doing pretty well in science now anyway.

—

the nights are different. the nights are yours.

sneaking out is reckless, dangerous, a risk you wouldn’t have taken before. but now? now it’s routine.

sometimes, you meet at the park, swinging lazily under the glow of the streetlights. sometimes, he drags you into the city, leading you through neon-lit streets, hands brushing in the dark.

and sometimes—most nights, actually—he’s at your window.

it always starts the same way: a faint rustling, the quiet scrape of sneakers against bark, and then, moments later, his head poking through the window frame with a grin.

“you’ve got to stop leaving this unlocked, sunshine,” he teases, even though you both know you won’t.

and every time, without fail, you roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him when he pulls himself inside, muscles flexing, veins prominent under his skin as he steadies himself.

the first few times, you told yourself this was temporary—just a phase, just him being him.

but then there’s a night where he doesn’t just talk, doesn’t just steal a few kisses before leaving.

there’s a night where he lingers.

where his hands settle on your waist, where he backs you up against your wall, where the air between you is thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

where he kisses you deeper, hands tracing slow patterns against your skin, like he’s memorizing you.

where you let him.

because at some point, you stopped trying to fight this. stopped trying to pretend you didn’t want it.

because at some point, you stopped caring that he was the kind of boy your parents warned you about.

—

it was one of the nights he had skipped into your room, you greeted him with a smile and things went from there.

his breath is warm against your lips, hands gripping your waist as he backs you into the wall.

he’s been teasing all night—touching you just enough to leave you wanting more, murmuring things in that low, rough voice that made your pulse stutter. but now? now there’s no space left between you, and neither of you are trying to fight it.

his fingers press into your sides, slow and steady, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take. his lips brush yours once, twice—just enough to make you chase him before he finally kisses you like he means it.

and you let yourself fall into it.

your hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, tugging just enough to draw a quiet groan from his throat. his body presses closer, chest rising and falling against yours, the heat between you dizzying.

“you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, voice thick, almost strained.

you don’t even get the chance to answer before he kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s losing whatever little patience he had left.

his hands slip under your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers up your spine. and you should stop this, should put some distance between you before it’s too late—

but then his hands tighten on your hips, and you feel the way his heart is racing just as fast as yours, and god—

you don’t want to stop.

“tell me to leave,” he murmurs, lips trailing along your jaw, down to the hollow of your throat.

you swallow hard, tilting your head back as he presses closer, as his hands continue their slow exploration.

“tell me you don’t want this,” he says again, but there’s no teasing in his voice this time—just something raw, something vulnerable, something almost pleading.

and you should. you should.

instead, your grip tightens in his hair, and you whisper back, “i don’t want you to.”

his response is immediate—his hands slide lower, pulling you flush against him, and he groans against your lips like he’s just lost whatever last shred of control he had.

“fuck,” he exhales, forehead resting against yours. “you’re really gonna be the end of me, sunshine.”

but he doesn’t stop.

and neither do you.

—

when you finally pull your mouth from his, his lips are swollen, breath uneven as he leans into you, hands still firm on your waist like he can’t bring himself to let go just yet.

you don’t want him to.

but somewhere between the heat of his touch and the way his body presses against yours, reality creeps back in.

your parents are just down the hall.

he shouldn’t even be here.

“we should stop,” you murmur, though the words barely make it out, still breathless from the way he just kissed you.

he exhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he tilts his head back to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, jaw tight like he’s forcing himself to pull back.

“yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “yeah, we should.”

but neither of you move.

his thumb brushes against your side, like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

“sunshine,” he says softly, like a warning.

you know you have to let him go.

but when he leans in one last time, mouth hovering just over yours, you don’t stop him.

“just one more?” he murmurs, but it’s a lie.

one more turns into two, then three, then a lingering kiss pressed to the corner of your lips, like he’s reluctant to leave you at all.

but eventually, he does.

he steps back first, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to ground himself, like he’s trying to pull himself together before he does something you’ll both regret.

“guess i should go before i completely fuck this up, huh?” he says, forcing a smirk, but you see the hesitation in his eyes.

you nod, but you don’t trust yourself to say anything.

he moves toward the window, but just before climbing out, he looks back, gaze flickering over you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your fingers are still trembling just slightly.

and then, instead of saying goodbye, he just grins.

“try not to miss me too much,” he teases, but there’s something softer beneath the words. something real.

and with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there at all.

except—he was.

you press your fingers against your lips, as if you can still feel him there, and then, you smile.

it’s embarrassing, the way your stomach flutters, the way your cheeks heat up, the way you actually giggle like some lovesick schoolgirl.

you should not be this giddy over a boy like him.

but you are.

and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore.

—

it was another saturday night, around 12am, your parents long gone to bed.

his hands are warm against your skin, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer.

you’re not even thinking anymore—just moving, just feeling. stumbling over your own feet as he walks you back, laughing quietly when you almost trip over a pile of books.

“shh,” you whisper, barely suppressing a giggle.

he grins against your lips. “that was you.”

“doesn’t matter,” you breathe, fingers curling into his shirt, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath the fabric. “just be quiet.”

he hums in amusement, hands sliding up your sides, his touch slow, deliberate, testing. “you always tell me what to do, sunshine?”

“someone has to.”

“mm,” he leans in, lips brushing your jaw, hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing the fabric up just slightly—waiting for permission.

you exhale, whispering a word of approval.

he doesn’t hesitate. he tugs your shirt up, just enough to expose more of your skin—

knock.

the door swings open.

“what are you doing—?”

you freeze.

haechan freezes.

your mom stands in the doorway, eyes locking onto the scene in front of her—haechan’s hands still on you, his hoodie discarded on the floor, your shirt lifted just enough to make it painfully obvious what was happening.

for a second, no one moves.

no one breathes.

haechan is the first to react, stepping back so fast he almost knocks over your chair. he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to play it cool, like there’s any coming back from this.

you don’t dare turn around.

your heart pounds in your chest, face burning hotter than ever before. this time not with the same heat.

your mom inhales sharply, voice eerily calm.

“downstairs. now.”

the finality in her tone sends a chill down your spine.

haechan glances at you, expression unreadable, but you can’t look at him.

because this time, you’re really in trouble.

—

▸ j.note ; finally releasing this lmao it’s been in the sm basement for quite some time now

2K notes · View notes

sheastri · 2 days ago

Text

Valentine ft. Kimi Antonelli

Synopsis: In which she's Lewis's younger sister and there for a race. Maybe she can bargain for some extra credit for also catching the eye of another teams resident driver.

Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x black!fem!reader

Genre: SMAU + Story

Warning(s): Teenagers

Facecast: Akira Akbar (for the most part)

────────୨ৎ────────

liked by kimi.antonelli, imanirowe, and 156,000 others

ynhamilton would i be wrong if i fed roscoe my hw (say no)

lewishamilton just to confirm, we're talking about MY dog?

username ok but in what world does a teacher need to assign a 50 page packet??

username literally like where is the lorax when we need him??

imanirowe i support women's rights and their wrongs!!

ynhamilton you get me

username my dog ate my hw once and i never looked back

kimi.antonelli only if you don't feed roscoe my hw too

ynhamilton don't worry, igu

lewishamilton who's hand is that on the 3rd slide?

ynhamilton nurse!! he's out again ⤷ lewishamilton y/n...

username are we just gonna look past the slide of the study date?

username right and kimi in the likes?? username ya'll wanna play detective so fucking bad, ppl can't be friends now??

landonorris kids these days, when i was in school i valued homework

ynhamilton this is coming from the guy who didn't finish highschool?? ⤷ oscarpiastri ouch

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The First Meeting

I've rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it, and damn it, It's kind of weird...

"Girl it's hot as fuck but lemme not do too much because at least I'm not at school." You say while doing your homework in the Ferrari garage.

"I just survived another long day of school without you, please find it in your heart to come home soon." Imani cried out.

"You say this now but when I show up you're cozy in your bed and I'm stuck in the classroom alone." You reply rolling your eyes playfully.

"I swear you choose the worst days to come like..." Imani says playfully annoyed.

"Is this a sign for me to never show up again?" You say laughing.

"Now you and I both know damn well lew and your dad would never let that happen." Imani says laughing along with her.

"They really irk me sometimes." I say sighing before Lewis enters the garage.

"So you're doing homework but your phone is in your hand and you're on a call with Imani?" Lewis says aloud.

"Oh girl, why did he lowkey clock you..." Imani says still on the line.

"You're an opp, bye." You say hanging up the phone before turning to Lewis.

"Ok.. Hear me out.." You say as you begin to think up an explanation for not actually working.

Lewis just stares at you with his arms crossed.

"Ok fine, I don't have an excuse but look sometimes a girl just needs to chit chat with her best friend! Please don't tell dad..." You say dramatically.

"Alright." Lewis replies.

"Wait really? You're the best brother in the..."

"If you confess to breaking dads antique and clear my name." Lewis says, finishing his sentence.

"I take it all back, you are sick and twisted." You say before groaning and throwing yourself down in a seat.

"Well, do you have anything you want to share with the class y/n?" Lewis says raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, I'm innocent." You say rolling your eyes and packing up your things to go find somewhere else to work in peace.

Luckily for you Lewis's race engineer distracted him momentarily and you took that as a good sign to leave.

On your way over to hospitality you bumped into someone. Leaving some of the papers you had to fall out of your hands.

"My bad, I was rushing and..." The guy trails off as you look up at him.

"Oh, it's fine. It's just math homework. I wouldn't even be mad if a car drove over it a million times." I say smiling.

“I get what you mean! Lately to take the workload off of just me I’ve been having the team help with math since they basically live, breathe, eat, and sleep mathematics.” Kimi says, giggling throughout his speaking as he watches the expression on your face.

“You know what… That’s a pretty solid idea.” You say as you’re now fully cracking up. Kimi just stares for a moment as if taking everything in.

"You're really pretty... sorry if that's weird to say!" Kimi says his voice going up an octave and cracking when he panicked. You just laugh softly.

"Nah you're good, thank you. You're also very pretty..." You say now getting a bit flustered.

"Umm Kimi Antonelli... like that's my name." He says nervously while smiling.

"Y/n Hamilton, nice to meet you Kimi." You say smiling as you go to pick up your papers from the ground and he instantly bends down to help you.

He tells me I'm pretty. Don't know how to respond. I tell him that he's pretty too! Can I say that? Don't have a clue

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liked by ynhamilton, mercedesamgf1, and 231,000 others

kimi.antonelli Special thanks to Canada for p3

username ok it's one thing for him to like y/n's post bc shes literally that girl but her liking his post??

username damn a girl can't show a little support for her friend now??

mercedesamgf1 Congrats Kimi!!

username ok but who is he celebrating with??

ynhamilton go white boy, go!!

kimi.antonelli i can't just get a simple good job and a pat on the back? ⤷ ynhamilton do u need that??

georgerussell well done kimi!

username well this is one way to soft launch

username With every passing moment I surprise myself. I'm scared of flies. I'm scared of guys... Someone please help!

liked by kimi.antonelli, lewishamilton, and 187,000 others

Tagged: imanirowe, friend1, friend2

ynhamilton february means the summer is still light years away but at least I have my ppl

kimi.antonelli did someone ask you to be their valentine?

ynhamilton why does it concern you again??

imanirowe im already scared for those exams 😭

username thanks for the reminder that I’m abt to suffer through the day while everybody gets balloons and baskets

username it's actually so bad, I'm literally gonna stay home for it this year

username Is this hinting at her having a valentine??

lewishamilton you definitely wouldn't survive finals so it's good that you have more time to study

ynhamilton why do you hate me??

username so who we think her valentine is??

username 'Cause I think I've fallen in love this time. I blinked and suddenly, I had a valentine.

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Pre-race Shenanigans

What if he's the last one I kiss? What if he's the only one I'll ever miss? Maybe I should run, I'm only 18. I don't even know who I want to become.

You wanted to check on Kimi before the race so you abandoned Lewis in the Ferrari garage and went over to merc to try and find him. You had texted him and he seemed a bit stressed. Upon opening the door you saw him pacing back and forth.

"Kimi." You said uttering his name just loud enough to bring him out of whatever trance he was in. You closed the door behind you and smiled softly as he looked up at you.

"What's up? Talk to me?" You said walking towards him.

"I don't know. I'm not really nervous or anything, it's like my mind is creating problems that aren't even probable." Kimi says before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Ok deep breaths Kimi." You say as you guys go over the typical destressing exercises. You watch as Kimi calms down and then smile when he looks at you again.

"Thanks." He says softly looking directly into your eyes.

"Yeah, it's whatever. Good luck and break a leg and whatever else they say." You say breaking eye contact and moving to exit the room.

"You know what would prepare me for this race even more?" He says as your walking to the door.

"What?" You say raising an eyebrow as you angle your body to look at him.

"If you were my valentine." He says almost breathlessly, as though he's surprised he actually said those words.

"Impress me and maybe I'll consider it." You say smiling before you exit the room leaving Kimi standing there shocked in the middle of it.

The second you leave the room and the door closes you let out a deep breathe and mentally squeal while skipping back to the merc garage as your mind keeps circling back to the moment.

I've lost all control of my heartbeat now. Got caught in a romance with him somehow.

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liked by ynhamilton, imanirowe, and 379,000 others

kimi.antonelli la mia valentina (My valentine)

username so you think you’re better than me??

ynhamilton im going to find the absolute worst photos of you now

username IM SICKKKKK

username I feel like he js told me to go kms??

ynhamilton love you pretty boy

kimi.antonelli mrs rabbit has fainted ynhamilton your so cuteness olliebearman mrs rabbit has fainted again

lewishamilton im sorry, what?

ynhamilton well! imanirowe so basically...

username aww ya'll so cute…ᵃⁿⁿᵃᵇᵉˡˡᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ

username I still feel a shock through every bone when I hear an "I love you" 'cause now I've got someone to lose...

liked by kimi.antonelli, imanirowe, and 289,000 others

ynhamilton cats out of the bag

username

lewishamilton ANSWER YOUR PHONE

ynhamilton im sorry who are you?? lewishamilton ok keep that same energy ynhamilton WAIT! NO! im sorry pls

username they just make sense together

username i need a written apology from everyone who called me crazy!!

username YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE!!!…. ₕₒₑ

kimi.antonelli I can't believe I get to call you mine.

ynhamilton I blinked and suddenly I had a valentine.

302 notes · View notes

lilacs-stars · 11 months ago

Text

aiming for your heart

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: you agree to a tutoring session with your pirate classmate, but things end up taking an...unexpected twist. GENRE: pure fluff, a bit of banter CW: nothing much, just mentions of societal pressures WC: 7.9k (they just keep getting longer...)

A/N: I decided to finally do something cute and fluffy after days of working on dark angsty stuff and this felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. it was so fun to write, so thanks to the anon who requested this for the fun idea! <3 please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd love to know your thoughts!

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, cir—

“Ahh, oww!” you cry out as a very solid metal object collides with the side of your skull. Your hand instinctively goes up to the spot on your head—which you can already feel starting to swell—as you wince in pain.

You’re supposed to throw the ring in the basket, not at my head, idiot, you think to yourself as you grimace.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!” you glance around the room, locking eyes with your classmate just a few tables away, whose wand is still poised in their hand and a bewildered expression planted on their face. “I just can’t seem to control…this gosh darn wand…”

You let out a little sigh, trying your best to not be impatient. After all, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as experienced in this field as you are.

You glance back at the student, who’s rereading their textbook pages for what’s probably the tenth time. As you watch them struggle, a pang of guilt hits you for being so mean and irritable. It’s not like they were trying to hit you, and even though it was just a thought passing through in the privacy of your mind, you still feel as though thinking something mean like that is wrong.

You push your chair back and rise from your seat, wand tightly gripped in one hand. Walking over to your classmate’s desk, you give a small smile as you ask them, “Need any help?”

They look up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, yes, please! Enchantment of Magical Objects is literally the hardest class ever!”

You grin again, keeping your demeanor light and friendly, like always. “Okay, so first, you go up, then swish, then circle your wand back around, and finally flick, and then…”

You copy the movements with your own wand as you speak, small magical sparks flickering off it at your gestures. After you complete your little demonstration, you both watch as a hand-sized sleek metal ring, somewhat resembling a circular horseshoe, levitates off the desk and neatly lands in a bucket in the center of the room.

Today’s assignment in your Enchantment class is to use the Aiming Spell to throw the rings into a bucket. Safe to say, it wasn’t really going well for most of the class.

“Wow, that was amazing! You’re so good at this Y/N!” your now starry-eyed classmate exclaims. “And I can barely get my rings off my desk…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you smile reassuringly. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience around wands and enchantments.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is right. I guess not everyone can be as talented with magic as the Good Witch’s very own daughter.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you bid farewell to your classmate as you make your way back to your seat. They aren’t wrong, after all. Your mother, Glinda, taught you how to use a wand as soon as you could walk. You’ve been watching her use magic for ages, so it’s not a surprise to anyone that you’re top of your class.

You sit back down, getting back to work. Even though you know you’ve already mastered the spell, you still have some class time left, which you decide to use wisely and continue practicing the spell.

Staring at the pile of metal rings in front of you, you take a deep breath and begin the task of making each one levitate off your desk and make a perfect arch towards the basket.

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up—swoosh!

A flying ring shoots straight past your face, barely missing you by only a few inches. You stumble backwards in your chair, quite startled. Still, it isn’t unusual to see objects flying around the classroom, or rather, objects flying where they’re not supposed to.

A moment later, another one whizzes past you again. Then a third, which gets so close to your face that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Annoyed, your head snaps to your right, trying to figure out who keeps nearly decapitating you.

You glance around, finally locking eyes with what seems to be the culprit. Chair leaning against the wall, tipped back on its hind two legs, sits a figure with deep brown eyes and smokey eyeshadow look to match. A smirk is planted on his face, a mischievous glint in his gaze. He wears a dark red jacket on top of a black dress shirt, the collar disheveled and his tie loose around his neck. Contrary to his tousled outfit, his medium-length brown hair is neatly slicked back. One of his hands leisurely holds a wand while the other rests behind his head, and combined with the way he has a leg crossed over the other, one would think he’s enjoying a nice day at the beach instead of sitting in class at one of the most prestigious academies in the land.

You fix him with a look, your gaze subconsciously morphing into a glare as he jerks the wand up, causing one of the metal rings in front of him to levitate a few inches off his desk. With a flick of the wrist, he sends it flying across the room once again. Having learned your lesson, this time you duck down, eyes following the disk as it soars across the room. You watch as it shoots straight towards its target, who expertly crouches as the metal ring hits the wall behind him with a thud, falling to the ground and joining the previous disks.

The target of these attacks is a boy you recognize to be a good friend of the ring-throwing troublemaker, with light brown hair brushed away from his forehead and dressed in a dark green shirt with a black choker around his neck. Morgie le Fay shoots a glare across the room to his perpetrator, making a face that could only mean “You’ll pay for this later.”

Another disk comes shooting at his head, and he ducks down yet again. This time, the metal hits the wall so hard, you worry it left a dent. Unable to take their child-like behavior any longer, you get up from your seat for the second time and stomp your way over to the disk-thrower.

“Hook!” you say as you reach his table. The man in question tilts his head towards you, looking up with an amused grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, lassie?” he replies, his accent crisp and unmistakable.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing it would be terribly rude, even if he was getting on your nerves like no other. You settle for fixing him with another look. “Could you please stop hurling those disks around? It’s not the assignment, and you practically hit me!”

“My apologies, love,” Hook replies, still peering up at you, unbothered. You honestly doubt he means it, so you frown and try again. “I’m being serious, Hook.”

“As am I,” he replies, making you want to smack that stupid smirk off his face. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you remind yourself. Violence is never the answer. You find it funny how you can almost hear your mother’s voice as you repeat those words in your head, the ones she always tells you.

“So you’ll stop?” you ask, raising a brow and putting your hands on your hips to show him you’re not messing around.

“Ah, well, you see,” Hook starts, and it takes every ounce of benevolence in you to not internally combust at whatever excuse he’s planning to come up with. “I’m having a tad bit of trouble with this spell, love. No matter what I do, I simply can’t seem to lock on to the right target.”

At this, you raise your eyebrows again, disbelief laced through your every cell. “Why don’t you give it a go,” you say, jerking your chin towards the basket in the middle of the room. “You never know until you don’t try.”

Hook leans forward in his chair, righting it again so it stands on all four legs. He raises his wand, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s actually concentrating on the task at hand. One of the metal disks rises into the air, levitating a meter above the floor.

Hook flicks his wand forward and the disk sails away, missing the basket in an almost laughable attempt at execution. Instead of the proper target, it lands on the edge of a file cabinet in the far corner of the room. You pray for the poor soul that will inevitably open one of its drawers, only to be smacked in the head by a piece of solid steel.

Eyebrows raised, Hook unabashedly turns back around to face you with that grin of his. “So how was that, love? Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone make such a…uh, interesting attempt at this assignment.” Deep down, a little part of you really wants to say much meaner things, but you bite back your words, knowing that showing contempt never did anyone any good.

“Interesting, eh?” Hook’s smirk grows, and you can see him already scheming inside that villainous little mind of his. “Say, Y/N”—he uncrosses his legs, leaning in your direction—“you’re the top student of this class, are you not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but refrain from saying anything you know you’ll later regret. “Yes, and?”

“Well, as you can clearly see here, I require a bit of assistance with this assignment. After all, not everyone grew up waving wands like you,” he quips, flourishing the wand in his hand as if it were an ordinary stick. Abruptly, he stills his movements and drops the wand on his desk, before turning to face you directly, locking eyes. “Would you be so kind as to teach me a few things?”

You quirk your brows, albeit attempting to keep a straight face. “Are you asking me to…tutor you?”

Hook grins yet again. “This evening, 7 o’clock, the common area in the East Wing.” He puts his hand on his knees as he gets up, now leering a few inches above you. Still holding your gaze—although he has to tilt his head down to do so—he asks, “I’ll see you then?”

You blink twice, mind replaying the events that led to you getting yourself stuck in this situation. On the one hand, you definitely don't want to have a one-on-one study session with a villain—and an annoyingly smug one at that. Honestly, the few interactions you are forced to have with him in class are far enough for you.

But on the other hand, he is asking for help to improve his grades…after all, it’s not every day someone the likes of him shows interest in learning. Plus, you know that it’s not right to turn away a person in need of your help, no matter how insufferable they are. Especially if they’re always flashing you a smile filled with shining white teeth and full, plump pink lips.

A sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it as you resign yourself to your fate. “Alright, I guess. But come prepared to learn. That means you need your wand, your textbooks, notebo—”

He cuts you off with a passive sweep of his hook, much to your annoyance. Leaning in just a little closer to you, enough to make your palms slightly sweaty, his face tilts down even nearer to yours. “It’s a date, then,” Hook says, his voice soft but still with that teasing tone it always seems to carry.

“It’s not a date!” you call out as the bell rings, but he’s already making his way out of the classroom, sauntering off to do who-knows-what.

Heavens, what have I gotten myself into, you think, placing a hand on your forehead as you breathe out a long, heavy sigh.

The evening rolls around far too quickly for your liking, and before you know it you’re making your way out of your doom room and up a set of stairs.

You keep on thinking about how you had ample time to back out of this arrangement; plus, you would be lying if you said you didn't consider it a number of times. But each time, you remind yourself that you are doing a good deed for someone obviously in need of a good influence. That you have to be selfless and put aside your personal feelings to serve a good cause, as all heroes do. That your opinions don't really matter—after all, the best heroes are the ones who make the deepest sacrifices, right?

So that’s how you find yourself dragging heavy feet across a corridor, a tiny voice in your head begging you to turn around, as you finally reach the common area set as your meetup spot. You glance at your wristwatch, which reads 6:55. You had decided to leave a bit early so you could arrive with a few minutes to spare. As your mother always reminds you, “It’s better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

Pulling out a chair at a nearby two-person table, you sit down, plopping your bookbag next to you. You had stuffed it full of your personal notes, your wand, and several textbooks you thought could help Hook.

Tapping a pencil on the wooden desk, you sigh, glancing at your clock again. 6:57. Thinking back on your previous decision, you wonder why you left so early. After all, you have Hook down in your mind as the type to be extremely unpunctual. Leaning back in your chair out of sheer boredom, you start to clearly picture Hook showing up a good hour late. Heck, you’d be surprised if he even shows up at all.

The clock hits 6:59, and you begin to debate how long you’re willing to stay here before giving up and returning to your dorm. Would ten minutes be enough? Fifteen? Thirty? The more you think about it, the more you can imagine this being some sort of elaborate prank to trick you. After all, why would a delinquent villain like Hook ever be interested in planning a tutoring session?

You sigh once again, angry at yourself for being so naive as to fall for his little trick. Drumming your fingers on the table as you put your head down, you mentally punch yourself for your gullibility.

Which is why you nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of a loud thud sound from in front of you. You jerk back into your chair, arms flailing as it tips, causing you to nearly topple backwards. With your reflexes kicking in, your hand latches onto the edge of the table—thankfully—and you manage to pull yourself back to a more stable position.

Hand clutching your pounding heart, you roll your head back to be greeted with that stupid little smirk that haunts your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. After all, we were planning to meet up, were we not?” Hook says, tone extremely smug and a tiny bit pitiful at your frightened state.

You raise your arm and flick your wrist, reading the time displayed on your clock. 7:00. He…he showed up exactly on time, you think, praying that your shock isn’t displayed on your face.

As if he can read your mind—and in all honesty, maybe he can—Hook says, “You didn’t doubt me, now, did you, darling? How could I skimp out on our little date?”

“It’s not a date,” you tell him once again, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your voice this time.

“Whatever you say.” Hook gives a little grin as he raises his eyebrows for a second. Before you can continue to argue, he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down. You eye a small black leather satchel that dangles from his hook as he drops it down on the floor. Huh, he even came prepared.

He leans in, arms resting on the table, as he fixes you with a sly grin. “So, Miss Teacher, what are you going to teach me today?”

You hate to pass on the opportunity to make a snarky remark, but you know that rubbing Hook the wrong way is not going to make these next few hours any less sufferable. Instead, you simply go for a “How about you start by getting out your materials?”

“As you wish, m’lady.” An irritated sigh escapes your lips, and you realize you’ve been sighing a lot more than usual ever since you got in this…predicament. You watch, somewhat impatiently, as Hook reaches down and draws a single notebook and his practice wand out of the leather satchel. Glancing at his materials, then back at yours, you realize that you came a lot more prepared than he did, even though you’re not the one trying to learn here. Well, I guess him putting in some effort still better than nothing.

You pull out one of the thick textbooks from your bag, the used animal skin cover peeling at the edges and the pages yellowed from the wear of time.

“First, we’re going to get started with the theory of enchantments and spells.” You flip through the pages until you land on the first of many detailing the basics of spellcasting. “Even though we’re going to be focusing on the Aiming Spell, the underlying principles are pretty much the same for all spells you use. Now, you see here, highlighted in the chart are the five main…”

You chance a glance over at Hook, voice trailing off when you realize he isn’t listening. In fact, he's not even looking at the textbook placed in the middle of the desk. Instead, his gaze is fixed on…

…you?

“Hey! Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo!” you exclaim, pulling back from the table. Hook remains unflinching, his chin in his good hand as he stares up at you with a sparkle in his eye.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, love. You’re just so…so entrancing.”

You blink hard, recoiling at his words. He’s not flirting with you…is he? No, there’s no way. Don’t be overly arrogant, you convince yourself. This is just his personality, how he usually acts. The same way he calls everyone “love” and “darling.” There’s absolutely nothing more to it than him saying anything he can think of to fluster you and throw you off track.

…Right?

You ignore the stupid little flutter your heart does at not just being called pretty, or beautiful, or any of the normal compliments. No, you aren’t normal, you’re entrancing…

Snap out of it! you internally scold yourself. This is just another one of his little antics. You’re just letting him win by getting in your head.

“Look, I didn’t come here and set aside this chunk of my valuable time to tutor you, only for you to not listen. If you came here to mess around—” you rant, but you’re cut off before you can get everything off your chest.

“I apologize, lassie. I promise, I’ll focus from here on out,” Hook vows. You eye him with a glare, feeling very distrustful, but you’re only met with his rather sincere gaze.

You let out another breath, once again regretting agreeing to this. “Fine. Get out your notebook. You’re going to want to take notes on this.”

Hook nods and reaches into his satchel, which is still lying on the floor. “If I’m being completely honest—which I assume you must hold in high regard, being a hero and whatnot—I really didn’t expect you to be so…irritable.”

You shoot Hook another glare, before realizing that you’re just proving his point. You give a brief roll of your eyes as you attempt a smile. “I’m not usually like this,” you say, fighting to keep a decently pleasant expression on your face. “You just really find a way to, how should I put this, you really—”

“Push your buttons?” Hook finishes for you, raising his eyebrows.

“I was going to say you really find a way to get on my nerves, but that too,” you respond, with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Whatever, we need to get back to studying. For real this time.”

Hook replies with an “Of course, m’lady,” before you begin your lecture again on the foundation of enchantments. This time, he makes sure to periodically glance down at the textbook pages and occasionally nod or ask a question, all to ensure that you don’t catch him staring at you again. Unbeknownst to you, adoration shines bright in his eyes as he studies your features, committing them to memory every time you’re not looking his way.

You spend some time going over theory with Hook, until you can feel him growing restless, causing you to start wondering if people like him have a capacity for how much information they can absorb at one time. Deciding that theory is no good if it’s not put to practice, you slam the textbook shut once you reach the end of a page, standing up.

Hook looks up at you, a slightly startled expression on his face. “Come on,” you say. “Now we’re going to see how much you paid attention by putting your lesson to good use.”

You hope to see a look of fear flash across his face, but his demeanor stays completely even. Feeling a bit let down, you remind yourself that he still has to actually cast the spell. Watch him mess it up, you think. Let’s see how smug he is then, huh?

Reaching down into your bookbag, you pull out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. You open it to reveal a handful of metal disks, similar to the ones you had used earlier in class. You empty them out on the table before walking over to the middle of the room and placing the cloth down on the floor, a good number of meters away from your table. “This is your target area,” you explain. “Stand by the table and get those rings to land within the borders of the cloth.”

Let’s see how well you fare now, pretty boy.

“Aye, that’s not fair,” Hook says, scrunching his brow as he gestures towards your setup with his hook. “That cloth’s much smaller than the basket we used in class. And the distance is far greater.”

“Well, if you learn how to get the spell right with tougher constraints than the requirement, you’ll be sure to do great for the real thing.” You flash him a wink as you watch his jaw part slightly, an incredulous expression painted on his face. “That’s how I always ace my exams.”

Hook draws in a breath, putting his ever-famous smirk back on his face, although you can feel his unease this time. He picks up his wand, turning around to point it at disks on the table.

Up. He rolls his hand upwards, and one of the disks starts to levitate a foot in the air.

Swish. Hook jerks his wrist to the side, causing the disk to start gently vibrating with potential energy.

Circle. He rotates his hand counterclockwise, drawing a circle with the tip of the wand.

Flick. You watch with bated breath as Hook flicks the wand towards the cloth in the middle of the room.

Both of you follow the disc’s arc through the air with tense anticipation, as it soars, soars…

…and ends up missing the cloth by a good three feet.

Hook gives a small, halfhearted laugh, trying to keep up the suave facade. Yet you notice the way his shoulders slump forward, the way his body stiffens in an embarrassing shock.

Part of you feels a wickedly twisted satisfaction at his failure—but as soon as you recognize it for what it is, you shove it away, repulsed at the thought of you even coming close experiencing such an emotion. Plus, the majority of you feels rather disappointed at the undesirable outcome. Whether it’s Hook’s chagrin rubbing off on you, or the voice in your head whispering that you, as his teacher, failed at your job, you can’t help but feel a bit let down at his messing up.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s try again,” you say softly, your usual eager-to-help manner coming back at the sight of someone needing comforting.

And so, Hook tries again. And again. And again.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth try, he puts the wand back down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you, love. No matter how hard I try, it’s simply not working.” You sigh, looking at the floor before you, which was now littered with disks. “Hey, at least you got closer each time! That’s still progress.” You attempt to raise his spirits a bit, but he just fixes you with a look that tells you he’s not one to fall for your false positivity.

“Uhm…” You hesitate, not quite sure what to do next or how to fix this. “How about you see how I do it, and try to copy that?”

Hook gives a small nod and you fish out your wand, pulling up your sleeves and taking a deep breath to prepare. Focusing on one of the disks on the table, you start the particular movements. Up. Swish. Circle. Flick!

Both of you watch in somewhat astonishment as the ring curves perfectly through the air, flying with grace, as it lands directly in the center of the cloth.

Hook looks at you with raised eyebrows. Although that little part of you wants to rub it in his face, the fact that a hero, out of all people, bested him, you decide that torturing him with your teasing is only going to make him less likely to get the spell right.

“You see that? Now, try to copy it yourself,” you instruct.

And so, Hook makes a few more attempts, landing closer to the cloth each time, now only a couple inches away—yet never actually making contact with it.

You study his movements carefully as he casts the spell, trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong. After a few more of his failed attempts, you decide to try a different approach.

“Okay, watch me do it again, but this time come hold my wand from behind so you can get a feel for how I cast it,” you say, glancing up at Hook. “After all, it’s all in the wrist.” You recite a line your mother always says, one that often replays in your mind as you cast a spell. In your opinion, her guidance is the main reason that you’re so good at spells.

You’re still sitting down in your chair, pushing it in a little to provide room for him to come up behind you and reach your wand.

You were expecting Hook to get rather close; after all, there aren’t many ways for two people to hold the same wand in the position you were in without a tight proximity. What you weren’t expecting was the way he comes up from behind you leisurely, deliberately. The way his chest presses into your back as he leans in, arm brushing against yours as he extends it towards the wand. The way you can feel his exhales on your skin, breathing down your neck—literally—causes goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. The way his natural aroma engulfs you completely, overwhelming your senses all at once. How his large hand feels on yours as he places it on top, curling his fingers around the wand—and yours, as well. The way you can feel the smirk dancing on his face, looking down at you with what you expect to be half-lidded eyes.

And the way your heart races, good heavens. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you just ran a marathon. Your body simultaneously heats up and freezes at his touches, no matter how small, your mind becoming overly aware of every point of contact you have with him. You fight against the overstimulation flooding your senses, resisting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your legs, while hoping that the wand doesn’t slip out of your hand as perform the incantation.

Truth be told, although you definitely won’t admit this to anyone: you really haven’t had much experience with romance, or anything of the sorts. All your life, you’ve focused on doing good deeds and keeping up with your studies, aiming to be the best of the best in the hero world. Which is probably why no boy has ever taken interest in you; instead of going to dances or out on dates, you've always spent your Friday nights locked away in your room, studying hard to make sure you ace your exams. Plus, with your goody-two-shoes streak, you aren't exactly the most sought-out person in your class.

Which is why with the way Hook flirts with you, and now, the way you can feel his inhales and exhales against your skin—subconsciously trying to match the rhythm of his breathing—your brain is short-circuiting. The lack of romantic attention you’ve received your whole life is behind why you don't know how to react to Hook's antics, while still internally freaking out at his movements and words.

You inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your quivering hand and hope that Hook doesn’t notice your reaction. But after the amused little hum he gives, your embarrassment grows by the second. Trying your best to focus on the task at hand, you say, “Okay, here goes.”

Up. You feel Hook’s grip tighten around your hand, just a little bit but still enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Swish. The disk vibrates with extreme intensity, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll break apart, despite the metal structure.

Circle. As you circle your wrist around, you feel Hook’s arm rub against yours even more, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, the things this man is doing to you.

Flick. You flick the wand towards the cloth yet again, jerking your head sideways to follow it as it flies across the room. Agonizing in how it ignites every nerve in your body, you feel Hook’s head brush against the top of yours as he follows your movements, watching the disk soar.

It seems, for a minute, as if it’s going to land right on top of the previous one. But to both your shocks, it falls just outside the borders of the cloth, barely touching the edge.

Your face absolutely burns in embarrassment, palms dripping with sweat now. Hook tilts his head towards yours—which you feel all too well—as he says, far closer to your ear than you would’ve liked, “Well, it seems like even the master makes mistakes, love.”

Fuming, you finally give into the urge and drop the wand to wipe your hands on your clothes. Screw him, you mentally curse. It’s all his fault. I’ve never messed up this spell before.

And as much as you want to blame him, you know that it’ll do you absolutely no good to tell him the fact that he was so close to you made your brain short-circuit to such an extent that you messed up a spell you could do since you were five.

You shake your head, refusing to accept your failure. “No, I…I don’t know what happened. It must have been a faulty disk. Just…I’m going to try again.”

Hook raises his eyebrows at you—or at least, you’re pretty sure he does, as you can’t see him from behind. You grab your wand again, and without even telling him to do so, Hook leans in and places his hand back over yours, your fingers trapped between his and the wand.

Internally, you find yourself growing impossibly more annoyed at him. Honestly, did he really have to go back to that position, the one that made you mess up the spell in the first place? You take a deep, steadying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Hook and how his dark brown eyes, beautiful and rich like the bark of the trees back in Oz, are boring into your skull right now. You simply can’t afford to get distracted again. Messing up the spell once is one thing—sure, everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? But twice? It would be absolutely inexcusable.

Twice would mean that you are not as adept as you thought you were, not talented enough in the one thing that you've been sure of for your whole life.

Remember the words.

Up, swish, circle, flick!

Fueled by your self-directed rage, you ensure that every movement you make is precise, sharp, and without a single tremor going through your hand. This time, the disk slices through the air with a clean, aerodynamic curve, and lands…

…right on top of your first one.

You beam, regaining your former confidence in your spellcasting abilities.

“The master may sometimes make mistakes, but they’re still the master,” you gloat. “Now come on, you need to practice till you get as good as that.”

You and Hook spend quite some time on practicing the spell, with you giving him pointers and him—surprisingly—improving. It seems as though your hands-on demonstration really helped him, as his skills greatly improved.

Soon, in every set of ten rings he practiced on, he was consistently getting six or seven of them within the boundaries of the cloth, with one or two more landing on the edge, half-in.

After one round where he managed to get nine of the disks touching the cloth—his personal best so far—you decide he needs something even more challenging.

“Woah, that was a really good round,” you praise. Hook turns to face you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that his normal smirk seems a little less snarky and a little more…genuine.

“Still not as good as you, though, love,” Hook replies. You can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his nonchalant front, especially when it comes to academics, but the pride in his eyes and the earnest grip on his wand tell a different story. Honestly, you like him better this way. Less of him pretending to be a bad boy villain, and more of his real personality.

And in this moment, as you subtly study his features and think about his change in behavior over the past few hours, a thought that’s never even come close to crossing your mind suddenly pops up. What if villains, just like heroes, feel pressured to uphold a certain facade? The same way that you’ve always felt like you just have to be good, no matter the cost, no matter how hard it is for you, maybe villains feel the same way. Maybe they believe they always have to be bad, troublesome, and cruel. Even if that’s not who they truly are.

And through the lens of your new insight, you start seeing Hook in a different light. Just like how you feel as if being good and helpful and cheery all the time is a burden, how sometimes you wish you could just let loose and be selfish, maybe villains feel like being evil is a burden. Maybe Hook feels compelled to act smug and suave, even though that isn’t who he truly feels like being all the time.

You begin to feel a deep sense of guilt for judging him based on his demeanor and criticizing his performance in class. Reflecting back, you realize that you had been unnecessarily harsh on him for something that is likely beyond his control. Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you think, shame burning your cheeks.

Shaking off your remorse, you put on another bright smile and try to respond as cheerfully as possible. “Hey, it’s still a huge improvement from sending the rings flying on top of a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Or at innocent bystanders’ heads!” This time, you don’t encourage him because you feel pressured to do so, or because that’s who you know you’re supposed to be. You do it because deep down, in your heart, it’s what you feel like saying.

“Hmm, true,” Hook replies, angling his head to the side as he considers your point, the smallest of smiles still dancing on his lips.

“Now, for your final test.” At your statement, Hook raises a brow. “You need something different, something truly challenging. Something to prove your mastery of the Aiming Spell…”

You rack your brain for ideas, but nothing comes to mind. After a moment in silence, Hook speaks up. “I may have an idea.”

Glancing over at him, rather surprised—you were the teacher, after all—you gesture for him to go on.

“Go stand over there by that wall,” he instructs, motioning with his hook to the wall opposite you two. “And put your hands up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, fixing him with a look of wariness and doubt. You don’t move for a second, still too distrusting of him as you try to imagine what standing in that position has to do with casting a spell. Noticing your hesitation, Hook nods towards the wall again. “Well, go on, love.”

Still suspicious of him, you cave in and walk over to the far side of the room. Pressing your back against the wall as you raise your hands up, the position makes you feel as if you've just been caught red-handed in the midst of a crime. Hook still stands by the table, waiting patiently. You try to think back to the textbook pages you went over with him, wondering if you had accidentally taught him some sort of attack charm that he was planning to use on you.

Feeling your anxiety build, you wriggle your left fingers, wrapping your thumb and middle finger around the base of your pointer. You always wear a special, very pretty ring on that hand, a gift your mother gave to you a few years ago. Fiddling with it while twisting it around and around helps to soothe you, especially when you feel nervous.

But this time, when you go to repeat the same movement you always do, you feel the absence of the familiar metal surface and engravings etched into it. Glancing up at your hand, you confirm that your ring is indeed missing. The only trace of its former presence is the two parallel, circular indents in your skin from wearing it for so long.

Your panic skyrockets now at the loss of one of your favorite possessions, practically forgetting about Hook and the unease that accompanied his bizarre request. That ring had come with a special message; the night you got it, your mother had told you, “Remember when you were younger, and I told you that people are either good or bad? Well, that’s not quite true. No one is really black or white. We’re all just shades of gray. Some people are lighter gray, and some people are darker gray. And although we might be different shades, we all fall under the same color. Remember that, Y/N.”

And you have remembered it. Every time you go to toy with your ring, those words echo in your mind. Your mom had embedded the ring with a marble featuring a swirl of many different shades of gray, a reminder of the message that came along with it. You were too young to truly understand her words back then, but now, especially in these recent moments, you think you’re starting to fully grasp what she meant.

Snapping back to the present, you realize the serious problem you have at hand. “My ring!” you cry. “I could have sworn I had it when I came here…”

“Looking for this?” Hook’s smirk is back in full force. His left arm is raised, and on the crest of his polished metal hook, your precious ring glimmers under the golden lights projected from the ceiling.

“You…! When did you even…” your voice trails off as your mind catches up to your mouth. It must have been when he leaned in, while you were demonstrating the spell. That was the only time he had gotten close enough to you, although you don’t know how in the world he nicked it off your finger without you having the slightest hint.

Then you remember, quite painfully, how flustered you had been in that moment. If you were so distracted that you couldn't even cast a simple spell right, then you certainly wouldn’t have had enough brainpower to notice a skilled thief steal from you.

“Hey! Give that back!” you exclaim, huffing angrily, a frown etched deep into your face.

“I will, darling,” Hook replies smugly. “Now, raise your hands up again. And don’t wiggle your fingers around this time.”

“Give me my ring back first!” you demand, your previous annoyance towards him coming right back.

“Let me do this first, and then you’ll get your ring. Hands up.” At your glare, Hook tilts his head to the side and gives you a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Well, of course not, is the first thought that pops into your mind. You’re a liar and a thief, and above all, a villain.

But then you remember your mother’s words, your earlier revelation and how, just for a moment, you glimpsed Hook through a different light. So, although you definitely won't go as far as saying that you trust him, you still empathize with him enough to give in to his request.

Wordlessly, you raise your hands back up to your sides, palms facing in front of you, while fighting the urge to fidget again. You debate whether or not it’d be best to close your eyes for this, but you ultimately decide that if Hook does try to pull any more of his little tricks, all your senses should be sharp and aware.

And so you stand, frozen, as Hook raises the wand. For a second, you think he’s going to cast the spell on you. But instead, he uses his good hand to remove the ring from where it’s stuck in his hook, instead placing it dangling from the tip. He points his wand at the ring, repeating the maneuvers you two practiced so many times.

Up. The ring lifts off his hook and levitates just in front of him.

Swish. It starts vibrating like the disks, but due to its small size, your cherished ring begins to rotate on its axis.

Circle. With Hook’s circular movement of the wand, the ring’s spinning accelerates, locking on to its target—whatever that is.

Flick. For one final time, Hook flicks his wrist, this time towards you.

You watch, your heart pounding as fast as ever, as the ring—your ring—curves through the sky as it falls, getting closer and closer to you. You slam your eyes shut for just a beat, unable to bear the anticipation, before remembering your earlier rationale again.

Eyes flying open instantly, you regain your vision just as the ring falls, falls, falls, landing…

…directly on your finger.

But not the finger that you previously wore it on. Your eyes widen again in disbelief as it slips perfectly around your ring finger.

“Uh…I…uhm…” you stammer, confused and shocked and overwhelmed with far too many things at once to form a coherent sentence. How in the world did he cast such a precise Aiming Spell, in a situation where it wouldn’t have succeeded had he been even a centimeter off? And if he was so precise with his location pinpointing, then why in the world did he put it on your left ring finger??

“Come on, spit it out, love,” Hook replies teasingly. “You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Your mind is working far too hard for you to shoot him a glare, but you mentally do it anyway. “That was…impressive,” you finally admit, although you wish you didn’t when Hook’s smug grin grows twice as wide. Ugh, his ego is already big enough. I did not need to inflate it like that.

“Could you always cast the spell that well?” you ask, still stunned at his precision. You honestly couldn’t see how anyone who had been sending disks flying all across the room a mere few hours ago was now casting spells with the accuracy of someone who had been doing this for years.

“Why, of course not. You saw how I was earlier.” Hook’s grin grows even wider as he adds, “It’s all because I had a wonderful teacher.”

You still frown at him skeptically, walking back towards the table where he stands. “I highly doubt it’s because of that. I mean, I don’t know if even I could pull something like that off with such little practice.”

At this, Hook gives a little laugh. “What do they say, the student exceeds the teacher?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, they call it ‘beginner’s luck.’ You should be happy you got it right this time, because you might not get so lucky on your exams.”

Hook grins again, and as much as you detest the pleasure he gets from teasing you—and though you’d never admit it—a small, dark gray part of you enjoys the playful banter between you two.

“That’s why I have you, darling. If I ever need more help, I’ll know who to run to.” He leans in close to you, so close, until his mouth is right next to your ear. You start having flashbacks to your previous experiences with Hook being in a close proximity, and the combined feelings from both your memories and his current actions causes your body to heat up in a way you didn’t even know was possible.

He tilts his head down ever so slightly towards you, his lips feathering across your ear. “And you won’t be able to get out of helping me, my little goody-goody.”

Your mind is absolutely spinning at his words, his touch, his presence, his everything. You desperately struggle to formulate some sort of response, but just as you open your mouth, ready to question his choice of ring placement, a deep, low horn sounds, reverberating off the walls.

Curfew.

Hook breaks away from you as you glance down at your wristwatch. The clock shows exactly 10:00. Gods, how did the time pass by so quickly?

You glance back up at Hook, deciding to ignore the way he so alluringly whispered in your ear just seconds ago. “Well, uh, we have to get going, then,” you awkwardly say, scratching at your neck.

Hook stands there for a moment, staring at you whilst completely motionless, making you wonder what he’s thinking and what he’s planning to do. Just as you’re about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, he reaches his good hand out, grabbing your left one. He holds it delicately in his hand, his palm cupped upwards with your fingers resting gently on top.

Slowly, and while keeping his head up just enough to maintain eye contact with you the entire way down, he bends into a bow in front of you. Only does he avert his gaze when he finally reaches your hand, looking down at your ring, which still sits on your ring finger, as he places a kiss on the bright stone.

He peers back up at you, deep brown eyes wide and expressive.

“Until we meet again, m’lady.”

on to part 2! ->

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: the demons I had to fight to not name this "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" haha. anyways thanks for reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 months ago

Text

Up for Debate (Male!Reader x Sam Winchester)

@magicstarbits How about college!Sam Winchester meet cute with male reader? Btw love all of your work (:💛

Sam has this in the bag.

With Halloween around the corner, the professor for his college Public Speaking and Debate course has decided to get playful.

She's set a challenge. The class has been set into pairs, each arguing opposite sides of a hypothetical legal case.

The catch is that the debate is over legal questions regarding different traditional Halloween monsters.

Sam has been assigned vampires, specifically the question of whether someone becoming a blood thrall should have any legal value in court in regards to property, protections, and marital status.

Sam is prepared to argue the relationship cannot be legally valid due to the inherent power balance of being in thrall to a vampire. And of course because vampires are, of course, monstrous.

He doesn't know his opponent well, so he makes a point to ask, and you two meet for lunch at a coffeeshop just off campus.

And just his luck, he slams right into you just outside, your books clattering to the ground with loud thuds, though he reaches out and catches you, leaning over you to leverage his own core to keep you from tumbling.

"Whoa! That's one way to win the debate!" you joke, and Sam starts to laugh as he helps you straighten and then you gather your things up together.

"Trust me, I like to win fair and square."

"I mean, you're... wow, you're... solid." you respond awkwardly, still marveling that this guy barely even budged when you ran into each other.

"I... used to play a lot of sports." Sam explains lamely, the excuse sounding weak. "My dad was really into that."

"Ah, okay. That makes sense."

"Hey, how about I treat you to lunch here then? I'd hate to knock you over AND make you pay."

"Not until the debate, right?"

"Exactly." Sam grins, and holds the door for you.

You two discuss the assignment, the sources you both are looking at, and then the conversation drifts to everything and anything.

Movie and book recommendations, hopes for the future, your majors, stories from being kids...

Before he knows it, Sam has spent two hours with you, your drinks and food long gone.

"This has been great!" you grin. "I do unfortunately have to get to class. Got a late lesson to catch."

Sam nods. "Well, can we do this again?"

A pause, a horrifying moment that Sam freaks out during, thinking he's overstepped.

"Absolutely. Here, I'll give you my number. Text me."

Sam is almost speechless as you put yourself in his contacts.

"I'll... run into you later." You tease. "Not literally next time."

"Y-yeah. Sorry again about that."

Sam cannot stop grinning.

The debate is fun as hell. He's surprised by the points you make, advocating for the need to grant legal protections to the thralls, in order to provide protections - you argue that these relationships will happen, and it's better to have something in place than nothing. If less than consensual, it gives the victims some protection. If fully consenting, it still provides some security.

He really likes your take on it, though he does his best to win.

And after meeting you at least once a week for a good long semester, he asks if you'd like to go on a real date.

You go driving to the beach late on the friday of a long weekend, and he takes you stargazing.

You lay together on the hood of the car, pointing up and making up constellations.

There aren't many stars, but that doesn't stop either of you.

And when he rolls over, shaggy hair brushing your forehead as he leans in, you lift your head up to meet him, lips brushing together before he cups the back of your head and you full on make out.

You give into to it, and you both spend a lovely night together, cementing each other as boyfriends.

His hand is almost always entwined with yours, loyal and sweet. He can't get enough of your kisses.

Because with every discussion, every debate...

...he falls in love even more.

#sam winchester x male reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural headcanons #headcanons

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isak-dot-gov · 7 months ago

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Finding Your Balance

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Word count: 2349

My Masterlist :)

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The late afternoon sun streamed into the practice gym, casting long shadows across the court. KK Arnold’s sneakers squeaked lightly as she paced back and forth, her mind racing. The air felt heavier than usual, like it wasn’t just basketball weighing on her today.

For the past week, things had been off between you two. You had always been close, whether it was holding hands in the halls, stealing quick kisses between classes, or staying up late talking about everything and nothing. Lately, though, you’d seemed distant, more focused on your schoolwork, disappearing into textbooks and assignments with a determination KK couldn’t compete with.

At first, KK didn’t mind. She knew how important your studies were and figured things would balance out soon enough. But then days turned into a week, and your responses became shorter, your calls less frequent. When you did talk, you sounded tired, distracted, like your mind was a million miles away. It was starting to get to her.

KK leaned against the wall, her heart sinking at the thought. Was something wrong? Were you pulling away on purpose?

She couldn’t help the gnawing feeling inside her, the voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe you were losing interest, that maybe this was the beginning of the end. The more she tried to shake the thought, the stronger it grew.

"She’s just busy," KK told herself for the hundredth time. But the reassurance sounded hollow now, like she was just lying to herself.

After another night of watching you rush off to finish schoolwork, leaving her with nothing but a quick kiss on the cheek and a half-hearted “I love you,” KK couldn’t take it anymore. She needed advice. Her teammates always had her back, on and off the court. Maybe they could help her figure this out.

The next day at practice, KK found herself fidgeting with her water bottle, eyes scanning the group as they took a break between drills. Everyone was in their usual spots—Azzi and Paige chatting quietly, Aaliyah sitting with her head back against the bench, and Nika stretching nearby. The sound of bouncing basketballs and the rhythmic hum of sneakers on the hardwood filled the air, but KK’s mind was far from the court.

Gathering her courage, KK cleared her throat and stepped closer to the group. “Hey, can I ask you guys something?”

The others looked up, sensing the seriousness in her tone. Azzi tilted her head, eyes softening as she saw the tension in KK’s expression. “Of course. What’s up?”

KK hesitated for a moment, wondering how to even begin. “It’s about my girl…she’s been really distant lately. Like, I know she’s got a ton of schoolwork and stuff, but it feels like we’re not… connecting anymore. I can’t help but think maybe she’s pulling away from me, like she’s losing interest or something.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her worry. KK hadn’t said it out loud before, and now that she had, it felt even more real.

Paige gave KK a sympathetic smile. “That sucks. Have you talked to her about it?”

KK shrugged, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I’ve tried, but every time I bring it up, she just tells me she’s swamped with work. I don’t want to add to her stress, you know? But it’s getting to me. What if it’s not just school? What if she’s getting tired of me?”

Azzi frowned, shaking her head. “I doubt that. You two are solid. But if you’re feeling like something’s off, you need to talk to her.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her voice calm and reassuring. “She probably doesn’t even realise she’s doing it. School can be overwhelming, and it’s easy to get tunnel vision when you’re stressed. I’ve been there before, but the best thing to do is communicate.”

Nika, never one to shy away from giving her opinion, piped up from across the circle. “KK, you can’t overthink this. She loves you, right?”

KK nodded slowly, her chest tightening at the thought. “Yeah, she does.”

“Then trust that,” Nika said firmly. “But also, don’t just sit here wondering. Talk to her. If you keep everything inside, it’s only going to make things worse. Just tell her how you feel. And trust me, she’ll probably be relieved you brought it up.”

KK exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. They were right. She couldn’t keep going like this, pretending everything was fine while letting her insecurities eat away at her. If she didn’t speak up, nothing would change.

Paige reached over and gave KK a pat on the back. “Just be honest. She’s probably so caught up in school she doesn’t even realise how much it’s affecting your relationship.”

KK nodded, grateful for their support. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I don’t want her to feel like I’m adding to her stress, you know?”

Azzi smiled softly. “You’re not. If she cares about you, she’ll want to know how you’re feeling. Just be there for her, and let her be there for you too.”

Practice ended, but the conversation stayed with KK as she made her way back to her dorm. Her heart was still heavy with uncertainty, but now it was mixed with resolve. She couldn’t go another day like this. It was time to talk to you, to let you know how much this distance was affecting her.

Later that evening, after showering and grabbing a quick bite to eat, KK sat on the edge of her bed, her phone in her hand. She stared at your name on the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Her heart raced, but she knew she had to do this.

Taking a deep breath, KK typed out the message:

“Hey, can we talk? I know you’re busy, but I miss you. A lot. I feel like we’ve been distant lately, and I just want to know if everything’s okay.”

She hit send, her stomach flipping with nerves as she waited for your response.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed. It was you.

“Of course, baby. I’ve been so buried in school stuff, but I miss you too. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I’m not around. Can we meet up tomorrow after my last class?”

KK exhaled, relief washing over her. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe things would be okay.

The next day couldn’t come soon enough.

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

The tension that had gripped KK’s heart for days had started to unravel, but there was still so much she needed to say. Your apology had brought some comfort, but she couldn’t help feeling that you both needed to go deeper, to talk about how to keep this from happening again. She wasn’t the type to just brush things under the rug, especially not when it came to you. She loved you too much to let distance—whether emotional or physical—get in the way of what you had.

As you both started walking away from your dorm, your bag slung casually over one shoulder, KK felt her mind racing, but not in the panicked way it had been for the past few days. This was different. It was like she was finally seeing the situation clearly, and now she needed to know if you both were really on the same page.

She gave your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked beside her, and though you looked more relaxed, she could tell you were still carrying some of the weight of the past week.

“You know,” KK started, her voice soft but steady, “I was really scared.”

You glanced up at her, concern flickering in your eyes. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you.” KK looked straight ahead, trying to find the right words. “I know it sounds dramatic, but… when you were so distant, I didn’t know what to think. It felt like I was just watching you slip away and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Her honesty caught you off guard. You had known KK was worried, but hearing her say that she was scared made your stomach twist with guilt. “KK, I never wanted to make you feel like that. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even see what it was doing to us.”

KK stopped walking, tugging gently on your hand so that you turned to face her. Her expression was serious, but her eyes were filled with warmth, with love. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I get it—school is important, and sometimes life just gets in the way. But I need you to know that I’m here for you, and not just when things are easy. You don’t have to shut me out when you’re overwhelmed.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. You hadn’t realised how much you had been trying to handle everything on your own until now. “I guess I didn’t want to burden you. I thought if I just pushed through on my own, I’d figure it out, and then we’d be back to normal. But it didn’t work like that.”

KK’s hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “You’re never a burden to me. If something’s bothering you, I want to know about it. I want to be there for you, just like you’d be there for me. That’s how this works.”

Her touch, her words—they were soothing in a way nothing else had been. You leaned into her hand, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care. I never meant to.”

KK smiled, her eyes softening. “I know. But you don’t have to go through stuff alone, okay? I want to help you, even if it’s just listening or hanging out while you study. I just… I miss being with you. I miss us.”

You felt a pang of regret, knowing that you had let your stress get in the way of something so important. “I miss us too. I’ve been so wrapped up in school that I didn’t realise how much I’ve been neglecting the other parts of my life—especially you.”

KK pulled you into another hug, tighter this time, like she was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you. You hugged her back just as fiercely, the warmth of her body grounding you, reminding you of what really mattered.

After a long moment, KK pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “We’ll figure this out together. But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me that the next time you’re feeling overwhelmed or like you’re drowning in school or life or whatever, you’ll talk to me. I don’t care if it’s at midnight or if you think it’s not important. I just want to be there for you, the way you’ve always been there for me.”

You nodded, emotion swelling in your chest. “I promise.”

The relief that washed over KK’s face was palpable. She kissed your forehead softly, lingering there for a moment before stepping back and taking your hand again. “Good. Now, let’s go get some food before we both pass out from hunger.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the mood instantly. “Deal. I’m starving.”

As you walked toward the dining hall together, the conversation from earlier played on a loop in your mind. You felt lighter, but you also felt determined. You weren’t going to let this happen again. The stress of school was still there, but now it felt manageable. KK was right—you didn’t have to go through everything alone. She was your partner, in everything, and you were going to make sure she felt that too.

When you reached the dining hall, it was buzzing with the usual dinner crowd. KK led the way, weaving through the tables until you found a quiet corner. You grabbed trays of food, and before you knew it, you were sitting across from each other, enjoying the easy conversation that had been missing for the past week.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” KK asked between bites of her sandwich.

You grinned. “Well, I do still have some studying to do, but I figured we could hang out. Maybe you could help me not fall asleep in the middle of my reading.”

KK smirked. “I can definitely do that. And after you’re done, we could watch a movie or something, if you’re up for it.”

You nodded eagerly. “That sounds perfect. I’ve missed just hanging out with you.”

KK’s expression softened again, her eyes meeting yours across the table. “I’ve missed it too.”

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of laughter and light conversation, the tension that had once sat heavy between you both now replaced with a sense of ease. It wasn’t just that you had talked about the distance; it was that you’d both made a promise to be better, to communicate, to show up for each other even when life got chaotic.

Later, back in your dorm room, you set up your textbooks and notes on your desk, but this time KK was there, sitting on your bed, flipping through her phone but glancing up every few minutes to check on you.

“Need any help?” she asked after a while, her voice teasing.

“Maybe just a little encouragement,” you admitted, laughing softly.

KK grinned and came over, resting her chin on your shoulder as she peered at the book in front of you. “You got this,” she whispered. “And after you’re done, you’re all mine.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her presence beside you. “Deal.”

With KK by your side, the stress of the past few days seemed to fade away. It wasn’t that school wasn’t important anymore—it was. But you had found your balance again, with her. You had found your way back to each other.

And that made everything feel a little easier.

..............................................................

#wbb #uconn wbb #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader

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ang3lofdivinity · 7 months ago

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝖲𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖳𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁! ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Relationship(s): Slightly Yandere!Sprout + GN!Toon!Reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst eventually

Format: Short story + headcanons

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, yandere/possessive behavior, otherwise none!

A/N: Sorry for such the long hiatus! School is CRAZY rn. + my life overall :’)). Take this Sprout stuff because I LOVE Dandy’s. Also, do note that the reader is a bit clumsy! Along with the fact this is a bit self indulgent.. (I promise, I’ll make Cosmo x Reader x Sprout stuff soon… trust)

Part 1: current | Part 2: In the works..

Now, this is an interesting circumstance you’ve gotten yourself into!

I wanna guess that you’re a toon that works in the diner along with Sprout, and Cosmo.

Maybe you’re a kinda dessert food item? Like, a Milkshake?

I also wanna say that you’re kinda like a waitress for the diner. Someone who runs out the food, rings in food, assigns people to different tables, etc.

You’re a hard-worker, someone who overachieves in their job. Working extra hours to help Sprout and Cosmo, and so on. You love your job, and you love your best-friends!

You and Cosmo’s friendship came before you and Sprout even knew each other. Sure, you’ve heard him be mention by others, especially Cosmo, but never really met him in person before. Well, up until Cosmo asked if you wanted to work with him and Sprout in the diner, given your experience working within the food industry before and such.

And after your interview and background check: you had officially started working as a waitress for the diner!

Cosmo was your only friend for a while, though you were cordial with Sprout- you just didn’t speak to him as much as you did Cosmo.

Though, that was until you had kitchen duty for the night.

You hummed along to the sound of the song that was playing in your headphones, washing dishes in the back of the kitchen while being oblivious to your surroundings. Placing the wet dishes and silverware on the drying mat in their respective places, you felt pleased with your work today and were in a decently good mood: no rude customers, you didn’t have to clean up most of the diner today… it was all going well!!

Well, that was until afterwards.

You checked over everything, making sure every little thing was in its proper place for the night so you could finally clock out for the night.

See, your job here at the diner is simple: serve as a waitress for the costumers, do any extra work such as doing the dishes after closing hours and sweeping the floors, and then finally clock out for the night. Simple as ever, right?

You enjoy your job. You like living here with the rest of the toons in the neighborhood! Sure, you have those bad days that always get you in a sour mood- but everyone has that problem eventually! It’s not just you. Besides, your friends are always gonna be there to help!

Finishing up your business in the kitchen, you sighed. Today was a busy day, and it had DRAINED you! So now, it was time to go home and relax, eat something, and then pass out for the night. It’s a routine that you enjoy. And on the days that you have off from work are pretty uneventful, but still enjoyable in the long run.

Turning on your heel, you began walking towards the corridor so you could head off and grab your stuff to clock out, before you suddenly stopped.

..why does it feel like you’re forgetting something.

Your brows furrowed, trying to make yourself move forward- but you couldn’t. You physically couldn’t move forward anymore and you have no clue WHY.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to look behind you where you see you’ve left one of the cupboards open! (You swear you closed it, but I guess you just simply forgot to and convinced yourself that you did).

So, you do what you were supposed to do: close it.

But the moment your foot lands when you’re so close to it, though, you feel yourself slipping. Your arms flail wildly, reaching for anything solid to latch onto as the world blurs and spins around you.

With a very futile attempt, you tried to stop your fall by grabbing onto the nearest— ….

…

Something just grabbed you.

Instead of the inevitable crash, you’re caught.

Though, with your eyes screwed shut with fear, you’re too nervous to see what happened. Your breath comes in short gasps as you cling tightly to whatever—whoever—has kept you upright. Clinging onto whatever you can to keep you from getting any more bruises than your clumsy self gets on a normal basis already is better than nothing.

If staying like this means you’re safe, then you’re willing to stay like this for—

“..You good?”

A voice spoke up. It’s.. rather closer than you would’ve thought, it’s almost as if it was right next to you kinda close. This doesn’t sound like someone you know like Cosmo, but it does sound familiar in some way that you can’t put your finger on.

Slowly, your eyes open up.

And what do you see?

..Sprout!

Your best guess is that he probably came into the kitchen while you were walking back, and you hadn’t noticed him until now. Or something banal like that, like in those silly rom-com movies.

To describe Sprout himself… : He’s strawberry that only wears a white scarf with pink stripes wrapped around his neck that also drapes over his back. He has five mint green, simple leaves, three of which rest atop their head while the other two cover his forehead like bangs. He has dark, red blush with three black freckles on each cheek. His limbs are a vivid shade of light red with white gloves covering both hands. You can’t see anything other than that- but you know that he was white and punk striped socks, and a friendship bracelet to match with Cosmo.

Cosmo’s excited look when he showed you his.. it still replays in your mind.

You pop yourself out of your reverie, blinking repeatedly as you focus back on Sprout.

“Oh—yeah—sorry!” You squeaked out, attempting to gather yourself. But you were still too stunned to move, body frozen in place due to the shock. Realizing you weren’t going to get up anytime soon, you sighed, feeling a little defeated.

Sprout didn’t hesitate. “I’ll get you checked out. Here—” he said, scooping you up in his arms before you could protest.

Your face IMMEDIATELY flushed a deep pink as he lifted you bridal style, causing your heart to race even faster.

You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, your embarrassment overwhelming her as you held on tight to him.

It wasn’t meant to be such a romantic gesture, simply just trying to help you!

..right?

“Thank you, Sprout..”

That was your first ever meeting!

Cliché, no?

But: you were safe, alive, and your injuries all got healed up (which were a couple burns on your hands from using water which was too warm, and a few cuts here and there).

You found out the reason that he even caught you in the first place is because he had rounded the corridor when you just started walking back over into the kitchen! He had come to check up on you and your work so far because it was late at night.

You thanked Sprout tenfold, offering to do nearly anything as payback for helping you.

Which he then.. forced you to take some baking lessons with him.

He needed more bakers, after all!!

You wondered how this would turn out…

TO BE CONTINUED..

A/N: IM SORYRYRYE. This is such a bad drabble. It’s 1 am as we speak bro.

#fanfiction #writing #dandys world #dw #dandy’s world #sprout x reader dandy’s #sprout x reader #sprout dandys world #sprout dw #x reader #headcanon #silly #he’s so silly #🕯️ — random angel things #🪦 — writing #🌈🌼 - dandy’s world #🪽 — ang3lofdivinity

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tryingtofindava · 1 year ago

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Could you write for Teen Michael & Fem reader who's the exact opposite of him (kind, girly, nice, ect..) and they are in a relationship?🥰 Thank you!!

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐰 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝! 𝐒/𝟎 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬*ೃ༄

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HIS S/O IS GIRLY!!He just loves total girly girls in general tbh.

He likes that you two are so different from each other, opposites attract ig.

I think he likes girly partners better bcs he gets to call them really feminine pet names.

His pet names would consist of: Darling, Love (He’s British guys, it’s in his blood to call you darling & love.) Baby, Babe, Gorgeous, Angel, Sugar tits. And then they just get progressively worse.

He doesn’t mock you like he does others.

Though, he gets jealous easily. And jealousy with your kindness? Welp, that doesn’t really work well together.

“Babe, I’m telling ya. Justin is a massive prick, why even bother help him with the assignment?”

That’s nothing compared to how he gets when it’s is friends you’re helping…

Michael acts like he doesn’t care about much, but he’s lowkey protective. If someone flirts with you, he’ll get sarcastic, jealous, or flat out step between you and them.

He likes it that you’re always by his side to take care of his injuries. He’s the type of guy to start shit with someone, only to get his ass handed to him. So he likes it when you’re there to clean and kiss the wounds better.

He finds it dead cute when you play games w Elizabeth and Evan. (deadass might give him Abby fever ‘til Evan cries again.)

Take your fake lashes off infront of him, he’ll stare at you like it’s the 1400s and you’ve just committed witchcraft.

He lives off the attention you give him (since he doesn’t get a lotta attention from his parents n shit), he’s a patter merchant for sure.

His idea of a date? Hanging out in the dingy back corner of an arcade, snacking on cheap food, making fun of bad games, and pretending not to be affectionate in public.

He’d take you to the cheap Roller Rink in town, double points if you don’t knowhow to skate and you HAVE to hold his hand the whole time.

He’ll laugh if you fall too. Then feel bad cuz you pout. Then it’s his turn to take care of you if you scrapped a knee!! :D

ALSO SHARES HIS MUSIC WITH YOU!!!

Grunge, punk, anything angry or loud. He’ll roll his eyes if you hate it, but secretly burns you a playlist anyway.

Solid 10/10.

He’s a total charmer.

He thinks you’re a godsend, and in his eyes you can literally do no wrong.

He can still be a jerk, especially when he’s angry or stressed. You might see him go too far with someone and feel weird about it.

If you call him out, he might get defensive at first, but he’ll stew on it later and try to make it right. He doesn’t want to lose you like he loses everything else.

Under all that bravado, Michael thinks he’s already a screw up, and part of him expects you to leave.

He clings a little too tightly sometimes. Not in a needy way but in the way he always walks you home, always wants to know where you are, always checking in on you.

Over time, being with you softens him. You’re probably one of the first people to treat him with patience and kindness, which messes with his head in the best way.

It’s not a redemption arc… But he does start thinking twice. About his actions. About Evan. About who he’s becoming.

Michael HATES overly sappy stuff.

Calls it cringey and definitely rolls his eyes when other couples do PDA…. But then he’s sneaking glances at your hand, subtly bumping your shoulder like he wants to hold it. His justification? that it’s only okay when you two do it.

He acts like he’s not paying attention when you talk about your interests, but he remembers everything. Your favorite snack? The movie you said you wanted to see? Written down in a beat up notebook or scratched into the corner of his school binder.

If you saw it, he’d die. He’d say it’s for blackmail, but… the truth’s obvious.

Thinks you’re too sweet to others, and definitely wants you to toughen up. He doesn’t want ANYONE walking all over you.

And if he found out someone was? It doesn’t end well for them…

There are rare moments after he fights with his dad, or when guilt over Evan creeps in. Where he just shuts down. Gets quiet, withdrawn, almost ghost like.

You might find him sitting alone, hoodie up, not saying anything. And if you just sit next to him, no pressure, no judgment… eventually he’ll lean into you. No words, just silence and shared grief.

In front of others Mike is seen as snarky, mean, always has a joke or insult ready. With you in private? He’s not exactly sweet, but he’s real. He lets the mask drop. His voice softens around you. He’ll lie on the floor and complain about everything while you play with his hair or paint his nails (and he’ll pretend he hates it).

Michael’s got a temper, especially when it comes to people crossing a line with you. Say something out of pocket? Touch you wrong? He’s in their face in seconds.

There has been MULTIPLE occasions where you’ve had to talk him down from a fight.

“Mike, he didn’t mean to bump into me-“ But he’s already preparing to throw hands.

He doesn’t out right say I love you, but he definitely shows it.

It might take forever for him to say those words. But he shows it when he walks you home, when he lets you see the scared parts of him, when he changes just a little for your sake.

And when he finally says it, it’s awkward, whispered, and like it nearly killed him. But it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said.

Michael lives for chaos. If you’re dating him, you either join in on his pranks or you become his unwilling alibi.

“You didn’t see anything, babe,” he says, smirking as a bucket of water tips over the door onto some poor freshman.

Though he acts clueless…

Michael’s not dumb, he’s actually sharp as hell… But he hates authority, so he tanks his grades and acts like he doesn’t care. You see through it. You catch glimpses of the boy who reads weird horror novels, quotes movies you’ve never heard of, and actually gets people more than he lets on.

Every compliment is wrapped in sarcasm. “Wow, you’re not completely useless today. I’m so proud.”

But sometimes his voice cracks a bit just enough that you can tell he actually means it. If you call him out on it he’ll deflect with, “Whatever, don’t get all sappy on me.”

If you’re dating him, you’re definitely getting detention at some point. He’ll convince you to skip class or pull some harmless prank, and suddenly the school staff’s on your case.

But if anyone blames you too hard? He immediately takes the fall. “It was my idea. Back off. They didn’t do anything.”

Mrs and Mr Afton adore you!! Think you’re a good influence on him. And you’re always welcome in their home, you even get invited on family trips.

Michael does stupid stuff with his friends, smoking behind the school, sneaking out, trespassing in weird abandoned buildings but he’s weirdly careful when you’re involved.

“If you’re coming with us, you listen to what I say,” he’ll mutter. “I’m not dragging you into something that’s gonna get you hurt.”

Definitely sees your femininity and sweetness as weakness. Which definitely causes some arguments but after he’s had his petty moment he’s immediately crawling back to you.

You are the one person he can’t lose. And that terrifies him. It’s why he pushes you away sometimes, acts like he doesn’t care because deep down, he thinks he doesn’t deserve love after what happened to Evan.

SOZ THIS TOOK FOREVER TO COME OUT IVE LITERALLY BEEN BRAINDEAD FOR WRITING FOR LIKE…EVER.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #Micheal Afton x reader #micheal afton x you #Micheal Afton x y/n #five nights at freddy’s x reader #five nights at freddy's #william afton x reader #teen michael afton x reader #teen Micheal Afton

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lvlybin · 9 months ago

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𖦹 ̼ ᮫ DUMB N POETICᘞ̸⠀ ׁ ₊ KIM JI WOONG

summary ༝༚༝༚ … when you received your assignment for the professor you would study under for your student teaching, you were ecstatic. and when you met Dr. Kim, things got even better. he was intelligent, helpful, kind, and not to mention extremely handsome. he also seemed to not care about the fact that you were supposed to have no romantic relationship with him. and Jiwoong also seemed to think that you were too dumb to notice all of the things he was doing behind your back. but God forbid if you ever tried to leave him in the same fashion he never hesitated to do with you 18+ MDNI

wc 12082 ! ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა ۫ ੭̲ 𝓴jw & 𝓯!reader ⊹ teacher x student teacher, university!au ( short n sweet mini series ) ( library )

爱 ࿁ ⠀ ˚⠀ warnings … VERY oc Jiwoong (he would never act like this), toxic!Jiwoong, cheating, manipulation, age gap of 5 years, self-doubt, my attempts at writing angst, there’s some lowkey messed up things in this so be warned ︩︪ ׅ

✉️ thank you for all of your guys’ support and patience! didn’t expect to get this carried away with this fic, but o well. this IS NOT PROOFREAD lol, I wanted to get it out so I’ll come back around to editing it soon!

18+ warnings ... unprotected p in v sex, dry humping, nipple play, cum play?, Jiwoong really likes kissing, lowkey a possession kink

The amount of effort you put into everything was one of the qualities you admired most about yourself. Being hardworking was so satisfying to you, following the rules, and doing what was right. Those things set you on a solid path to follow your dream. Sure, you had never thought you would’ve wanted to become a teacher, but as you got older, you found yourself thriving whenever you spent time with kids. Surprisingly, instead of finding it draining, you were rejuvenated by helping them, and the thought of having a positive impact on such young minds was what ultimately drove you to pursue teaching. Everything that everyone has ever told you about the profession: “The pay doesn’t match the workload,” “You’ll get tired of it before the end of the first year,” “Are you sure you have the patience to work with kids?” never deterred you from it.

You wanted to teach kids about the qualities that were so important to you.

The years of schooling passed by quickly for you, concentrating on becoming the best you could and spending time with your friends to make sure you didn’t miss out on the university experience. And it was fun, the time of graduation seemingly so far away. Until it wasn’t, and the program was beginning to sort out the final hurdle that your class had to get through–student teaching. Teacher assisting, whatever you wanted to call it, the assignments were slowly passed out, and while your peers received locations at surrounding primary and secondary schools, you were one of the few who would work at a university.

“We think that a higher level of education would suit you better. You’re one of the best students we have in this program.” Was what your professors had told you when you’d requested to switch to a primary school. You were flattered, of course, your hard work was being recognized, but you didn’t understand why you would be working with an older group of students that might as well be as old as you when you were studying to work with younger kids.

And your plans to switch anyway were rudely interrupted when the email from the professor you would be working under came through. It was the basics: excited to be working with you, this is what we’re doing this semester, here’s what I need you to prepare for… etcetera. Signed Dr Kim. Maybe it was a bit immature of you to complain to your friends about this opportunity, but you proceeded to despite it.

Giselle’s eyes widened when you mentioned who you were studying under.

“Are you being serious?”

You had furrowed your eyebrows and nodded, confused at her surprised tone.

“YN-ie, Dr Kim is like, a big deal– didn’t even know he took student teachers…”

You huffed out a breath, annoyed as you scribbled over your notes a bit. “Yeah, well, then you can have him. All I wanted was to work with some primary students but nooo–”

“Older kids won’t be half the trouble little kids will be,” Giselle mumbled, and you figured she was probably thinking about her own assignment.

“Little kids wouldn’t judge me half as much as these older kids will,” you countered and that was that.

The thought still circled around your mind as you arrived at the university for your first day, nerves practically eating you alive as you navigated your way to Dr Kim’s classroom. Your parents had always taught you to be earlier than necessary, and thank goodness for that, considering it took you a good twenty minutes to find the room. You knew this place was big, but you thought that the online map would’ve been at least a bit more helpful. After asking one janitor and two other professors where Dr Kim’s room was, you finally approached the door.

Softly, you tapped your knuckles against the wood a few times. On the other side, a warm voice called out, “It’s open!” Another rush of adrenaline ran through you as you sucked in a deep breath, gripping the papers of the requirements for your program in one of your hands as you pushed open the door.

That breath was instantly stolen from you as you peeked inside, the man sitting at the desk in the corner of the room was more attractive than any other person you’d met before. Like an idiot, you stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes trailing over his sharp facial features, the curve of his pale pink lips, the way his glasses were sat on his nose, and how his dark hair was pushed back in a way that was clearly careless to him but looked anything but. You tried to ignore how his white button-up shirt clung to his arms and chest as he turned in his chair to look over at you. Suddenly, you felt very self-conscious about the black blouse and brown dress pants you were wearing.

“Ms Kang?” You blinked harshly as his uttering of your last name snapped you out of your thoughts.

A smile forces its way onto your lips as you take a step into the hall, closing the door gently behind you. “Yes, hi, nice to meet you,” you say, tilting your head in a small bow. You think your brain short circuits as he smiles back at you, but you can’t really tell.

Dr Kim leans back in his chair, “Nice to meet you too. Are you excited for your first day?”

No, you think to yourself as you remain across the room from him.

Instead, you keep the smile up as you nod slightly. “I’m excited. Mostly nervous though.”

He chuckles as he gestures for you to come over to his desk. The sound of the heels of your shoes clicking on the floor resounds throughout the space as you approach him. Unfortunately, he’s even more perfect up close. “Don’t be. You’ll be great, not that I’m having you do much today anyway.” You do your best to follow his words, eyes flicking everywhere but his own.

You miss the way Dr Kim tilts his head a little. “Hey,” he says, his voice the epitome of comfort to you already, and your eyes finally move to meet his. It’s difficult for you to decipher what he’s thinking, to tell if the caring gleam in his dark irises is real or not. “I’ll be here to help you. You’ll be great,” he repeats and you nod a little.

“Not to sound ungrateful, but I was supposed to be working with younger kids,” you laugh softly and the smile on Dr Kim’s lips doesn’t fade in the slightest.

“You want to work with primary students then?” You nod and he lets out a little sound of acknowledgment. “Well, Ms Kang, from what I’ve heard about you is that you’re exceptionally bright for your age.”

“I’m not–”

He cuts you off, “Ah, none of that.” Dr Kim extends a hand towards you, gesturing towards the bag on your shoulder. “You can just put that in my office and then come back out here. I’m excited to begin working with you.”

You don’t think the flush on your face goes anywhere for the rest of the day. Dr Kim told the truth, for the first day you barely did anything except pass out materials and help him organize things, but it was plenty for you. Thankfully, none of the students seemed to be too interested in you, all focused on the material of the class. And you found yourself falling into the same trap.

It was easy to understand why Dr Kim had the reputation he did, the way he spoke captured everyone effortlessly. You could tell he was intelligent and he was so well-spoken that he made even the most boring material seem interesting. The end of the teaching day was there before you could process it.

Small talk was made between you and Dr Kim as you stood at the podium at the side of the room, collecting and sorting through lecture notes from the day as he sat at his desk, grading something that according to him was from the previous week. As you finish, you glance over at him, collecting the papers in your hands before walking back over to his desk.

“All done,” you say quietly, setting the stack down on the corner of the furniture. Dr Kim looks briefly over at you as he nods his head once.

“Thank you for helping me with that.”

You laugh a little, “It’s my job.”

He smiles, “I know it’s your job, but I wanted you to know that I appreciate you helping me with these things.” Dr Kim pauses for a moment before continuing. “Good job today, I’ll have you get more involved as the week goes on. Hopefully, by next week you’ll be ready to teach some of the lessons.”

“Sounds good,” you agree. A beat of silence.

“And… I want you to know that I’m here to help you if you need anything,” Dr Kim says and when he looks up at you, you have to push away the way your heart speeds up. “I want to know if you’re struggling, if you don’t understand something, if you have any worries.” The soft look in his eyes appears again, and you can tell this time–it’s true. “This can be a hard career to be in, for many reasons, and I want to be someone for you to lean on.”

You nod again, feeling your face warm up just a bit, and you hope he thinks it’s just the blush that you’d put on that morning. “Of course.”

There’s a satisfied look on his face as he turns back to his monitor. “You can head home for the night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Slightly dazed, you quickly retrieve your bag from his office before going to leave.

“See you tomorrow, Dr Kim! Have a good night,” you call to him as you open the door to his classroom.

“You too,” you hear him say. “And YN?” The use of your first name stuns you a bit, for more reasons than one, and you glance over your shoulder to look at him.

“Yes?”

“Call me Jiwoong.” Suddenly, the students judging you was no longer your main concern.

The rest of the week passes by in a blur, and you find yourself meeting those expectations that Jiwoong was hoping for. Students began letting you help them with things they didn’t understand, Jiwoong was letting you sit next to him and watch as he graded papers (no matter how boring it seemed), and you found yourself becoming comfortable. Any doubts you’d had about working with university students melted away because, not to jinx yourself, but it was surprisingly easy. Especially with Jiwoong helping you every step of the way.

You weren’t faring any better with his presence, every little compliment he gave you only made your cheeks warm as you would try to stifle a smile and avoid eye contact. Not that you would see the way he didn’t bother trying to hide how the corners of his lips rose. Because if you did, the small crush you had would only grow. You hated admitting it, but yes, it was a crush. A small, tiny, school-girl crush that you were positive at least half of Jiwoong’s female students had on him as well. It almost couldn’t be helped–he was so kind, he handled you with such ease, and he was so knowledgeable.

There was one night when you’d stayed with him in his classroom as it grew dark outside, expressing your worries for your future. Maybe it was wrong to open up in the way you had to someone who was supposed to be your mentor, your superior, but you had anyway. There was just something about him that made you feel so comfortable, so safe. You trusted him easily, and you barely began to notice the way things were progressing.

About two weeks after you’d begun student teaching, Jiwoong had messaged you late on a Saturday night.

The text itself wasn’t anything that should’ve been suspicious or out of the ordinary, just an update on a task he wanted you to complete over the weekend, it was the time he’d sent it at. Almost one in the morning. Against your better judgment, you’d asked him why he was up so late.

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

Sometimes I lose track of time when I’m grading things.

Sorry if I woke you up.

His response comes quickly, and you roll over in your bed as you think of how to respond.

No, it’s okay. I was up anyway

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

You should be sleeping.

The smile that fights its way onto your lips almost makes you forget that this man is five years your senior, and technically your teacher.

Too many assignments that I don’t understand that need to be done by Monday.

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

Call me.

So you did, and for half an hour he did help you with the work you had been struggling through, but eventually, the topics began to change. What did you do that night? What did you have for dinner? What are you doing tomorrow?

Jiwoong spoke to you like you were an old friend of his, and you hated the way it made you feel. It made you feel important to him, like he was telling you things he wasn’t sharing with anyone else and confiding in you. Even if it was just the type of wine he’d been drinking that night. The hours ticked on, and eventually, his voice grew just a bit husky, cluing you into how he was probably getting tired.

“I’m gonna take your advice and go to bed,” you say softly into the device, your phone lying next to your head on your pillow.

The noise he makes almost sounds like a protest. “What? It’s only… almost four in the morning, jeez–” You laugh softly, feeling your eyes droop. A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “Stay on the phone with me. Please.”

Somewhere in your dazed mind, you know if you were more awake then you would probably be kicking your feet while your heart would beat wildly. “I don’t know…” you mumble, eyes closed now.

“No, please, YN. Just… I like talking with you.”

You sniffle softly, not completely processing his words as you think about how your allergies must be acting up again. “Okay,” you breathe, giving up easily. Jiwoong lets out a breath of relief from the other side of the phone. “‘M gonna go to sleep, though.”

There’s a hint of a smile in his voice as he speaks up again, “You can go to sleep, sweet girl, I’ll stay on the phone with you.” The nickname makes your breath hitch. It feels like those two little words have erased almost every boundary between the two of you, and you nod even though he can’t see you.

“Good night, Jiwoong.”

“Sweet dreams, sweet girl–” You drift off before you hear the rest of his sentence.

The next morning, when you wake up, your phone is dead and you curse at yourself a little for forgetting to plug it in before you fell asleep. As you get up to brush your teeth and wash your face, you plug it in, and when you return, you notice the single message from Jiwoong from about an hour ago.

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. It won’t happen again.

The words are sweet and they make you feel giddy as you unlock your phone.

Not at all! It was nice, my phone just died cause I didn’t have it plugged in :(

Was the frowny face professional? Absolutely not, but neither was falling asleep on the phone with the professor that you were currently studying under. And when he sends back a smiley face, you can’t help but let the thought of him possibly returning your small crush grow a bit.

A little bit of worry creeps in as well as you think about the consequences that could come along with this, but you brush them off before you can consider it for too long. You trusted Jiwoong, he knew what was right and what was wrong. After all, you recall an hour-long conversation the two of you had had about his love for self-help books. If something went too far, he would stop it.

Repeating that thought to yourself is what helps you pluck up enough courage to accept his request to call again that night. And the night after that after you had stayed till almost eight at night in his classroom with him. The two of you hadn’t even gotten any work done, opting for talking about anything and everything as he skimmed the same essay at least ten times.

White noise from your ceiling fan fills your room as you stare at the blades, watching as they spin around and around while you listen to Jiwoong talk about some movie that is coming out soon that he wants to see.

“Is this wrong?” you ask him abruptly when he finishes his sentence. On the other side of the line, he’s quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“For us to be on the phone like this…” you trail off as Jiwoong chuckles a little.

“No. I’m making sure you’re getting the proper amount of sleep you need, remember?”

You scoff, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Cause you’re so boring.”

“You would not still be talking to me the way you do if I was boring.” There’s a double meaning to his words. You’re not dumb, you can tell, especially after working with Literature majors for what was nearing a month.

“...You know what I mean.”

Jiwoong hums, “I do.” His effortless acknowledgment of the subject has you reeling. How could he be so casual about this? Like he couldn’t get in trouble if someone found out about the way you two had been interacting outside of the workplace? “It’s not wrong. We’re both adults.”

“But you’re technically my teacher…”

You feel like you said the wrong thing as soon as the words leave your mouth. Like acknowledging it was making it all seem too real for him, and you hear Jiwoong sigh softly. “Not really.”

You open your mouth to speak but before you do, Jiwoong continues. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, and I know this situation isn’t… ideal. That is, if you feel the same way I do.”

It was like everything else was forgotten for you. Everything about how this shouldn’t be happening in the slightest, how either one of your careers could be ruined if someone ever found out about this leaving your mind because it was just you and Jiwoong now. Jiwoong. Not Dr Kim.

Your heart is racing as you speak softly into the phone, “How do you feel?”

The way he doesn’t say anything at first tells you he’s thinking deeply. Probably considering how to word things without making things seem more taboo than they already were. For a moment, it’s almost like he’s there with you–you can see his dark brown irises and the thin curve of his upper lip, and you can smell one of the custom blends of cologne he loves creating so much. You close your eyes and listen to his breathing, pretending that he’s lying right next to you.

“I like you. A lot,” he says plainly, the man that you know to be so poetic with his words suddenly gone. “You’re the highlight of my day, the person that I rely on to make everything better even though you don’t realize it. I want to see you all of the time, not just in the professional setting.”

You don’t know what to say, don’t know what to think, your thoughts a muddled mess of everything you believed to be right and everything that you had deemed wrong. This didn’t feel real. You must’ve fallen asleep. You pinch your thigh softly as you continue staring at the back of your eyelids. There was no way this wasn’t a dream.

“I keep picturing you across the table from me at a nice restaurant because a girl like you should be spoiled. I want to experience new things with you, I want to watch you achieve your dreams and grow as a person. I… I want to see you when I come home in my t-shirt with dinner ready, and I want to watch you fall asleep, and be there when you wake up–”

“Jiwoong,” you interject. “Come pick me up.”

When he arrives at your apartment, you don’t bother changing out of your pajamas as you lock the door behind you, rushing to the elevator and out into the parking lot. The air feels heavy with humidity as you spot Jiwoong’s car. Every shred of hesitance you have is gone, as you get into his car, breathing heavily as you make eye contact with him. It wasn’t just the temperature that was making you feel warm anymore, it was this feeling between the two of you as he put the car into drive and took you back to his place.

You couldn’t even describe it. Tension wasn’t the right word because it felt like so much more than that. Like you had found the right place to fit your soul and it was being kept from you. Like you were the positive end of a magnet being pulled away from the negative side. You never thought you’d be able to feel so deeply for someone, but as Jiwoong’s hand slips into your own and he guides you into his apartment, the concept of loving someone more than yourself suddenly makes sense to you.

Regret is the last thing on your mind when your back hits the door and his lips are meeting yours. The rim of his glasses knocks against your nose a bit, but all you can feel is his hands gripping the skin of your waist. Jiwoong kisses you like he’s done it before, handling your body against his like you’re all he’s ever known. His tongue gently explores your mouth, his teeth biting down a little on your lower lip as he pulls away to rest his forehead on yours.

“Do you want this?”

You let out a deep breath, “Yes.”

He kisses you deeply again, and you taste the wine he must’ve been drinking before calling you. Jiwoong’s hands are careful as he pushes you back towards his bedroom, laying you back on his bed and the look in his eyes is one that you don’t want anyone else to see as he removes your shoes.

They’re practically glowing as they trail back up to your face, his cheeks are the same color as rosebuds and his lips are swollen from the way he’d been working them against your mouth. Hesitantly, you reach up, fingers removing his glasses from his face. The action is almost domestic, as if it was something you’d done together countless times before. When he blinks softly, you can tell his vision is adjusting, probably a little fuzzy without the aid of his prescription.

His pupils are blown and his lips are slightly parted and, yeah, you don’t want anyone else to see him like this.

Jiwoong lowers himself back over you, body already acting on instinct as he leans to kiss you again. The feeling of the minimal amounts of your skin on his, his scent filling your mind, his hands coming up to hold your face to him as he deepens the kiss has you clutching onto his glasses still in your hand pathetically. His tongue practically licks into your mouth and your heart races at the feelings coursing through you.

“So good… You taste so good…”

“Jiwoong–” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as his lips continue moving against yours. His taste takes over you as his tongue slowly flicks over your lower lip, gently requesting entry for an even deeper kiss.

“You’re so good. I can’t get enough of you. My sweet girl,” he says against your mouth, each syllable muffled by the gentle press of his tongue against yours as his hands slowly glide down your sides, softly tracing over your frame.

All of your rationale is consumed by desire as you press closer to him, his hands trailing down to your hips as he flips over, helping to maneuver you onto his lap. When you feel his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts and dig into your flesh over the thin fabric of your underwear.

“I tried, I tried so hard to resist you. But I can’t help it, YN, I want to enjoy you. Want to feel you.” Jiwoong’s voice is thick with need as he looks at you.

You nod softly. You’ve never wanted anything so badly before. “Please,” you agree.

Jiwoong smiles as you speak. “Do you really want this?”

Trying to think clearly for a moment, you do your best to think of what this could result in. This wasn’t just going to be a one-time thing, you knew that, and you still had a few months left for your student-teaching. But you cared about Jiwoong. You cared about him and you knew that you could make this work. You weren’t dumb.

So, you nod a little again, “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Promise to tell me if you want to stop?”

His nose bumps against yours as he speaks, arms encircling you tighter, his body slowly pushing up to you. Your hands find his face again as he leans back against the pillows by his headboard. “I promise.”

Your heart flutters when his hands slip under the bottom of your shirt. “I’ll be gentle, and I’ll stop whenever you want, I just want to hold you and– and feel you–”

He cuts himself off with a low groan, your hips subconsciously rolling down onto his. You’re glad for the thin layers of clothing you’re wearing as you watch his head tilt back. Jiwoong’s breathing quickens as he moves his fingers down your spine, body continuing to push closer to you and you can feel the outline of his dick through his sweatpants, his length pressing up into your clit easily.

“You want me?”

Jiwoong responds instantly, bodies still moving gently against one another with an underlying need. “I want you. I want this, I want more–” He seems to regain a bit of his control as he lifts your shirt over your head, your skin bare beneath it and his fingers go up to flick at your nipples instantly. You jerk against him, the added sensations making your body move desperately to get more friction on your clit.

“From the first time I saw you,” Jiwoong begins against your skin as he moves his lips from your cheek to your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “I knew you were going to drive me crazy because I couldn’t have you but– God, but you’ll let me have you anyway right?”

You moan weakly, feeling the wetness begin to build up in your panties, “Yes!”

One of his hands leaves your tit to go to your neck, tracing over a bite mark he’d left on the flesh. His voice has a hint of a tremble in it as his breathing becomes heavier, “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything more than I want you. I can’t resist you, can you feel it? Can you feel how much I want you?”

You can, you’re grinding down onto him and it must be painful–how much he wants you.

“I want to hear you, sweet girl, I want to hear you moan, and cry out.” He pinches your nipple softly and you yelp, feeling that coil in your stomach begin to tighten. “I want to see you come undone.”

His hands push you further down in his lap as you let out a plea of his name, teetering right on the edge. It’s pathetic, honestly, he’s barely done anything and you’re still so close. But you’re so pent up from his teasing and his words and how beautiful he is. His smell, his words, how easy this all feels.

“Don’t hold back, YN, it’s okay… I want you to feel good.” You grip at his shoulders desperately, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm hits you suddenly. “There we go, baby, come for me. You’re doing so well.”

Jiwoong doesn’t give you a moment to breathe, moving you so you take his spot against the pillows while he removes his clothing. If you didn’t feel so dazed, you would be able to appreciate the sight of his bare torso more, the way the muscles ripple under his skin as he moves on to his sweatpants. When he’s just in his boxers, Jiwoong presses his lips to your neck again.

He continues to kiss and nibble against the skin, taking his time and enjoying you, just like he said he would. The thought makes your thighs press together, another wave of arousal already passing through you again. You press your face into his hair, breathing in his scent as his teeth meet your neck. Jiwoong lets out a soft, shuddering sigh as you press your nose into the strands, his hands going back to traveling over your bare torso, circling your nipples.

“You’re mine?” His voice is thick with emotion, his words almost slurred as his mouth travels downwards to capture one of the buds in his mouth, suckling it softly and making you whine. You press a hand over your mouth, biting against it and muffling a moan as his hands move over your stomach and near the edge of your panties. He squeezes your hips, biting the bundle of nerves he has between his lips softly.

“Don’t muffle it, baby, I want to hear you.”

Everything about this feels so intimate. Like you’ve never reached this level of connection with another person, and all you can do is continue thinking of him. Your thoughts simply being: Jiwoong, Jiwoong, Jiwoong.

He’s removing your shorts along with your panties, “That’s a good girl… I want to feel more, come on, sweet girl, are you okay? Do you want to go further? You’re doing so well.”

“Yes, I want more,” you respond instantly. You’d be a fool not to and your heart steadies when you glance down to see the smile on his lips.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl, I’m so proud of you.” Jiwoong places one last kiss on your stomach before he leans up to kiss your lips again. Your head is swimming with desire, from being with him, from tasting his skin, from feeling him close to you like this.

You suck in a deep breath when he parts from you. “You can keep going.” His fingers brush over your ribs as he holds your face again, mouth pressing firmly against yours, exploring every inch of you as your bodies meld together. Everything feels so warm and it’s getting hard to breathe, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Please, Woongie, I want it–” The only thing separating your entrance from his cock is the material of his boxers, and you reach down to fumble with the waistband. Jiwoong chuckles softly, lips moving over your jaw. When you finally succeed in pushing them down enough to free his length, he slowly pulls back to look at you.

Jiwoong’s thumb runs over your lips at a speed that truly shows his control. “I want to be the only one who can make you feel like this.” You part your lips, taking the digit into your mouth. He lets out a low, soft moan as you swirl your tongue around his thumb, his eyes closing briefly before he opens them again. His gaze is the darkest you’ve ever seen it as he slides his finger out and away from your tongue.

“I want to be closer to you,” he trails off as he pecks your shoulder, and you groan when you finally feel the thickness of his tip run through your folds a few times before it finally gets caught on your entrance. “I want to know everything about you, want to explore every inch of you, to feel every part of you… I want to know what makes you feel good, how you like to be touched… kissed, every sound you make when I make you feel good.”

His mouth kisses over the shell of your ear as he speaks, “You’re mine. I want you, I want you so badly.”

“I know– I trust you.” It’s the last thing you get out before he’s stretching you open. The thickness of him fills you perfectly, every movement from him making you want to forget taking a moment to adjust and let him fuck you. His mouth is right next to your ear and you can hear every little breath, every little strained whimper leave him as you clench around him, shaping yourself to the shape of his cock.

Finally, after a moment of letting his hips sit against yours, enjoying the feeling of being connected, you whine. “Move, move, you can move–”

It doesn’t take him long to listen to you, thrusts beginning slow and deep as you cry out. His hands trail up and back down your side as he pushes into you at a pace that makes you want to sob from frustration. You feel your head spin as his mouth travels over your neck, lips pressed against your cheek before he kisses you again.

He starts moving a bit more, thrusts sharp as he quickly finds that little mushy spot inside of you, rubbing against it again and again to the point where you’re feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“I’d do anything to have you like this. Always.” You barely register his words, the sound of skin slapping and the wetness of your juices almost drowning them out. Weakly, your fingers curl into his sheets as his pace slows, hips rolling against yours. “I want to be closer to you– closer, I need to feel you more.”

“How–” you get out before Jiwoong’s pulling you up towards him, holding your body against his tightly as his dick gets even deeper inside of you. His movements are shallow, but it feels like he’s in your stomach, and your moans are getting more and more strained as your throat begins to feel raw.

“Look,” he breathes, hand in your hair as he forces you to see where your bodies meet. The sight has you squeezing around him, the build-up already beginning in your lower abdomen again. Your poor clit looks so swollen as your walls stretch to swallow him with each of his movements, a ring of white settling at the base of his cock each time he fully enters you. “You’re so good for me.”

Your body continues pressing against his, and you cry out loudly, eyes squeezing shut.

“S’good… Lift your head back up– I want… I want to be able to–” He stops mid-sentence, his movements beginning to speed back up as he grips you tighter. You try to listen to him, but you think that your muscles are spasming as his mouth meets yours in a messy, passionate kiss. You can feel his body shaking, and you know he’s getting close too.

Jiwoong’s hands release you, and you fall back to lay against the pillows again, lower back arching to try and find his touch again. “Can’t–”

“You can, sweet girl… It’s okay, my baby, be good for me,” he speaks slowly, his words heavy with lust. “Be a good girl– Do it for me.”

“Okay,” you cry a little. Another soft moan slips from Jiwoong’s lips as he tries to get as close as possible to you again, moving his mouth near your ear.

“I’m almost there– Can I… Do you want–”

“Yeah, inside,” you breathe, chest heavy with the labored movement of sucking in air. And it’s barely a few more seconds before your high hits you. The sensation is so strong that your vision goes black for a moment, missing the way that Jiwoong’s eyes lock onto your face, hearing his name spill from your throat as his hips push against yours one last time. His hands grip your waist and his mouth opens with a loud groan of your name as he comes, body shaking lightly as he continues to hold onto you.

You feel warm as his body collapses, the weight comforting as the fuzziness from your orgasm begins to morph into exhaustion. You feel safe, like nothing could hurt you as he laughs shakily, kissing your cheek before he gets up to clean you up. You feel loved when he gets back in bed with you, cuddling you against him.

You don’t feel any regret at all when you wake up the next morning.

Later that week, Jiwoong takes you out on a date. Well, you can’t call it a date. He calls it a “professional meeting” as a joke because nothing about it is professional at all. Not the expensive restaurant he takes you to or how he pays for your meal or how the conversation is much too friendly for a teacher assistant and the professor she’s studying under. Especially not the way he fingers you as he drives you back to your apartment.

The nightly calls continue and so does staying later in his classroom. Things feel like they’re progressing at the normal rate for a relationship. Things feel like a normal relationship and suddenly, a month has gone by.

And you decide to bring it up.

“Are we dating?” you ask him one night, sat next to him at his desk per usual. You had just begun to grade small assignments from students on your own, Jiwoong checking over them once you were done, and he glances over your shoulder at the piece you’re working on. He doesn’t say anything. “Jiwoong.”

“I heard you,” he acknowledges before falling silent again.

Confusion enters your emotions as he continues working, completely ignoring your question. “So…” Suddenly, he groans, removing his glasses and rubbing over his face with one of his hands in a very dramatic fashion. You’re surprised at the reaction, to say the least, feeling your face scrunch up in the way he whined like a child. “What?” you press.

“YN, you know that’s not possible.”

You feel like you’ve been shocked. “So you’ll fuck me and take me out on dates but you won’t make me your girlfriend?”

“First of all, those aren’t dates–” You scoff, leaning back in your chair as you stare at him in disbelief. “And second of all, I’m technically your teacher– it just, a relationship wouldn’t work right now.”

You remember using those words towards him. You hate how he’s using them back towards you, it makes a weird feeling settle in your gut that you can’t really explain. What makes you feel worse is the way he slips his glasses back on and goes back to work like it was nothing.

“What about after I graduate?”

“That’s a ways away.”

“Okay… well, I want a future with you and I want to know where things stand–”

“And I told you where they stand, so drop it.” His tone is sharp, a timbre he’s never used on you before. Usually, he was so gentle with you, and the rudeness in his voice is something you’re not used to, making you shrink back a little.

After breathing heavily for a moment you continue, “Fine.”

“Don’t get short with me.”

Maybe you’re being a little petty. “I’m not being short, Jiwoong, I’m agreeing with you.”

You go back to the paper you’re reading, gripping your pen tightly as you consider what needs to be fixed. Anger is an emotion that you’re not fond of, you hate the way you let it control you, and you try not to focus on the emotion as Jiwoong sits silently next to you. Things feel cold all of a sudden, like a wall had been put up between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” Jiwoong says abruptly, voice soft. You look back up at him to find him holding his hand out to you. Your eyes flick down to his outstretched hand, then back to his face. “Obviously I’ve never been in this situation before. I want to be careful with how we go about this, and I don’t want to date you privately–I want to show you off. It’s what you deserve.”

“It’s okay to have reservations, but I don’t want to waste my time if you can’t see this going anywhere,” you explain, voice matching his. Jiwoong nods in a way you think is supposed to show he understands you.

“Let’s give it a bit more time, okay? There’s no need to rush into things,” he says. And then he smiles a little, and you hate the way it instantly comforts you. Fighting back your own smile, you bite your tongue, which he notices, and proceeds to smile wider. “I care about you, and you care about me. Isn’t that all that matters right now?”

Begrudgingly, you place your hand in his and his fingers wrap around it, squeezing softly, “I guess.”

Against your better judgment, you stop fighting the smile. “Let me take you out tomorrow.” And you agree, because you think you’ve fallen in love with him.

When you arrive at his classroom the next morning, Jiwoong’s speaking with another one of the girls in your program. From the way her hair flows behind her perfectly and her tall height, you know it’s Xiaoting. You haven’t spoken to the girl a lot, but you know she’s very intelligent, or else she wouldn’t be assisting at the same university as you. Quietly, you slip into Jiwoong’s office, setting your bag down while trying not to interrupt their conversation. You stay in the room as you try to watch them through the crack in the door, trying to not make it apparent that you were attempting to eavesdrop. But she’s not there for much longer, and the blush on her cheeks is telling enough, along with her smile as she nods farewell.

That sinking feeling is back in your stomach again, and your heart feels heavy as you exit Jiwoong’s office, trying to look casual as the ugly feeling of jealousy grows within you. He greets you as usual, and you decide to take that as enough reassurance that everything is fine.

Everything is fine as the two of you joke throughout the day, as the two of you talk and work together. Everything is fine as he drives you back to your apartment, telling you he’ll pick you up at eight. Everything is fine as you get ready to go out and everything is fine as you sit on your couch, watching as the clock hits the time he’s supposed to meet you.

Maybe it’s traffic. Maybe he got held up with something else. You try to think of every possible scenario as you sit and wait, letting your mind run wild as you watch the hands of the clock hit nine. And then nine-thirty. When two hours pass you finally get up, trying not to cry as you go get ready for bed.

He hadn’t forgotten. There was no way. He had told you when he was going to pick you up. So what had happened? You want those feelings from the previous days to come back: the anger, the jealousy, but instead all you feel is embarrassment. You feel bad for yourself, and saddened at the fact that the small action that hadn’t even been explained yet chipped away at your trust for the man. You go to bed that night with a heavy heart, a sensation that was slowly becoming familiar to you.

The sound of your alarm is severely unwelcome the next morning. You lay in your bed for a bit, staring at your ceiling fan whirl around hypnotically. It’s easy to debate calling in sick, to want to lay in your bed for the rest of the day and to be dramatic over the fact that you had been stood up. You don’t want to see Jiwoong, but your curiosity gets the better of you. So, you go through the motions of your morning routine, make the drive to the university by yourself, and enter Jiwoong’s classroom to find him alone. You’re silent as you begin preparing the room for the day, even after he approaches you in the confines of his office and tries to give you a quick morning kiss.

A rush of satisfaction goes through you when surprise reads on his face after you dodge his attempt, pushing past him lightly. “YN…”

You don’t respond to him, pretending that you didn’t hear him as you go back into the main section of the classroom.

“YN,” Jiwoong calls again, following you. “Please, what’s wrong?”

Scoffing slightly, you turn to face him. “You really don’t know?”

The clueless expression he sports tells you enough and you press your lips together, nodding slightly. He’d always made you feel important and seen, and now you felt like the complete opposite. “I– wait, YN, I know. I’m sorry–”

“No, you don’t know!” you argue back. “Don’t act like you do, that makes it worse. Standing me up is bad enough, but you can’t even remember the fact that you did it? Do you know how embarrassing that is, Jiwoong?”

He shakes his head softly, trying to approach you again. When his hands try to hold onto yours, you rip them away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, of course I remember, sweet girl, of course I do– and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. The last thing I want you to feel is embarrassment.” You sniffle softly as you listen to him, and this time, you don’t push him away when his hands go to hold your face. “Something came up, YN, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“I want to trust you, Jiwoong, but I can’t–”

“Please believe me, YN, please, I can’t lose you.” Your eyes search his irises for anything that might tell you he’s lying, but all you can see is fear. He might not be telling the truth about what had happened, but he was scared. Scared that you weren’t going to hear him out.

You suck in a deep breath, “What happened?”

“Some teachers decided they wanted to get together and I couldn’t tell them that I already had plans and I didn’t want them to see me texting you and I… I’m sorry, I know it looks bad, but sweet girl, I swear I didn’t do anything to betray your trust.” You weigh his words for a moment as you look at him. If that scenario was true, you could understand where he was coming from. Anyone finding out about this relationship would get you kicked out of the program and cause Jiwoong to probably lose his job.

But that was the thing, you couldn’t tell if this scenario was true.

You wanted to believe him. After all, you loved him and you wanted to believe he would never do anything to hurt you. People always told you you were too forgiving, but you simply just put yourself in their shoes, trying to consider how they were feeling. This was just one mistake Jiwoong had made and when you thought about it, you knew he cared about you. He deserved a second chance.

“Fine.” His entire body relaxes instantly as he lets out a deep breath, pulling you into a tight hug. You feel his nose bury into your hair, inhaling deeply. “But don’t let it happen again. At least text me. Please.”

“It won’t happen again, my sweet girl, I swear.”

His lips press against your hair as he repeats that sentence over and over. And you believe him.

Jiwoong lives up to the promise. He showers you with his affections after that morning, getting you little gifts and taking you out more often. His words are sweet and sound like they could come from Shakespeare himself when he tells you he loves you. Buzzing with excitement and giddiness, you had told him you loved him too. But the thought of you still not being official with him was still planted in the back of your mind. You knew the reasoning, but that didn’t make you feel any better, even as you laid on his chest in his apartment while wearing his shirt.

It became customary for you to spend nights at his apartment after you both said the ‘L-word’. All you wanted to do was see him and to be with him constantly, it didn’t matter what you both were doing. And it seemed like the feeling was returned from him. Jiwoong bought things according to your preferences now and you had a toothbrush that sat next to his. With him, you felt safe, and as time passed, you felt more and more needed by him.

With the weekend finally arriving about three weeks after he stood you up, you had packed a bag, as usual, to go to Jiwoong’s for the weekend. Originally, you had told him you were going to stay back at your apartment and study that night, but as the night went on you missed him more and more. So you’d figured you’d surprise him. Was it crossing a boundary? You couldn’t tell, but you thought that he’d at least be okay with saying hi considering you might as well be his girlfriend at this point. And especially since he loved you.

Standing in front of his apartment door, you knock softly on the wood, forgoing the spare key so you at least wouldn’t barge in and scare him. For a moment nothing happens. You count to ten slowly before knocking again. In his apartment, you hear movement, before there’s the sound of the lock and Jiwoong’s peeking his head out into the hallway.

Your face lights up instantly at the sight of him, hair wet and face flushed. “Hi.”

“YN…” His smile looks forced as he keeps the door mostly shut. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were staying at yours this weekend?”

You take a step closer to the door, waiting for him to let you inside. “Well, I was, and then I was missing you, and I was hoping that you’d let me spend the night, but if not that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, of course, it’s alright, sweet girl, just give me a second to go put some clothes on.”

You think you see a flash of red hair as Jiwoong moves away from the door, closing it behind him quickly. Awkwardly, you stand in the hallway for another five minutes, playing with the strap of your bag as you glance up at the door every now and then. You play up the red hair you thought you saw to your imagination. And from how tired you were. Because who else would be in Jiwoong’s apartment this late at night?

When the door finally opens again, Jiwoong opens it fully, and to your relief, it’s just him. Him in a gray sweater and some pajama pants. He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around you as he kisses your hair. “You tired, sweet girl? It’s pretty late.”

You furrow your eyebrows as he closes the door behind you both. “I guess I could sleep… I was kind of hoping to spend some time with you though–”

“If you’re tired you should go to sleep.”

You laugh a little at the statement, following Jiwoong to his bedroom and dropping your bag on his floor. “Yeah…”

He goes over to his bed, pulling the covers back and motioning for you to crawl in. So you do, cuddling up to his chest like you usually do as he turns on the TV for background noise. For a while, it’s just the two of you talking about whatever, like you usually do, and slowly the tiredness does begin to set in, your eyes drooping as you listen to him ramble on. The soft sound of his voice always does wonders to calm you– a small bump from inside his closet rips that sense away immediately.

“What was that?” you ask, slightly scared.

Jiwoong laughs, pulling you back down to lay on him. “Probably just some shoe boxes that fell over. I’m going through my clothes right now… Why? D’you think it’s a ghost.”

Weakly, you hit his chest, “Very funny.” He chuckles softly once more, grabbing your hand to hold it against him. The lull of his heartbeat gets you to settle back down. Your eyes stay on the screen of the TV as he reaches over to shut off the bedside lamp, casting the room into darkness except for the blue glow from the device in front of his bed.

“I actually have a question for you,” Jiwoong says as you begin to drift off.

“Hmm?”

He pauses, and you know in typical Jiwoong fashion he’s thinking of how to phrase something. “If you’re okay with it… Would you like to officially be my girlfriend?”

The grin finds its way onto your lips easily, and you glance up to look at him. He’s also smiling.

“For real?”

“For real,” he repeats back to you, voice slightly mocking.

You laugh, a sleepy yet loving feeling taking over your heart. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Jiwoong leans down, kissing you softly, and you bask in the sensation of his lips on yours, tongue pressing against yours in a way that somehow feels fond.

He pulls away, resting his cheek on your head, “I love you.”

As you fall asleep, those are the last words you hear, and you quietly repeat them back to him before slipping into unconsciousness. That night, you dream of Jiwoong going back to the entrance of his apartment, hearing him say goodbye to a woman with red hair. When you wake up, he’s still lying right next to you.

You feel so unbelievably happy as the two of you spend the rest of the weekend together and as you both get ready for the day when Monday rolls around. Jiwoong makes breakfast which you happily eat, only for you both to brush your teeth together and for him to sit and watch as you fix your makeup and hair before he drives you both to the university. You feel like you’re floating, like nothing could bring you down as you drop your things off in his office and as he kisses your cheek while you go off to one of the bathrooms.

In the girl’s bathroom is Xiaoting, standing in front of the mirror doing her makeup that she honestly doesn’t need in the slightest. You smile at her briefly, her returning it before you use the toilet and go back to the sink to wash your hands.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder, “Are my eye bags gone?” You glance at her face in the mirror, her skin practically flawless.

“I don’t think they were there to begin with.” The two of you laugh a little as you go to dry your hands.

“Well. I had a long weekend, so I was just double-checking.”

Going back to standing next to her, you watch as she fluffs her eyelashes with one of her fingers. “Was it at least a good weekend? Something about you looks different.”

“Ah, I got my hair done. Red’s cute, but I wanted to go darker for a little.”

You hate the paranoia that shoots through you at the mention of red hair, reminding yourself to trust your boyfriend as you maintain your smile at the older girl, “It’s pretty on you.”

“Thank you,” Xiaoting says sweetly, expression warm. “But, yeah, I had a good weekend. You?”

Subconsciously, your smile becomes a true one. “Um, yeah, the guy I’ve been talking to for a while asked me to be his girlfriend.” Xiaoting lets out a cute gasp that makes you laugh a little.

“Oh, that’s so exciting, happy for you.” She pulls out a lip liner, removing the cap before lifting the product to her lips. “Me, personally, I am taking a break from relationships right now…” she trails off, focusing on her makeup.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, “I thought you were seeing someone though? That’s what Sieun said.”

Xiaoting smirks a little, putting her lip liner away. “Ok, so, don’t tell anyone but I’ve actually been hooking up with one of the professors here.”

“Oh– wow,” you giggle, slightly stunned as Xiaoting nods.

“It’s nothing serious. I think he’s seeing another girl or something, but like– he’s hot and the dick is good so I can’t complain.”

Very girl’s girl of you, you think bitterly, but you can’t blame her. After all, she’s not the only one in a relationship with one of the professors here. “Can I ask who?”

The look she gives you has your stomach turning in a way that makes you almost feel nauseous, “Actually, it’s Dr Kim–”

You don’t hear the rest of the words she says. Everything feels like it goes silent as panic flares up in your chest. Not anger, not sadness, just pure panic because–what did this mean? You think that your hands are trembling as you nod robotically along to her words, cheeks hurting from the way your lips are uncomfortably turned upwards. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening, Jiwoong wouldn’t do this, there was no way. He wouldn’t betray your trust like that. No, Xiaoting was lying, she had to be because Jiwoong loved you.

“YN?” Her voice does little to break you from your thoughts, the shakiness of your panic and nerves still evident as you clasp your hands together.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna get sick.”

“Ah…” You felt like you were going to be sick. You didn’t want to think about this anymore, but everything was starting to make sense: that night he stood you up, the red hair. Had he made you his girlfriend as a distraction? Is that what he was trying to do? You needed to go home. You had to get out of here, you didn’t care about figuring out if the girl next to you was lying or not, you just needed to get out. “I’m… yeah, I’m gonna go home.”

You don’t say anything else to her as you exit the bathroom, everything passing by in a blur as you rush out of the school. Unsure of where you’re even going, you start walking in the direction of the way you think leads to your apartment. You don’t really care though, because that’s when the tears begin to well up.

What had you done? Did you do something? Were you not good enough for him? Was your love not good enough for him? Sucking in small, shallow breaths while trying to calm yourself down, you can’t find it in yourself to care about the rest of the world as people on the sidewalk pass you, looking at you like they were scared of you. Tears slip down your face as you continue walking for an amount of time that you’re not even sure of. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, but you leave it there because you know who it is and you can’t talk to him. You can’t hear his voice because you know it’ll make everything seem fine again and it wasn’t.

There were small signs. You can’t believe you were dumb enough to ignore them.

You don’t know what time it is when you reach your apartment complex, but when you ride the elevator up to your floor and stand in front of your door, you realize that your keys are in your bag. And your bag is in Jiwoong’s office. It’s like that’s the final straw, and you're sobbing as you struggle with the doorknob. Nothing was fair. Eventually, you pick yourself up enough to go back down to the receptionist to ask for the spare key and she must feel the right amount of pity for you to give you the key without question.

Being in your apartment is a comfort you haven’t felt in a while. Partly because you can lay in your bed for the rest of the day and partly because there’s nothing that reminds you of Jiwoong here. It was always you going to his apartment. The apartment he took all of his girls to.

You don’t bother with checking your phone for the rest of the night, not caring about the way its vibrations have begun to slow down or how it rings before you put it on silent mode and leave it on your kitchen counter. Instead, you use your laptop to email the head of the program that you had left early that day because you were feeling sick, not having time to tell anyone else. You don’t care if she doesn’t believe you, you just want to lay in bed and feel sorry for yourself.

You fall asleep early that night, body exhausted from the amount of crying you’ve done and now numb to the hurt you feel. What pulls you from your dreamless sleep though, is the loud knocking on your apartment door. Sluggishly, you pull yourself out of bed when the knocking doesn’t stop after a while, looking through the peephole to find the one person you didn’t want to see. But that doesn’t stop you from cracking the door open a bit, and you suddenly get deja vu from the previous weekend.

“YN–”

“What do you want,” your voice is flat as you watch Jiwoong try to reach for the door. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you feel the first flames of anger begin to ignite. He didn’t have anything to say? He wanted to act dumb? “What do you want, Jiwoong?”

“Please, you just need to hear me out–”

“Hear what out? When did you start sleeping with her?” He doesn’t even try to deny anything, knowing he’s been caught and the thought makes you want to scream in frustration and pull at your hair. “When?” you repeat angrily.

Jiwoong sucks in a small breath as he runs his hand through his hair, “YN, you have to understand, Xiaoting doesn’t mean anything to me–”

“Clearly neither do I!”

“YN–”

“When, Jiwoong.”

He hesitates before speaking, “A week after you and I had sex for the first time.” He looks ashamed. You never thought you’d see a man like him look like a kicked puppy, but that’s what he did look like, and the sight didn’t even satisfy you in the slightest.

“I trusted you–”

“You still can–”

You push the door open, revealing the full sight of him. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Let me talk, not you.”

Instantly, he nods, complying with your wishes. Trying to control your frustration, you breathe slowly. “I trusted you, considering everything. I gave you multiple chances, and you still did this, and honestly? I don’t even care why.” That’s a lie, you do care, you care a lot. You don’t want to cry, but all of the emotions are too much, and as you speak you feel the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“I don’t want to see you again. I’m going to transfer to a different assisting job, and I don’t want you to ever try to contact me again.”

Jiwoong’s gaze hardens, and suddenly, the man who looked so sorry just a few moments ago looks scary. His eyes look dead, mouth sat in a firm line as he stares down at you, rising to his full height.

“You don’t want to do that, YN, really.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll call the police,” you warn, not backing down despite the feeling in your stomach that’s telling you to slam the door in his face. “I want my bags back. For all I care, you can give them to Xiaoting and have her bring me them.”

His chuckle has a wary shiver running down your spine. “Don’t leave me, sweet girl, it won’t end well for you.”

When you look in his eyes, you don’t find any of the Jiwoong you used to know. Nothing of the Jiwoong you’re in love with and your heart somehow breaks even more. “Good night, Dr Kim.” You close the door, ignoring how angry he sounds on the other side of it as you lock it behind you, going back to your bedroom before letting the rest of your tears out into the sheets.

Peace is hard to find, you conclude as you take the next two days off from your student teaching, staying away from all and any forms of social media as you tried to heal as much as you could in such a short amount of time. You still loved Jiwoong, there was no way feelings as strong as the love you had for him would go away in two short days. The thought of it made you angry, but ultimately, you just wanted to ignore anything to do with the man for as long as you could. So on that third day, you had opened your laptop to request a change in who you were studying under.

You weren’t sure if that was even possible, changing your assignment, and you weren’t sure of what excuse you could come up with, but you figured you’d think of something.

“What…” you say softly to yourself at the email from your program already sitting in the inbox.

As your eyes skim over the first few words, your heart falls to your stomach.

“No, no, no,” you repeat softly to yourself, desperately clicking on the box frantically, trying to convince yourself that you were just having a horrible dream.

…Due to inappropriate advances made towards staff, you have been removed from this program… Your life is ruined in one email. In six words. You don’t feel anything and all you can think of is: How did this happen? But deep down, you know, and as the first sob leaves your throat, you hear his voice in the back of your head: “You don’t want to do that, YN, really.”

The air was humid as you entered the small bookstore, the heavy feeling in the atmosphere cluing you into the warm summer’s rain that was on its way. You fix your bag over your shoulder as the smell of paper and coffee fills your nose, a sense of safety grounding you as you look around the small space. Few customers are there, considering you weren’t working the busy hours that day, just from dinner time till closing.

“Hi Ms Park,” you greet the owner behind the checkout counter softly, and the old lady smiles at you as you pass behind her to hang your things up before you begin your shift.

Life was hard after you were expelled from your education program. You had been left to try and figure out where to go from there. Thankfully, you were able to find another program that would accept you. It was through a smaller school, and you would always have that expulsion on your record, but after a hard month, you could finally see your life getting back on track. And you were working in your favorite bookstore during the meantime, trying to save up money for your future.

You adjust the nametag on your top before going back out, asking Ms Park what she wanted you to do first and she was quick to direct you towards a cart of new material, kindly telling you to shelf the books. Doing work like this was good for you, you had concluded. The monotonous actions that you repeated over and over again silenced your mind, pushing those thoughts away that would try to creep into your still-healing mind. And heart.

Hours pass as you continue working, completing little tasks that the sweet owner asks of you, and as you tidy up one of the back corners, you hear her voice. “YN?”

“Mhm?” you hum, glancing at the mess you still needed to finish picking up as you turn around.

You think your heart stops when you see him standing next to your frail-looking boss. You feel yourself freeze, the fear that even just the mention of his name causes you magnifying by the thousands. When you catch yourself, you do your best to snap out of it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you so timid.

“Jiwoong’s looking for something? Would you mind helping him find it?”

You grit your teeth a little, “Of course, Ms Park.” The old lady smiles as she looks up at Jiwoong, patting his arm softly before leaving you alone with him.

You do nothing except stare at him for a moment, not convinced that this was really happening.

“It’s good to see you.” You don’t say anything. Jiwoong smirks as he steps closer to you, head tilting to the side. “I don’t think you’re supposed to give customers the silent treatment.”

Pushing down your anger, you do your best to keep your face expressionless. “What can I help you with?”

The sight of his smile makes you resist the urge to hit him. “When do you get off?”

“What can I help you find?” you try again, shifting back a little as he moves forward again.

“You know… I’ve been going to this bookstore for a long time, and only recently did they move the poetry section.” You swallow harshly. “Care taking me there?”

Shakily, you lift your hand to point in the direction of the genre he was speaking about, “Head in that direction and they’re behind the shelf and to the right.”

“Mmm, you should come with me.” You don’t say anything, avoiding his gaze. His light touch on your chin makes you flinch softly and he coos a little. “Don’t be scared, sweet girl, I wouldn’t hurt you. But if you need another lesson, I’d be more than happy to give it to you.”

“Don’t–”

“I heard you’re entering a new program? One of my friends works at the place you’re going to.”

The combination of fear with the distant mix of love is something you thought never would’ve been possible. But even after everything he’s done, after the time you’ve spent away from him, you can’t ignore the love you’d once felt towards him.

Jiwoong smiles softly, “Come to dinner with me tonight.”

“No,” you reject softly and his grip on your chin tightens slightly.

“Come on, YN, I apologized for the whole Xiaoting mishap, didn’t I? I would hate to have a talk with your new program coordinator about… the things you’ve done. After all of the time I’ve given you to think about things too.”

You feel humiliated as your cheeks warm. Despite it just being the two of you in the back corner of the store, you feel like there are so many eyes on you. Most of all, you feel ashamed over the little flicker of excitement in your heart at the thought of seeing him like that again. Intimate. On a date. With you.

Your throat feels swollen as you nod slightly.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” Jiwoong says, and the happy tone of his voice is something that would’ve tricked you in the past. You don’t know what he’s doing. You don’t know why he’s still holding onto you like this. “I’ve missed you, my sweet girl. I knew you weren’t dumb enough to make the same mistake of leaving me again.”

Jiwoong’s hand runs over your hair, “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

But you feel dumb as you silently agree with him, falling back into his trap and sealing your fate as he grins.

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treacheryinblue · 3 months ago

Text

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter five

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 13k

masterlist

NOAH POV

“You called in a favor to go on a sushi date?”

Jolly could only stare at his best friend like he was going to break down in laughter at any second and tell him that he was just kidding. Unfortunately for Jolly, Noah could only stare back at him, completely expressionless.

“That's not the point.”

“If you want to fuck the server, then fuck the server. Don't get dragged into her mess when we have our own shit to deal with, Noah. Come on, man.”

Noah’s jaw clenched at his friend’s terms regarding you, though his face remained stoic. Years of training had made him the perfect guard with an outstanding poker face.

Jolly’s mouth then fell open in shock. The silence said it all. He was one of the only people who could read Noah’s blank expressions, even more so lately. He figured he had you to thank for that. You were quickly becoming his one and only weakness.

“You're telling me that you're going through all of this for pussy you haven't even had yet?”

Goddamn, Noah really hated him talking about you like that. You weren't just some pussy he was looking to score with. Maybe at first it had been purely lust, but things changed in a whirlwind. Now you were clouding his mind every second of every day. He couldn't stand the thought of harm coming to you, especially not after he had vowed to keep you safe. You were his responsibility now. His problem. But in the best way possible.

“Look,” Noah adjusted the black wraps on his hands and then flexed his fingers. “I swore to her I wouldn't say anything to you, so can you at least try to keep this quiet?”

Who was he kidding? He wouldn't be able to keep it from you that he had broken his promise.

His fist then slammed into the punching bag dangling before him with little warning, followed by another solid hit that would have his knuckles aching in a matter of seconds. No amount of fights or training could fully help his body adjust to the abuse he put it through. Jolly groaned slightly from where he was standing behind the bag, gripping at the sides to keep it still with each forceful punch.

“Then why are you telling me?”

Noah took a moment to ponder this question. Why was he? He knew he would eventually need resources Jolly had but he couldn't tell his best friend that that was the only reason.

“Because clearly these guys aren't fucking around and I can't be everywhere at once.”

“So…what? You want to assign men to her? Fucking hell, Noah.”

Hands up and his breathing controlled, Noah landed punch after punch into the bag, following it up with a knee into the side of it that would easily take any assailant down. His hands then fell to his hips and he took a step back, his breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Mainly me,” he shrugged. “But when I'm needed at the club or for shipments then I figured we could spare Jackson.”

“We can't spare anyone, Noah. This operation only works when we have all hands on deck. Everyone has a place and a job.”

Noah’s jaw clenched, his grip on the water bottle he now held causing the plastic to loudly crinkle. He took a swallow before setting the bottle aside and then approaching Jolly, their chests nearly touching. If Jolly thought he was going to back down to him because he was his “boss” then he was dead wrong. Their roles were nothing more than a show.

“This woman is important to me and I'm going to make sure she feels safe. Isn't that what we're all about, Joakim?”

Jolly flinched at the use of his actual name, his eyes narrowing.

“She gets a guard, a detail, an escort - whatever the fuck I decide that she needs. I promised her I would keep her safe and I'll do anything in my power to keep that promise. You don't have to understand. I don't give a shit. But as my best friend, you will respect these decisions and her.”

“Goddammit,” Jolly cursed under his breath when he was the first to break their intense eye contact. He briefly gave his back to Noah, a hand washing over his face in pure aggravation.

Turning to face him again, Jolly licked over his lips and produced a single nod. But before Noah could strut away with his victory, he pointed a finger directly at his chest. “If this ruins our operation, I will fucking bury you. Best friend or not. Understand?”

Noah smirked, nodding. “I'll even help you dig the grave.”

READER POV

Waking up in an unknown bed wasn't common for you. Casual hook ups weren't your thing, so if it wasn't your bed - or Vane’s in the past - then you were utterly lost and baffled. Except you were starting to recall the night before and just why you were in an unknown bed, surrounded by homely items that did not belong to you.

Noah. Your destroyed apartment. The worry in his eyes. His mouth on your body before it all went to shit.

You wished you could relive that last little bit just a moment longer.

Your eyes slowly opened to first see the unfamiliar lamp on the bedside table, a bottle of water and a phone charging cord occupying the space around it. The sheets were soft and warm from where you were cocooned within them, the scent attached to them a comforting sensation that could easily lull you back to sleep. His scent. You knew you needed to get up, though. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't rot in this bed all day.

Sitting up with reluctance, you began to scan the contents of the bedroom. There wasn't much to it, just like the living room you had been staring longingly at for a few months now. A dresser with a mirror, closet, two bedside tables, virtually nothing of personal value on the shelves or in the bookcase nestled into the corner. You couldn't say you were surprised. Noah was a minimalist, something you couldn't relate to.

As you pulled yourself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your feet slowly shuffled you out of the bedroom. It was quiet in the apartment, the eerie silence sending a chill down your spine and bringing goosebumps to your arms. You hugged yourself as you stepped into the living room, making a slow approach to the window you were so used to looking through from your own apartment. Being on the opposite side now was surreal.

Across the way you could see the destroyed mess that was once your home. Noah hadn't let you clean anything up before dragging you out the night before despite your protests. The large sum of money you had hidden away was truly what you were concerned about. You heavily sighed, eyes then falling to the singular plant that sat to your right. The soil was in desperate need of some moisture, so you scurried to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, then slowly began to dump it into the dry soil.

Just as you were tilting the glass further up, the front door suddenly opened, keys jingling and bags rustling. You jumped, what remained of the water sloshing onto your chest and stomach, the fabric of Noah’s shirt you wore immediately soaking all the way through.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasped, a hand clutching your chest. Your eyes were nearly bulging out of your head as you looked at Noah standing in the doorway, his brows raised and a laugh threatening to escape.

“Just me,” he then chuckled, hands held up in innocence.

You relaxed only when your brain came to terms with you not being in any danger. You actually felt your safest when Noah was around. It was odd since you had only known him for a handful of time, but no one had ever put you at ease the way he did.

That both delighted and terrified you.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Noah's eyes trailed your body, pausing when he noticed the way his damp shirt was clinging to portions of your skin. One spot in particular being on your chest, granting him the view of your hardened nipple beneath the chill-inducing wet fabric. You pulled the fabric away from your body, waving it a bit to help dry sections of it, unaware that he had been close to drooling.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged. When you looked back up at him, he abruptly shifted his gaze elsewhere, awkwardly fumbling with the items in his arms.

“You really should've let me sleep on the couch,” you added as he made his way into the kitchen.

“What kind of host would I be if I did that?”

“Okay, then you should've slept in bed with me,” you continued while following right on his heels. Noah was stocking the fridge with some sparkling waters that just so happened to be the same brand you always had on hand. “I would've kept my hands to myself.”

Noah peered up at you with his infamous smirk, brows raised. He shook his head while closing the fridge and then went to continue unloading the little bit of groceries. He was wearing a black t-shirt and athletic shorts, his face flushed, leading you to believe that he had been out at the gym before. You would've loved to have watched that show.

“I don't think I would have,” he replied honestly.

Funny how your cheeks immediately warmed with a blush. You appreciated the candor, but what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

No, please, Noah. Completely ravish me. Ruin me. Make me take it. I want to feel it for days.

Yeah, you didn't think that was the right route to take. Not when he was clearly on edge and you had people out there set on killing you.

“I had to tell Jolly about what happened.”

Your heart skipped, silence befalling you both.

“I'm sorry,” Noah continued, his hands pressed into the kitchen island he was leaning into. “I know I promised you I wouldn't but with what happened last night…I needed the extra support.”

You were trying your best to ignore the flexed muscles in his arms, as well as the reddened and split skin that was his knuckles. Nope, you weren't going to let him unknowingly distract you with his body. The same body you had dreamed about, the one you desperately wanted to feel on top of you.

Fuck! No! You were supposed to be mad at him for going back on his word!

“Extra support?” You repeated, your voice small.

“As much as I would like to be, I can't be with you at all times. So, some of the trusted guys that work for me will also be keeping an eye on you.”

You grimaced at his word choice, head slowly shaking. You could practically see the Nocturnal mask slipping down over his face.

“I'm not a toddler at a water park, Noah. I don't need people watching me.”

“It's happening whether you want it to or not.” His words were stern and direct, the muscle in his jaw fluttering beneath the strain he was placing on it.

When you said nothing after crossing your arms over your chest, he continued.

“Someone will drive you to and from both of your jobs, as well as anywhere else you need to go. You'll stay here until I can get a safe house sorted, where a guard will also be stationed.”

What the fuck was happening? Why was Noah suddenly talking like some secret service agent?

“Safe house?”

“I know it's asking a lot, but I'd also like for you to check in with me if I'm not around to see you for myself. Can you do that?”

You stared at him, the expression on your face reading as utterly dumbfounded.

“Who the hell are you?” Although you didn't really know Noah, not as much as you should to feel the way you did about him, this was the first time you truly viewed him as a stranger.

He blinked a couple of times before his face softened and he pushed away from the island to close the space between you in record time. The usual confidence remained in his movements but you could see the concern written in his eyes.

“No,” he lowered his voice to a near whisper while taking your face into his hands. “Please don't look at me like that. You've never looked at me like that.”

Was Noah worried that you were scared of him? That's all that you could think of as you gazed up into his eyes while his thumbs brushed your cheeks. You wanted to tell him that you weren't but the words wouldn't move past your tongue. His forehead leaned down against yours, strong hands still encasing your face and keeping you close.

“Why are you doing this for me?” You managed to finally speak, your voice now as soft as his had been. Your hands lifted to circle his wrists though not so you could push him away, but because you wanted to be closer. So, so much closer.

Noah took in a deep breath and remained silent for a long moment. When he did speak up again, you were no more enlightened than you had been.

“I don't know.”

X X X

Six days had gone by and you barely saw Noah. He was busy with work, muttering something about having to receive shipments and make deliveries, but he was gone more so than he used to be. You thought it was odd that Nocturnal’s head of security was on delivery duty, but you found it best not to question him about it. Noah obviously had secrets and you weren't so naive to believe that you were meant to know them.

You stared blankly at the dark blue backsplash of Red’s stove, condensation from your use of a burner and boiling water forming along it. You had opted to stay later than you usually did because it was better than going back to Noah’s quiet apartment. Sure, you had whichever guy was assigned to you that night, but it wasn't the same. They never talked to you, never really paid you any mind except for when Noah called and they had to verify you were okay.

So, you were “working” late, which consisted of you making a box of macaroni and cheese for dinner. Red had long gone to bed, or so he said, though you could occasionally hear the creak of his floorboards above. Oh well. Whatever he did in the comfort of his house was his business.

“Something smells…processed.”

You looked up from where you were mixing the powdered cheese in with butter and milk to see Nicholas standing in the kitchen walkway, trusty Zippo lighter in hand. His bright eyes were set on you, an amused smile on his lips.

“Got enough for two?” The opening and closing of the lighter trailing his words.

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes before releasing a long exhale. You didn't yet respond as you reached up into the cabinet to bring down another bowl, a silent acceptance to his desire to join you.

“I don't want to hear one complaint about it,” you exclaimed, eying him for a brief moment.

“Why would I ever do such a thing?”

You began to spoon the yellow coated noodles into both bowls, being careful to make each one equal. “Because I know you were raised on truffle goat cheese macaroni and bottles of wine that cost more than my rent.”

The sound of metal scraping against the hardwood told you that Nicholas had pulled a chair out at the massive island. Followed by another because apparently he was kind enough to prepare a seat for you as well.

“Do I sense a bit of a judgy tone?”

“Me? Judgy? That doesn't sound right at all.”

Since you had been spending more nights at Red’s house, you had managed to run into Nicholas way more than you would've preferred. It was awkward at first because he gave you the creeps, which he still kinda did, but at least he was willing to talk to you. You had no idea why he was at the house so often nowadays, but once again, it was just one more thing that wasn't your business.

Were you just cursed to be around mysterious jackasses your entire life? Probably so.

“For the record,” he spoke after you had handed him a bowl and dropped down into a bar chair a couple down from his, “I never ate anything with goat cheese. That shit is disgusting.”

“Yeah, it tastes like two goats fucking in your mouth,” you snickered.

Nicholas laughed along with you before the sounds faded away and all that could be heard was your tandem chewing and forks hitting the bowl.

“Can I ask you something?”

With a sound of acknowledgement, Nicholas nodded.

“How do you know Noah?”

There was no way the two of them knew each other just from the club because you could've felt the tension between them from another room. You knew history when you saw it.

“We were friends as kids,” Nicholas revealed. His focus remained down on his food, the fork he held stabbing into individual noodles before bringing them to his mouth.

“He was always pretty chill, even at a young age. Always the type to problem solve, y’know? But I was the opposite of that, so we didn't really mesh.”

“What do you mean?”

Were you just a problem Noah was aching to solve now?

Nicholas pushed away from the island, the chair again making a piercing sound as it slid across the floor. He went to the large fridge and retrieved a couple of waters, one for each of you.

“The word ‘insane' is used a lot to describe me, medically speaking. I don't see it but I'm also not the one with a PhD. But I caused the problems instead of fixing them.” Shrugging, he dropped back down into his seat and returned to his food. The way he was speaking so nonchalantly was shocking to you, especially when he was divulging so much information that you hadn't even been forced to pry from him.

“And Noah doesn't like that sort of thing. He needs order and control. I'm sure you've realized that by now.” Nicholas flashed a devilish grin as he looked at you, his eyebrows playfully wiggling.

Well, that surely was something you didn't want to talk about with him.

“Either way, our families clashed and we stopped being friends.”

“Clashed?” You felt bad for asking question after question but you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Every answer he gave only produced more curiosity.

Nicholas shifted in his seat, that repetitive amused grin overtaking his features. You were getting the same sense that you would from Noah, like something was being kept from you. Something important.

He didn't speak again until he was done eating, the bowl in front of him thoroughly cleaned of every noodle. You were impressed, to say the least.

“I'm going to be honest with you because I like you, okay? So listen to me very carefully.”

Turning in his chair to face you, he leaned in closer, almost too close for comfort. If there hadn't been an empty chair between the two of you, then he would basically be in your lap at this point. You gave a slight nod, that damned curiosity noticeable in your eyes.

“Do not trust anyone. Not me, not Noah, not Red. No one. Do you get me?”

You opened your mouth to speak because the confusion you felt was on the verge of bubbling over, but promptly closed it when you figured nothing would quench your hunger for answers. Fuck, you were so tired of dealing with this bullshit already. It was always something.

“I can tell that you're smart. When I say ‘no one’, I mean absolutely no one.”

“Why should I believe you now then?” You challenged, brows raised.

Nicholas smirked, slowly nodding. “See? I knew you were smart, just as I said.”

X X X

Some Top 40’s pop song drifted through Melinda’s apartment a couple of nights later. You sat on the floor of her living room with your back propped against the couch, a pink coffee table in front of you which held a couple of different wine bottles atop the surface. A wine glass was also within reach but you had pushed that aside after the first pour and started drinking straight from the bottle. Melinda had arched a brow at you but hadn’t voiced her concerns. At least not yet.

Your nerves were causing your fingers to tremble to the point that not even alcohol could calm them. Why? Because you were on the verge of telling Mel everything. The confession had been right on the tip of your tongue for the last hour but you'd always chicken out at the final second and drown out your words with the overly sweet wine you preferred.

You didn't want to drag her into this. You'd never forgive yourself if she was harmed because of you. But you needed someone to lean on that wasn't Noah. Not because you didn't appreciate his willingness to help, but because he was edging dangerously close to the line in the sand you had created. Plus, Melinda was your best friend and you desperately needed her.

“Whoa there, tiger,” Mel laughed as she made to reach for the wine bottle you were currently tipping back. “Why don't you take a breather and tell me what's wrong?”

Damn, where were you even supposed to begin? You were on the run from your own father, had been forced to change your identity, and now had a few unknown men hunting you down to kill you. Not to mention the fact that you were involved with some James Bond secret service type of guy who had a killer smile, was a great kisser, and also gave you butterflies. Oh, and how could you almost forget to add that you had killed your ex-boyfriend?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You looked up from where you had been heavily focused on the pattern of the brightly colored rug beneath you, just to see Mel staring at you with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open.

Wait…had you said all of that out loud?

Your hand immediately smacked over your mouth but the damage was done. The words had been vomited out. Melinda heard every single one.

“What?” You finally squeaked out, though your voice was muffled within your palm.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Hesitantly you shook your head, your hand slowly lowering back down to your lap. You had to clamp your hands between your thighs to stop them from noticeably shaking.

“Your dad always gave me the heebie jeebies but what the fuck? What. The. Fuck.”

“Why do you think I showed up on your doorstep with barely a day’s notice, asking you to call me by a different name?”

Melinda’s brows pulled together as she briefly fell into a deep consideration over your question. “I don't know!” She finally exclaimed, her hands thrown up in defeat. “I thought you had finally just cracked or wanted to be someone else here for fun!”

“Thank you for going along with that, by the way,” you hiccuped, now smiling at your best friend despite the deadly serious topic.

“Hold on. Hold up. You killed Vane? Like…dead? He's gone?”

You sheepishly nodded as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. How did you justify what you did without fully going into all the details?

“He wasn't a good person, Mel.”

“Did he hurt you?” She quickly cut in, her jaw clenched in preparation for an outburst they both knew she was about to have.

Heavily sighing, you gave a single nod. “Everyday.”

Sexual, emotional, and plain ole physical abuse had been your day to day life not so long ago. A waking nightmare you had no choice but to endure. It was honestly amazing that you hadn't thrown yourself off the Golden Gate Bridge instead of escaping across the country, although you had contemplated it more than once. The abuse had ended but the scars remained, most mental but some physical.

Tears began pooling in Melinda’s eyes, her lower lip wobbling. “Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have left you. I would've…I would've taken you with me. What the fuck? Why would you hide that from me? How did you even hide it?”

Well, your buzz was officially gone.

“You know how Vane was. He never would've let that happen.” Yeah, that pretty much summed it all up.

While Melinda wasn’t unfortunate enough to spend extended periods of time with Vane, she had still noticed how horrible of a person he was. He never tried to hide it, no matter who was around. Vane was proud of the fact that he could scare people. He found his power within it, just as your father did.

“Your dad…” Mel shook her head, all the information being too much for her to process so suddenly. Though her sadness had quickly flipped to anger. “I'm going to fucking kill him. I'd do the same to Vane if you hadn't already had the honor.”

“My dad doesn't know where I am.” You paused, your lips twisting in thought. “Well, he didn't. I guess he does now, though. Y’know, considering the guys that are after me.”

While you were sure those were Vane’s men, you could assume your father now controlled them since their previous leader was dead. That probably made it worse. They wanted to avenge their beloved late boss while also following the orders of one of the most corrupt men you knew - a bad combo.

“Noah has been helping you though?”

You snorted a laugh as you brought the wine bottle to your awaiting mouth again. “Yeah, just look outside.”

Sitting in a dark SUV directly in front of the apartment building was Jackson, the guy Noah had put on the rotation of keeping an eye on you. He had requested to come into Mel’s apartment with you but you threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't sit in the car and wait. You must've been somewhat convincing since he obliged. Reluctantly, but you still considered it to be a win.

“Okay, I'm seeing a guy smoking and staring at us. Should I be worried or?”

“No, it's his shift to watch me. Noah is very…thorough apparently.”

Melinda looked back at you with a wicked smirk, her tears now long gone as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. “Just how thorough are we talking?”

You groaned as you rolled your eyes and held a middle finger up to your friend. “I wouldn't know about that. We haven't done anything more than kiss.”

“Are you suddenly the Virgin fucking Mary? What's the hold up?”

You stared at Melinda with an expression that read ‘are you fucking serious?’. A few seconds passed as you waited to see if she would see the error of her question but your best friend was none the wiser.

“I've kinda been distracted with the big as fuck target on my back, Mel.”

“Shit, you're right. Sorry.” She shook her head after lightly hitting the side of it with the palm of her hand. “Okay, but you've at least felt it, right? Because I just know that man is working with something great.”

How the hell had you gotten onto this topic?

Your response to Melinda was in the form of a side eye and a shy smirk as you brought a newly opened wine bottle up for a swallow. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Let's just say he's very proportionate.”

It would've been impossible for you to not feel exactly what he was “working with” the night he had you pressed up against your apartment door. You still thought about how hard he had gotten and the way it felt when he rolled his hips between your open thighs. The sounds he had made were the perfect cherry on top. It had actually been on repeat in your head that very morning when you were showering while your fingers just so happened to be assisting in getting you off.

“Fucccckkkk,” Mel groaned as she tossed herself onto the couch behind you. “I love a tall man. And he's, like, soooo tall. Those hands? You're lucky.”

“We aren't talking about it!” It was already bad enough that Noah was still holding out on you. You were willing to bend over for him anytime, any place, but he still hadn't even kissed you since that night. Maybe there was a flirty comment here and there, but that's where it stopped. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't interested anymore. You couldn't say you blamed him considering all the baggage you came with.

Just some thoughts you were doomed to have again and again.

“When did you become such a prude?!” Melinda teased, lightly poking the back of your head.

“I'm not a prude!” You quickly defended as you shot a glare at her from over your shoulder. “I just don't want to talk about his dick!”

Well, you hadn't wanted to until you finished off another glass or two worth of wine. Once that happened you were completely free to blab about anything. You leaned over Melinda’s coffee table not even half an hour later, a fit of giggles constantly escaping you as you doodled yet another comically large drawing of a dick. Mel was doing the same on the opposite side of the table, but she had opted to place a little cowboy hat on the head of her dick picture. Scattered on the tabletop were other little drawings of cocks, each one with their own personality.

“Oh god, no!” You gasped, feigning terror and covering your eyes as your best friend held up her newest creation for you to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over. “I'm just imagining it saying ‘yeehaw, buckaroo’ when I get down on my knees for it and that's terrible!”

“I would dry up like the goddamn Sahara.”

You erupted into a fit of laughter that had you falling back and grabbing your stomach. It was like you had never seen or heard something so funny before and you had all the alcohol to thank for that.

Somehow you managed to hear your phone ringing over both yours and Melinda's cackling which sent you stumbling across the living room to grab it from where you had dropped your things hours ago. You didn't even look at who it was before you were answering in a sing-song voice.

“Hellooo?”

Noah’s voice came through immediately, his tone stern as he said your name.

“Where are you?”

“Well, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I'm at Melinda's still.” Laughter cut through your response as Mel turned the drawing vertically and pretended to make it dance amongst the sea of other crudely drawn dicks.

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe…just a little bit.”

Noah could be heard heavily sighing from the other end of the call and for some reason his annoyance had you giggling to yourself.

“I'm coming to get you,” he stated after taking a deep breath.

“What? No! I'm fine here. Plus, your little watch dog is still outside.” Steps were taken to the window so you could look down at where Jackson still sat. He was in his car now but his eyes were looking up at you. If you thought Noah was annoyed, then Jackson was on the verge of blasting off to the moon with only his aggravation fueling him.

“It's after two in the morning. I'm coming to get you.”

Noah parroted himself which only let you know that he was holding back what he truly wanted to say. It was a good thing you found it kinda hot when he got angry or else he really would've been killing your mood.

“Don't be such a fun sucker!” You laughed, both at Noah and the newly drawn dick Melinda was holding up to you again. This one looked like a mermaid, complete with a seashell bra.

“I'll be there in ten minutes.”

The call then ended and you could only roll your eyes.

“See?” You motioned to your phone as Mel arched a questioning brow. “I told you he's always so tense.”

True to his word, Noah was knocking on the apartment door ten minutes later. Jackson was no longer posted outside, more than likely relieved of his duty as soon as Noah had pulled in.

Melinda answered the door wearing a large grin and holding up her drawing of a princess cock so it was the first thing Noah would see. You could barely make out the furrow of his brow from behind your friend, but just that was enough to send you spiraling into another fit of laughter.

“Welcome!” Mel beamed with glee.

“Is that…a dick with a crown?”

You were then on your feet and approaching your best friend, your own amused smile seen from over her shoulder. Noah’s eyes shifted to you and you briefly felt bad for how tired he looked. The long hours at Nocturnal were clearly getting to him.

“It's actually a tiara,” Mel corrected.

“Do you not like it?”

“It's…great,” he sighed, figuring that agreeing would help move this along faster. “Are you ready?”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes once again rolling as you turned to grab your things. “But I guess I'll have to be.”

Okay, so maybe you turned into a bit of a brat when you drank too much. There wasn't really much more to it than that.

Noah stepped into the doorway and immediately began to assess his surroundings. His eyes squinted when he found all the dick drawings on the coffee table, as if trying to make sure he was really seeing it.

“Is this what girls do together? Draw dicks?”

“They do when they're not getting any,” Melinda murmured under her breath before sending a wink your way.

Your eyes widened slightly but you ignored her comment and instead slung your bag over your shoulder in a dramatic show. Noah’s jaw was clenched as you approached him, again wearing a wide smile all thanks to your beloved wine. He was very much unamused but you knew he wouldn't be able to stay mad at you for long.

After saying your goodbyes you were trudging along beside Noah, only slightly struggling to keep pace with his long legs and eager steps. Your humming was all that sounded between the two of you, the silence becoming a bit of a concern. Maybe he was actually mad this time. Fuck. That made you feel like a teenage girl being picked up from a party by her dad.

Gross.

“You know,” you began after hitting the ground level and Noah made sure you were secure in the passenger seat of his overpriced car. “I didn't ask you to come get me.”

“Can we not do this? It's been a long night and I just want to get home.”

You had never been good at keeping your mouth shut when you were drunk, so his plea was met by deaf ears.

“I told you that I don't need a body guard. I would've been perfectly fine staying over at Mel’s.”

Noah’s jaw further tensed and his finger tapped against the steering wheel as he pulled out of the apartment complex and drove down the road at a much higher speed than the posted limit. You didn't even want to look at him but you couldn't stop yourself because, well, he was always a sight to behold. His sleek all black clothing told you that he had only just left Nocturnal despite going in before noon, so that explained his heavy lids and the dark circles forming beneath his eyes, as well as his less than desirable attitude.

Man really needed some time off. Maybe a nice vacation where he could get some sun and relaxation. You held onto the fantasy of being right there with him on a beach, both of you with a coconut cocktail in hand. Maybe you would even get him to rub sunscreen on your bo–

“And then I wouldn't have been able to sleep because I would've been up all night worrying about your well being.”

Well, there went that perfect fantasy. Normally his words would've made you swoon, but with your drunken state you were borderline furious. Again, you hadn't asked for any of this. All you wanted was for him to keep your secret. Noah was the one all gung-ho about keeping you safe as well. So why did you feel as if you were being punished for it?

“But why? I've managed to keep myself alive before we even met, and I'm sure I can continue to.”

Noah huffed a chuckle while shaking his head. “You have no idea who you're up against.”

“Oh, I know exactly the kind of men that are after me. Did you forget that I was surrounded by them for years? Believe me, King, I fucking know.”

His head was quick to whip around to stare at you, fury flaring in his eyes. You knew you were being an idiot for pushing his buttons but you for some reason couldn't make yourself stop. Maybe you were just a glutton for punishment.

“What did you just call me?”

You heavily exhaled through your nose, your lips pursed and your eyes set forward on the mostly empty road ahead of you. “You heard me,” you shrugged. “You want to wear your Nocturnal mask outside the club? Then I'm going to call you by your Nocturnal name.”

It was rather obvious that he was fed up with your antics but he continued to press. “What are you talking about?”

Noah stepped a little too hard on the brake as the car approached a red light, sending your body jerking forward ever so slightly. You cut your eyes at him and adjusted your position in the seat before answering.

“The fucking mask you wear when you're at the club. King and Noah are not the same.”

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed, the kind of laugh that had him gripping the steering wheel tight between both hands as he leaned back to lessen the pressure on his stomach and rest his head against the seat. You didn't know why it was so funny to him but you didn't currently care enough to ask.

“We're very much one in the same, sweetheart. You don't think ‘Hot Neighbor’ would shoot a man through the head to keep you safe?” There was now a devilish - yet also mocking - smirk pulled across his lips and you weren't sure if you were scared or turned on by it. What the hell was wrong with you? You knew Noah was dangerous. He had probably killed more people than you could count on both of your hands and while you didn't like to think about that side of him, you still knew it was him. That wasn't lost on you as he seemed to believe.

And if they were one in the same, as he claimed, then why was he so taken back by you referring to him as his Nocturnal persona?

“King would and so would Noah, both without a second thought. Know why?”

With the red light still glaring through the windshield, Noah reached over to grip your chin. His fingers were gentle despite the argument you were having, but he still used enough force to turn your head to look at him. It was nothing like the brutal jerk Vane would've used and had many times. Back then you would've flinched from Noah just extending a hand towards you, but now all you wanted to do was lean in closer to him.

“Why?” You murmured, his eyes staring directly into yours with an intensity that made you press your thighs together.

“Because I'm Noah and I'm King. There wouldn't be one without the other. You know what else?” He was slowly closing the distance between your faces, his hand releasing your chin only to trace down your neck before loosely securing his long fingers around the base of your throat - something he had a habit of doing. The gesture was possessive and you knew immediately that your panties were soaked.

Noah didn't wait for you to respond before he handed you the answer. “I care about you and my main mission right now is to make sure you. Are. Safe.”

His lips were then crashing against yours in a hard kiss that had your heart pounding and your breath stalling in your lungs. This man definitely didn't half-ass anything. The sensations that coursed through your body from a mere kiss were electric and practically made you putty in his hands. It didn't last for long, though, because the traffic light was soon turning green, but Noah still gave your neck a squeeze before he was pulling away and focusing his attention back on the road.

Well, fuck.

An hour later you were freshly showered and sitting up in Noah’s bed. Neither of you had spoken since your argument in the car except for when he asked if you were hungry upon entering his apartment. You declined his offer of food, leaving him to fix whatever he was in the mood for as you opted to stand beneath scalding water instead.

Noah’s words kept replaying in your head on an endless loop that was causing a headache to form behind your eyes. Well, maybe it was all the wine you drank too, but that was beside the point. Was he truly willing to shoot someone for you? Not just to wound them, but actually shoot to kill? The thought alone made you shiver and you pulled the blankets up over your legs to help rid yourself of the chill.

Vane never would've killed someone for you, but he surely would've because of you. He looked at you as property with his name branded everywhere, whereas Noah wanted no harm to come your way because he cared. While you were aware of their similarities, they were still drastically different and you hated that your mind kept wanting to compare the two.

“Just going to grab some clothes and shower.” Noah softly spoke as he entered his room and immediately went for the dresser. He retrieved a random graphic tee from the top of the pile and then a pair of gray sweatpants, his eyes shifting to you when he slid the drawer closed.

“Okay,” you barely whispered, your fingers twisting around strands of your wet hair.

“Can we talk tomorrow?” he asked from where he stood in the doorway between his bedroom and the bathroom. He had almost closed the door separating the two but turned around at the last second to blurt out the question.

Lifting your gaze to meet with his, you gave a hesitant nod.

“I know the sooner the better but I'm exhausted and need to sleep.”

“It's okay,” you sheepishly smiled. “Talking tomorrow is fine.”

Honestly, you hated “talking” but you weren't going to deny Noah of what he wanted. You also didn't know what he wanted to talk about and that obviously piqued your curiosity. Could be your living situation or whatever this relationship was you two shared, or possibly even things about Nocturnal. No matter the topic, you had no reason to turn him down.

With a single nod, Noah shut the bathroom door and a few seconds later you heard the water to the shower cut on. Taking in a deep breath, you turned off the side lamp and shimmed down into his bed, shifting around until you were comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could get. You still felt odd with Noah sleeping on the couch and it had been so long since he was in his own bed that it didn't even smell like him anymore. The comfort you previously held onto when wrapped in his blankets was gone and you feared you missed it.

“I can hear you tossing and turning from the bathroom.” Noah was tugging on his shirt from the now open doorway, allowing you a quick glimpse of his heavily tattooed torso. You didn't try to avert your gaze elsewhere because that would've been a travesty. He deserved to be admired. If only you could do it with both your eyes and hands.

How much time had even passed since he went to shower? You could've sworn it was only a couple of minutes but it must've been much longer than that judging by how steamy the bathroom was. Noah clearly liked his showers extra hot just as you did.

“Will you sleep in here tonight?” You dropped your arms down to the bed with a defeated sigh and gave him the saddest look you possibly could.

“I really don't thin–”

“Please, Noah?” You cut him off, the desperation heavy in your voice. It wasn't because you were going to try anything - you already knew having sex the first time and being drunk was off the table - but because you needed him close. You hated that he spoke to you as if you were the most important person to him currently, but then constantly distanced himself.

It fucking hurt and had your mind reeling in all directions.

Noah didn't respond, but he did step forward and lift the blankets enough for him to slip beneath. You slid over to the right side of the bed, allowing him ample space so that you weren't crowding him. Once he was settled, you were both laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling. Silence again drifted between you.

“I fucked up,” you then admitted.

The first time you were sharing a bed with Noah and you were not only drunk, but you were also going to ruin it by spilling your guts. Hopefully only in a metaphorical sense and not actually. Thanks, wine.

“I told Mel about…what's happening.”

“Shit,” Noah breathed out. You didn't have to look at him to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a way of doing that when he was frustrated.

“I just…was tired of keeping it from her and I needed someone to talk to about it. No offense.”

“No, I get it. She's your best friend.” His fingers drummed along his chest, soft thumps that you could barely make out. “I can't be upset with you when I did the same thing.”

Yeah, you were still a little irritated about him telling Jolly, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. Maybe it would be for the best in the long run.

Needing to talk about anything else, you opted to change the subject. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“No, it's my one day off since we're closed on Sundays.”

“Maybe we can go by my apartment? There's things I need to get that I forgot.”

For example, the thousands of dollars beneath the floorboards of your closet. You didn't know how you were going to explain that to Noah but you didn't like just leaving it there. You needed to have it within reach.

Noah yawned, but you could see him nodding his head through the darkness. “Yeah, that's fine. We’ll swing by.”

You were tempted to say something else just so you could hear his voice a bit more, but the sound of his breathing evening out let you know that he was drifting off to sleep. Turning your head to look at Noah, your eyes now mostly adjusted to the dark, you were transfixed by how perplexed he appeared. How could someone still be so tense even when sleeping?

Frowning to yourself, you carefully turned onto your side so that you were facing him. Your upper body angled just enough until your cheek was ever so slightly resting on his shoulder. There were a few seconds where you thought maybe this was an odd thing to do - cuddling up to Noah as he slept - but the shift of his hand onto your bent leg immediately caused those thoughts to dissipate. Your heart skipped a beat, a fluttering starting in your stomach that you could only blame on those damned butterflies. Weren't you too old for those? Your body clearly thought otherwise when it came to him.

Finally, the calming scent that was just so Noah eased you back into what you could only consider to be tranquility. An intoxicating mix of mint and pine. Your thoughts slowed, the weight on your shoulders lifting, even if for just a night. Whether Noah was truly asleep or simply faking it, you didn't care. If it was the latter then that meant he wanted to comfort you however he could in the moment. But if he was actually asleep? Well, that only meant you eased his mind just as he did yours, so much that he was seeking you out while unconscious.

X X X

Don't trust Noah. Don't trust Noah. Don't trust Noah.

Trust no one. No one.

Nicholas’ warning was what swirled through your brain the following morning. You were silent as you stared down at a sleeping Noah, his head somehow finding your chest in the middle of the night, that being where it currently still rested. You never would've pegged him as a cuddler, but alas, he was cuddling you.

If you were to trust no one, then how were you expected to trust what Nicholas had said? It bothered you that he hadn't given you any reasons as to why you shouldn't trust Noah or Red, specifically the former, but since Nicholas had known both much longer than yourself, then maybe you should heed his warning. Or at least take him seriously enough to be on the lookout for yourself, right?

It was just so hard when Noah was like this. His body was radiating a heat into yours that you only wanted to dig deeper into, his scent still clouding your senses and easily becoming your new favorite indulgence. He was your favorite indulgence. Fuck, you were so screwed. Allowing your eyes to drift away from him, you instead focused them briefly on the ceiling. You had only been awake for maybe ten minutes and Noah hadn't moved a muscle since. This didn't surprise you considering how utterly exhausted he had appeared the night before. He was clearly due for some sleeping in.

Just as you were closing your eyes to attempt another hour or so of sleep, you felt Noah’s fingers gently massaging into where they rested at your side. Was he awake? Or simply dreaming? You remained unmoving, opting to wait to see which option it could be. Only when you felt Noah shift a bit did you realize he was awake, but barely. He took in a deep breath, his shoulders rolling into a stretch, though his fingers continued to gently squeeze and rub down to your hip.

“You're awake,” you whispered through the silence. You had expected Noah’s hand to stall but there was no hesitation in the way he touched you. How he was always so confident in everything he did, you would never know. But damn did you want to learn from him.

“Mhmm,” Noah barely hummed a response. His cheek nuzzled into your chest, the warmth of his breath wafting across your breast and immediately causing your nipples to harden beneath the shirt you wore. One of his again, which Noah seemed to like. He had stared at you for far too long the first time you emerged wearing his clothes, explaining that you had forgotten to grab pajamas in your haste to pack a bag. He had zero objections.

With your heart beginning to pound within your chest, you blushed. Noah without a doubt could hear the effect he had on you and maybe that's what urged him forward. The hand he had on your hip slipped beneath the fabric of the t-shirt to begin rubbing slow circles across your bare skin, working his way up at a tantalizing pace that had you pressing your thighs together for even the smallest amount of relief.

“H-how did you sleep?” Fuck, that was embarrassing. You were already stammering over your words just from him touching you. Obviously you were touch starved, especially from someone you actually wanted to feel, but you didn't want it to be so embarrassingly obvious.

Chills formed along your skin in the wake of his wandering fingers. He stroked along your stomach and over your waist, up to the valley between your breasts, and then over to tease the only one he could reach in this position. Your eyes fluttered closed as a fingertip circled your nipple before giving it a small pinch, just hard enough to force a whimper from your lips. Already your body was on fire with the need you had for him. An anticipation that had been building up since the very moment you laid your eyes on him only a few short months ago.

Shit, was this how you were going to have him for the first time? Your hair a mess and with unbrushed teeth? At least he wasn't trying to kiss you, though you were sure you wouldn't be strong enough to reject it if he were to try. Not to mention how stopping him so you could go brush your teeth would completely ruin the moment. So, you were going to try not to think about it. Just as you were trying very hard to get Nicholas’ voice out of your head as well.

Noah deeply inhaled as he palmed your breast, gently kneading into the mound. His short nails pricked your sensitive flesh, just enough to have you arching up against him in a desperate yet silent plea for more. As if being able to hear what you wanted, Noah released you, but not before giving your nipple another pinch and a firm tug. His hand was then traveling back down your body, curving over your hip to find the band of your panties. The shirt you wore had been long enough to cover everything, so you never even thought to further clothe yourself when Noah had crawled into bed with you. You were thankful you hadn't because you didn't currently want to deal with awkwardly shedding the layers.

A shiver raced down your spine when his fingers dipped lower, making a slow trail between your thighs, but still over your panties much to your dismay. On instinct your thighs fell open and Noah immediately cupped your pussy with enough pressure to make your clit throb and your hips roll into his touch. You swore you could feel the way he smirked, obviously pleased with the reaction.

I can't get enough of the way your body responds to me. Isn’t that what he had said only hours ago when he had you pressed against your apartment door?

“Please?” You whimpered as he began to stroke his fingers along your pussy, pressing up against where he knew your clit to be every time he made it back to the top, only to return to featherlight touches again. Your head was already spinning and you were going to go crazy if you didn't have some sort of release soon.

Noah, on the other hand, seemed like a patient man, the type who wanted to draw out your pleasure, but you could sense he was just as eager as you right then. Was that also his hard cock you felt pressed into your side?

As silent as ever, he merely pushed your panties to the side and finally touched you in the ways you had been fantasizing about. He actually groaned when he felt how wet you were for him and his hips jerked forward slightly, but it was more than enough for you to have your answer. That was definitely his cock you felt and you swore it was even harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

He began to circle your clit slowly, every slip of his fingers making you softly moan and your chest rise and fall faster. Already you could feel the pressure building within you, your hips writhing under his touch, seeking out more. You had one hand gripping his shirt in your fist at the middle of his back, the other doing the same to the sheets. You were trying your best to keep your body under control, but it was impossible when Noah was touching you. He made you feel things no one else ever had, and to think he had barely even had his hands on you.

The sudden pressure of his fingers sinking into you broke your train of thought. Your head fell back against the pillows and your hips rolled into his hand, forcing those two long fingers of his even deeper. You didn't want to control yourself anymore. No, you wanted to fall headfirst into Noah and whatever this was between you. You could trust him. Nicholas just didn't know what he was talking about.

As your thighs trembled around his hand, you opened your eyes so you could glance down to watch his tattooed fingers disappear again and again. He pumped them into your pussy at a steady pace, curling them just right to have you begging for more. “Don't stop,” you gasped, your hips twitching every time the heel of his hand ground against your swollen and needy clit.

Noah was reaching depths in your cunt that your own fingers couldn't and you felt nothing but bliss because of it. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and tightened more the closer you were to your orgasm. Even Noah’s own breath was coming in soft pants along your chest, his cock rubbing against your side. You so badly wanted to reach into his sweatpants and have him cum in your hand, but he had made it clear that this was about you.

You pouted when he pulled his fingers from you, just so he could play with your clit some more. He pinched and rubbed the nerves, just as he had done to your nipple, though now with more vigor. You gasped and moaned his name, the tight circles he made nearly sending you into a frenzy. Right when you felt your end coming, he stopped, forcing his skilled fingers back hard into your dripping pussy. It was all too much. The pressure was becoming almost painful as you chased your release.

Noah kept his fingers buried deep inside of you, no longer thrusting, but instead stroking along that golden spot in a way that had you seeing stars. Your body tensed and your thighs closed around his hand the very moment you shattered. Every nerve in your body went off at the same time, your pussy convulsing around his fingers and tightening like a vise to keep him in place. You scratched at his back, your nails sinking in deep, uncaring of the wounds he'd be left with.

You were sure you also yelled out his name in the midst of your release. Possibly a few times.

How the fuck was he so good with just his hands? He didn't even stop as your orgasm raced through you, his fingers still working you to the brink of insanity so you could ride out the pleasure. Your body trembled and your legs shook, your hips still moving against his hand so you could rub your clit along his palm in the most intense way. When your legs finally stilled and loosened from around his hand, Noah then slowed the pumping of his fingers. He eased out of your still fluttering pussy and you whimpered in response, every inch of you now overly sensitive.

Noah raised up over you, his eyes finally greeting yours. He studied your face, which you knew was flushed, your eyes heavy but bright thanks to that amazing wake up. His lips formed into a faint smirk before he looked away to instead admire his fingers that were glistening with your arousal. You again felt his cock twitch against your side but he seemed unconcerned by it.

“Good morning,” Noah said for the first time while carefully untangling himself from you and slipping off the bed, his fingers at his mouth as he cleaned you off of them with casual yet hungry swipes of his tongue.

That image would forever be burned into your mind.

“Morning…” you breathlessly murmured, watching him disappear into the bathroom. Not before noticing the rather large tent that was in his sweatpants, though it wasn't like he made any attempts to conceal it. God, he was always so confident. And from what you could see, he had every reason to be.

You weren't sure how long you stared at the halfway closed bathroom door, but when Noah finally emerged again, the tent in his sweats was gone and he looked your way with a well rested smile. Unfortunately, you couldn't return to the smile, because you had grown more and more confused the longer you had sat alone with your thoughts.

“What was that?” You were no longer shaking, finally, your body settled back into its natural state. This meant you weren't tripping over your words anymore when trying to exude even an ounce of the same confidence Noah had.

Noah arched an inquisitive brow while pulling his anime graphic tee from his body. With his sweats sitting low on his hips, you were graced with the perfect view of his bare torso. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, your gaze slipping down his body without shame. You wanted to trace every tattoo he had with your tongue and find out which one made him shiver the most. Fuck, he had ruined you just from making you cum once.

“What was what?” He went to the closet to retrieve a plain black t-shirt from the mass of other black clothing. You assumed this is where he kept his Nocturnal clothes. On the opposite side of the room from his regular day to day clothing…interesting…

“That,” you motioned back towards the bed behind your shoulder, your voice stern since he wanted to play dumb for whatever reason. “You're just going to finger me and then act like everything is normal?”

Noah’s brows knitted and he paused, the black shirt he held still clasped in his hands. “Are things not normal between us now?”

He seemed genuinely confused and, okay, maybe you felt a little bad about it but you were also confused. Weren't you? No way were you making this weird…right? That was a damn good question he had asked, though.

“No. Yes…I don't know.”

Setting his shirt aside, he took light steps until he was standing in front of where you still sat on the bed. Noah extended a hand out to gently stroke your jaw before his fingers shifted through your messy hair and then stalled at the back of your neck. Your eyes were set up on his, your heart again beginning to race due to how close his half naked body was to yours.

Noah leaned down, his lips barely brushing yours with every word he spoke. “I'm not going to act like it didn't happen, if that's what you’re worried about,” his eyes searched yours. “Believe me, I wouldn't be able to ignore the way your tight pussy squeezed around my fingers even if I wanted to.”

His nose lightly brushed yours before he captured your lips for a tender kiss. It didn't last for nearly as long as you would have wanted, but you knew it was for the best so neither of you got carried away. You already wanted to rip his clothes off and have your way with him after the way he just spoke to you. It made your thighs clench and your lower stomach do a flip.

“And the way you taste?” A groan rose to the back of his throat, both of his hands firmly holding your face again. “So fucking sweet and perfect.” His lips again fell to yours, the pressure behind the kiss easily would've made your knees give out had you not been perched on the bed. Your fingers danced along the bare skin of his chest and stomach, just as you had dreamed of doing, as your tongue moved in tandem with his own. His mouth still tasted just as amazing as it had the night before and you were immediately addicted. You needed more.

Unfortunately, Noah had other plans. He slowly pulled back, both thumbs ghosting over your cheeks before he released you completely. A small step back was taken, giving himself enough room to pull his black shirt on, as well as black jeans after losing his sweatpants.

“I have to do a couple of things and then I'll be back. You'll be okay, right?”

Of course you would be. It wasn't like you really had a choice, though.

“I thought we were going to my apartment?”

You stood from the bed and stepped up to him, your fingers trailing the length of his arm. You didn't want him to leave, but you knew he had something with work to do despite claiming it was his day off.

“I'll only be an hour or two and then we’ll go. I promise.”

Nodding, you allowed Noah to pull you in closer so he could then press his lips to the top of your head. You responded with a gentle smile because while you didn't want him to go, you weren't going to be childish and beg him to stay or ask if you could tag along. There had to be some separation. You knew this.

“Jackson will be outside, okay? He’ll be here in seconds if anything happens, especially if you don't answer his check ins.”

Yeah…you were pretty bad at that, but only because you had a terrible habit of leaving your phone lying anywhere and everywhere.

Noah called out his goodbye to you after you had flopped back against his bed with full intentions on going back to sleep. What better way to pass the time than that? Unfortunately, sleep never took you. Not completely. You had dozed off here and there, but eventually you awoke after only half an hour and decided to shower. Also, you couldn't believe you had let Noah kiss you without you first brushing your teeth. Ugh.

After your shower, you dressed in black leggings and another one of Noah’s shirts. You had clothes to wear out and about, but there was something about wearing his that made you feel safer. They were also extremely comfortable and smelled like him - two of your favorite things. Dropping back onto the couch, you let your mind melt away for a bit without whatever television shows you could find. You even attempted one of Noah’s animes he loved so much, and although you didn't understand what was going on, you still found it entertaining.

Nearly two hours had passed when you looked at the time on your phone for the fifth time. Not even a text from Noah? That was odd.

Pulling up your messages, you went to the one labeled “GUARD DOG 1” and began to type.

YOU: Nothing from Noah?

A few seconds passed before the gray circles appeared to indicate Jackson’s typing.

GUARD DOG 1: He got pulled away again. He should be leaving shortly.

Ugh. So much for getting to spend a day with just him.

GUARD DOG 1: Need anything?

YOU: No, I'm good. Want a mini pizza?

GUARD DOG 1: I've got a PopTart and some chips. I'm set.

The couch is where you remained for another hour. Then another. You were becoming angry at this point. Mostly because he couldn't even spare a second to message or call you himself, but had Jackson doing it every half hour. You kept telling yourself to not be mad because he was working. But what the fuck could be so important at a nightclub that he left you for so long after making you a promise?

When another thirty minutes drifted by, you had had enough. You pushed away from the couch and slid your shoes on, then began to rummage through your bag until you found the keys to your apartment. If Noah wasn't going to take you, then you would take yourself. The only reason why you had asked him to in the first place was because you knew he wouldn't want you to go alone. He never wanted you to go anywhere alone anymore.

Simmering in your anger, you exited the safety of his apartment and made a beeline for your own. There were two routes you could take: outside across the small courtyard that connected to the sidewalk that separated your buildings or you could go up a few floors and take the breezeway. You opted for the latter because it didn't run the risk of Jackson seeing you. You had put that guy through enough already.

You politely smiled at other tenants when they passed, a few with familiar faces and some not, though they didn't appear to be any sort of threat. You hated that this was how you thought of people now, constantly wondering if they were employed by your father and after you. Maybe you should leave the city. Wouldn't that make it easier for everyone? Something told you Noah would never allow it now, though. And if you ran away in the middle of the night, wouldn't he just be able to find you? That thought caused your stomach to flip again. Something about it made you shiver, but not with fear.

Pushing all of those thoughts aside, your steps began to slow as you approached your apartment. It didn't take you nearly as long to unlock the door as it had the night before, simply because you didn't have Noah pressed into your back and kissing your neck. Honestly, that was kind of a bummer. Taking in a deep breath, you held it in as you gently nudged the door open. The disaster remained just where you had left it, the creeping silence making it all the more terrible.

“Fuck,” you murmured to yourself during the first step inside you took. You opted to leave the door cracked, just because that connection to the outside world for some reason made you feel safer. You knew it was ridiculous, but what did you care?

“Ignore it all,” you continued to whisper to yourself. You weren't here to inspect the damage or wallow in your pity. You came for one thing and you needed to remain on task so you could get in and get out as quickly as possible. It would be a few minutes before Jackson would call to check in again, so your goal was to be back in Noah's apartment by then.

Rushing back to your bedroom, you flung your closet doors open and immediately went for an overnight bag on the top shelf. Quick. You had to be quick. You dropped to your knees, fingertips grazing the hardwood until you found the floorboard you had pried up many times before. You dug your nails beneath the wood and repeated the same motions until the wood edged up enough for you to slip your fingers beneath it. It was hollow in this area, for reasons unknown to you. Maybe another tenant had hidden things in the same spot in the past.

You lifted another board to give yourself enough room to retrieve the opaque container you had the money stashed away in. $300,000 to be exact, money you had stolen from Vane after your fight to the death with him. You always thought large amounts like this would be impossibly heavy, but the bills fit easily into your overnight bag and weighed no more than seven or eight pounds. Who would've thought?

As you were loading the money into the bag, you heard the creak of a floorboard. The sound immediately had you on alert. Your motions stalled, your eyes wide, ears listening out for any other sound. No other noise came, so maybe you were just imagining it. It was your anxiety getting the best of you. Shaking your head, you continued with the task at hand as fast as you could. Bundles of fifties and hundreds were shoved into the bag one after the other, again and again until your fingers were brushing the bottom of the container.

Finally, you had it all.

You carefully placed the container back beneath the floor and replaced the boards to their rightful location. The last one had just slid into place when you heard the same creak again, followed by what sounded like shards of glass being stepped on.

“Hello?” You called out, your heart pounding within your chest. It was from both the adrenaline and the fear you now felt. “Jackson?”

No answer. Just another piece of glass scraping against the floor in the living room.

“Noah? Is that you?”

No, he knew better than to sneak up on you like this. He would never do that. He would've yelled your name as soon as he stepped into the apartment.

With shaky hands you hauled the bag over your shoulder with all intentions of running to the front door. When you looked down the hallway, though, there was a tall, dark figure in your path. You froze, fear coursing through your veins. That wasn't Jackson or Noah, but instead a person you had wished to never see again.

This man was taller than Noah, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He was bald, which you were easily able to make out even in the distance that separated you, intricate tattoos covering his head. His name was Hawk, one of Vane’s right hand men that did all of his biddings, no matter how horrible. He had been present for many of Vane’s atrocities against you and now there he was, standing in your apartment.

“You're a very hard girl to find,” he breathed, the joy he got out of this evident in his tone.

“That's typically how it goes when trying not to be found,” you shot back while reaching for your phone in your pocket.

“I wouldn't do that,” Hawk took a step forward. “Or else your little guard downstairs is going to get a bullet through his head.”

“Don't you dare,” you spoke through gritted teeth, your eyes narrowing at this monster of a man.

Hawk laughed, a few more steps then taken towards you, which you took the same amount backwards. It wasn't like you had anywhere to go unless you wanted to jump out the window. It would surely end in your death but that was better than being at the hand of Hawk and whoever else was waiting for you.

“What do you want? The money? You can fucking have it.” You shrugged the bag off your shoulder and dropped it to the floor, allowing him the chance to snag it. Hawk didn't even look at the bag, though. His sights were set firmly on you.

“You think he gives a shit about that money? No, baby, he wants you.”

Of course your father didn't want the money. He had enough to last multiple lifetimes and then some.

You fell silent, both you and Hawk staring each other down, daring the other to make the first move. It would be easier for you to escape now that you didn't have the money on your shoulder, but fuck, it was going to hurt having to leave it behind.

Without a thought you ran for the mountain of a man, your body easily dipping below the height of his arm as you squeezed by him. Hawk reached for you, one large hand securing around your waist and pulling you down with enough momentum to send you falling to the ground. The wind was briefly knocked out of you and you remained on the floor, desperately trying to gain a breath while ignoring the pain in your back where you had landed.

“You should've made this easy for both of us,” he snarled, his large form standing over you, a foot on either side of your hips.

You coughed a few times as your lungs ached to expand, your eyes frantically searching for anything littering the floor that you could protect yourself with. You figured it would be simple since your apartment was a mess, but what were you to do with little pieces of glass and pillow stuffing?

“I have to bring you in alive, but he didn't say anything about unharmed.”

Hawk leaned down and gripped your shoulders to force your body up. You then quickly shoved your hand into his face, a palm full of broken glass pressed into his skin. You twisted and turned your hand, ignoring the pain that you were inflicting on yourself at the same time, all to embed the glass as deep as you could. Hawk yelled out, blood now dripping down his face, but it wasn't enough to make him fully lose his concentration.

No, he was still coherent enough to send a fist flying into the side of your head. Your body met the floor again, blackness dancing before your eyes on impact. You were briefly dazed, just long enough for Hawk to find his bearings and begin reaching for you once more.

“No!” You yelled, your hands hitting against his, your legs kicking beneath him. You needed to fight him off however he could, even though deep down you knew he was going to take you. That didn't mean you were going to make the task simple. “Get away from me! He's going to kill you!”

Hawk tossed his head back and laughed as soon as he had your wrists pinned down above your head. “Who's going to kill me? That pretty boy you've been spending your time with? I can't say I'm scared, baby.”

The sound of your phone ringing cut through Hawk’s laughter and you both paused. It only took a couple of seconds for you to begin squirming again, desperately trying to pull a hand free so you could answer the call you knew had Jackson on the other end. It was time for your check in.

Your knee collided with Hawk’s crotch, leaving him stunned. He huffed out a heavy breath and his body tensed, giving you just enough time to force your foot into his knee with a crack, sending him rolling to the ground. You grabbed your phone from your back pocket, the screen broken from the fall you had taken, but you didn't care. You could still see that it was Jackson.

“Jackson!” You yelled as soon as you accepted the call while trying your best to pull yourself to your feet. Hawk was right behind you, though. His hand secured around your ankle and you again met the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

“I'm coming up!” Jackson hollered. How did he know where you were, though? He would go to Noah’s apartment under the assumption that you were still there, unaware of your little field trip to your home. By the time he realized it, you knew you'd be long gone. And what about the threat Hawk had made against him? Was it a bluff or was there actually someone downstairs with his gun trained on Jackson?

Before you could warn him, the phone was ripped from your hand and thrown to the ground. Hawk ground his boot into the device, rendering it completely useless. You could feel tears welling within your eyes, though you weren’t sure if it was because of the blood you could taste in your mouth or because you were about to be kidnapped. Maybe it was a nice combo of both. At least you knew your father wouldn't kill you…or so you were hoping.

“You fight back more than you used to,” Hawk taunted with an evil smirk as he turned your body over. “He's going to love that.”

Before you could make another sound, Hawk’s heavy fist slammed into your face again, and you were left with nothing but a shock of pain and then overwhelming darkness.

CHAPTER SIX

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