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Sunshine!reader x general practitioner!rafe

(She come back after they first meet )

“Your hair grew!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah! Last time it was down to my ankles, and you had a buzz cut.”

A little thrown off by how easily she slipped into talking to him, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah… yeah. I wanted to try something new.”

“I like it.”

He cleared his throat.

“So… you came for a check-up?”

“Yes, exactly! I’m going on vacation, and my parents want to make sure everything’s okay. like .. if my ankle is good enough to actually enjoy it, you know? Anyway…”

He chuckled softly.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I get it.”

He stood up and moved closer to her, gently taking her ankle to examine it.

“So, where are you going?”

“Yes!! I’m going to—”

She kept talking, rambling as usual, while he carefully checked her ankle, occasionally nodding, half-focused on her words, half on what he was doing.

“That sounds nice… I hope you’ll have a great time there.”

A small pause.

“Hmm… everything looks good to me, miss.”

Her face lights up instantly.

“Really?!”

“Yeah, you’re good to go. Just be careful, don’t overdo it.”

She nods quickly, already half standing up, full of energy again.

As he steps back, his eyes drop for a second to her shoes , a pair of Converse, a little worn, stained with dried mud along the sides.

He raises an eyebrow slightly “You might wanna clean those before your trip.”

She follows his gaze, then looks back at him, completely serious “I clean them every day.”

A beat.

He blinks, caught off guard.

“…Every day?”

“Yes!” she smiles, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I don’t like when they’re dirty.”

Another pause.

He lets out a small breath through his nose, something between a chuckle and disbelief.

“Right…”

She doesn’t notice, already grabbing her things.

“Thank you, doctor!!”

And just like that, she’s gone , leaving behind a faint trace of energy that lingers in the room.

Rafe stands there for a second longer than necessary, glancing once more at the door

𐙚 pairing. nerd!rafe x goodgirl!reader

𐙚 summary. she never meant to fall for the quiet boy who always sat two rows ahead — but now she can’t stop finding reasons to be near him.

𐙚 warnings . fluff ( I’ve never finished writing this fic … tell me if I should)

she swears she only looked because he dropped his pen. But now she’s memorized the way he breathes when he reads. the way his lips move a little when he’s thinking. the way his fingers tap against the desk when he’s trying not to fall asleep. she knows what pages make him frown, what songs he listens to when he studies. she shouldn’t. but she does... and maybe that sounds psycho, but she’s not — she’s just falling in love. just a girl in her hopeless romantic era.

he never talks much, and maybe that’s what she likes. The silence feels softer when it’s him...

They talk maybe three times, asking questions about the classes they have, the homework they have to do for the next week. A mundane conversation between students who like to talk, after all. But for her, it meant a lot. She wasn't the type to talk and make friends, so she often stayed alone, wandering around the library. She ended up reading almost half of the library, which seemed huge at first glance, but when you stayed there for several hours, it became like…

And that's when she started to notice that Rafe was coming to the library. As the days went by, she knew when he was coming. To tell the truth, it wasn't complicated. He often came on Thursdays at 3:00 p.m. after their chemistry class to review or borrow a book that the teacher had recommended in the last class.

Due to her frequent visits, the library staff began to recognize her face and engage with her. In a way, that may have been what she wanted: a little company in her solitude, people who understood her even if they weren't the same age. They seemed more real than the people at her university, who didn't even pay attention to her except to ask her for math homework, because they'd rather talk about the upcoming party or stuff like that, things that didn't interest her. She was more the type to stay home with her cat, watching movies or reading a wide range of books, or spending hours on blogs related to her personal interests. Her parents had suggested that she go out like other people her age, but honestly, even if she did, she wouldn't feel like she belonged.

Today was no exception. After her biology class, she packed up her things and stopped by the vending machine to grab a snack, just in case she got too absorbed in her work or reading a book she hadn't finished the night before at home, even though she knew she wouldn't. When she arrived at the library, she said hello to the librarian and went straight to her usual spot. Barely 30 minutes later, someone interrupted her reading. She didn't really have any friends, so who could it be? One of the women at the front desk? Yes, but no, she never came to disturb her while she was reading. As she turned her head, she almost fell off her chair.

“Sorry to bother you, you seemed to be concentrating on your reading, but… do you know if the teacher put the reading list somewhere? I'm sure I wrote it down, but… I can't find it anywhere.”

She looked up slowly, a little surprised. Rafe. At that moment, her brain almost stopped working, everything seemed to float around except him.

“I think he posted it on the platform, in the announcements,” she said, her voice a little lower than she would have liked.

He smiles slightly, the way he does when he feels a little silly but tries to hide it.

“Ah. Makes sense. I should have checked there first.”

There is a silence, then, without really asking, he pulls up the chair opposite her. The soft sound of wood against the floor brings her back to reality.

“Can I sit down for a couple of minutes? I promise I won’t make too much noise.”

teacher!changbin x goodgirl!reader

warning . angst, fluff (good ending)

summary. reader gets into trouble after an encounter with mean girls

The library smelled of old paper and wood wax. It was a place where you liked to take refuge during breaks. You were the “good student” in the class, always polite, focused, and with a perfect report card.

But today, everything changed because of a single gesture. When you left the central aisle, your shoulders brushed against two girls from your class. They were the same ones who liked to hang out in a group and nitpick. A barely noticeable bump… and yet they made it personal.

They followed you around all afternoon, saying mean things to each other. When the bell rang, they waited in the hallway, leaning against the lockers, looking relaxed.

"We'll take care of your case," one of them said coldly.

You clutched your bag to your chest, your heart pounding. The words were jumbled. They were threats. Jabs to make you crack.

What you didn't know was that Changbin was putting his papers away in his leather bag a few feet away. He was a music teacher. He rarely walked down that hallway at that time of day, but today, fate decided otherwise.

A loud voice had caught his attention. Not a scream, but that sharp, mocking tone he recognized well—the tone of students who think they're untouchable. His heavy footsteps echoed on the tile floor.

When he saw you, trapped between the lockers and the wall, his eyes darkened.

“What's going on here?” His voice boomed loudly.

The two girls backed away, less confident. She said something about “just talking” and left.

Changbin put a hand on your shoulder. “Come on. Let's go for a walk.”

You nodded, your throat tight. On the way, he didn't say anything, but he seemed attentive, as if watching for any sign of discomfort. In the empty music room, he put down his bag and invited you to sit down.

“You can tell me if something's wrong, right?” His voice was soft and reassuring.

You hesitated before telling him everything, the words coming out in waves. He listened, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

He said, “Okay. I'll take care of the rest. But don't let this isolate you.”

You smiled slightly. “I promise.”

The next day, Changbin dealt with the situation quietly but very effectively. The mocking looks had disappeared, and the library was calm again.

I just found this in my draft , I need to post something about that !

bf!rafe x fashionista!reader

summary. reader have too many clothes and shoes

You’re crouched on the floor, fingers trailing over the silky contents of three unopened parcels. Rafe leans against the doorframe of your bedroom, arms crossed, watching you with a mix of disbelief and… something softer he won’t admit.

“That’s the third haul this month,” he says flatly. “You don’t need all this shit.”

You don’t look up. “They’re curated purchases.”

“Curated—” He scoffs, pushing off the frame and stepping over a pile of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. “You bought five pairs of red heels last week. Five. How many shades of red do you need?”

You pause, finally glance up, lips glossed in MAC’s Ruby Woo—a shade he wouldn’t recognize, but that makes his throat go dry every time. “Crimson, scarlet, cherry, brick, wine. Different occasions. Different moods.”

Rafe stares. You’re dead serious.

“You could go to the grocery store in sweatpants,” he tries again, softer this time. “You don’t always have to—”

“Yes, I do.” You smile, calm and composed. “Because elegance isn’t a performance, Rafe. It’s a habit.”

He’s quiet. Watching you unwrap a necklace with delicate hands, eyes lit like it’s a gemstone that’ll save your life.

He doesn’t get it. Not fully.

But he gets you.

So he grumbles something about rent and overdraft alerts, kisses your forehead, and drops your matching bag from the dresser into your lap. “If we’re late to dinner again because of your eyeliner, I’m leaving without you.”

You smirk, already reaching for your red pencil. “No, you won’t.”

Summary. rafe takes reader to ballet class

She emerges from the bathroom in her pastel pink leotard and pink skirt, which skims her thighs. She's put two heart-shaped clips in her hair, pulled up into a perfect little bun. Her tights are a little too thin for the cold, but she doesn't care. She just wants him to look at her.

She approaches him, hands clasped behind her back, cheeks a little pink, eyes shining with hope.

“Rafe… do I look good?”

He looks up. She's standing in front of him, all fragile and soft, like a porcelain doll from another world. And it makes him sick.

Because she's beautiful, yes. But…

He stands up slowly, drops the black jacket he was wearing over his shoulders, and approaches her.

His fingers run up her jaw, to her chin.

“You look too good,” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse. “That's the problem.”

She blinks, confused.

"But… I want to look nice. For you."

He smiles, but it's not sweet, not nice. It's a smile a little too tense, a little too tight.

"You do, bunny. You do it a little too well."

He places a kiss on her forehead and holds her close.

"Let's go. I'll take you."

As he's about to leave, rafe holds her by the wrist, making her turn around.

“Wait” showing her a small camera, "let me take a photo."

The air freezes for a moment, delicate as spun sugar, as she tilts her head slightly and gives him a hesitant smile - the one she's practiced in the mirror, the one she knows he likes. Her fingers tighten behind her back, and she nods shyly, letting him position her.

Rafe crouches slightly, camera firmly in hand. He doesn't tell her how to pose - he never has to. She stands there as if in a dream: tender roses, trembling eyelashes, quivering lips.

“Look at me,” he says softly.

She does, all innocent and hopeful, and he takes the picture.

The click of the camera echoes louder than it should.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, eyes still on her. "You're mine like that."

She doesn't quite understand what he means-not completely-but the way he reverently pockets the camera warms her chest.

Rafe brushes a lock of hair away from her temple, even though her bun is impeccable. It's just an excuse to touch her.

Then, in a low voice, “If anyone else looks at you like that today… I'll scratch their eyes out.”

This is no joke.

But he soothes her with a kiss on her cheek and puts an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the door.

"Come on, ballerina. You're going to be late."

And she follows, her cheeks hot again - not from cold, not from fear. Just the feeling of being seen. Noticed. Chosen.

summary. reader is stressed, but rafe doesn’t like it

You’re doing it again.

That "stupid little thing". The one he hates.

Rafe watches you from the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. You’re sitting on the edge of the couch, hunched forward, your fingers moving frantically — picking at the skin around your nails, digging your thumb into your palm, pressing your nails in so deep it might leave marks.

He sighs. Loud. Annoyed.

“Seriously? Again with that stupid thing?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice, but you don’t stop. Your breathing gets shaky.

He’s across the room in three steps.

“Stop,” he snaps, reaching for your hands. You try to pull back, ashamed, but he doesn’t let you. His grip isn’t rough — not really. Just firm enough to get your attention.

“Look at your hands,” he mutters, holding them up. “You’re tearing yourself apart, babe.”

Your head stays down. You can't meet his eyes. You hate that he has to see you like this — raw and small and ugly, caught in a loop your brain won't let you break.

He exhales through his nose, clearly frustrated. But when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. Lower.

“I told you,” he says. “You don’t have to do this anymore. You don’t need to hurt yourself when shit gets heavy.”

You whisper, “I can’t help it.”

That makes something flicker in his expression. Pain, maybe. Or guilt. Like it kills him to know that this is how you’ve been coping — long before him, long before you ever had someone to catch you mid-fall.

He kneels down in front of you, still holding your hands. His thumbs brush over the sore, raw spots on your fingers. He frowns.

“You’re not alone anymore, alright?” he mutters. “You’ve got me now. You panic, you stress, you overthink — fine. I can handle all that. But this?” He lifts your hand again. “This has gotta stop. You’re too good for that.”

Your eyes blur, and you hate that, too. But he sees it. Of course he does.

“Hey,” he says, voice dropping soft. “Come here.”

He pulls you into his arms, strong and steady, one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head like he’s trying to shield you from the world. Or maybe from yourself.

“I got you, okay?” he whispers. “So quit doing that stupid thing. I’m right here.”

How will be꧁ CEO!rafe ꧂

💼 CEO!rafe who built his empire from ashes and arrogance, a sharp tongue and sharper instincts. The kind of man who turns boardrooms into battlefields — and never loses.

💼 CEO!rafe who wears expensive suits like a second skin, every button closed with purpose, every cufflink a silent weapon. His cologne is dark amber and powerful, clinging to the walls long after he’s gone.

💼 CEO!rafe whose gaze alone silences a room. He doesn’t need to raise his voice — his disappointment is deadlier than most men’s rage.

💼 CEO!rafe who keeps everything bottled up — the tension in his jaw, the twitch in his temple — until something snaps. And when it does, it’s not a tantrum, it’s a full-blown rage episode. The kind where silence is scarier than screaming, and the aftermath feels like a storm just passed through the office. His anger doesn’t flare often, but when it does… no one dares breathe.

💼 CEO!rafe who’s the last to leave and the first to arrive. He doesn’t believe in luck — only in control, loyalty, and results. Everything else is a liability.

How sunshine!reader and general practitioner!rafe meet

She came in with a twisted ankle and a thank-you smile.

He noticed her before she even sat down — cheeks a little pink from the heat, sunglasses perched messily in her hair, mismatched socks under her sneakers. She greeted the receptionist as if they were old friends, even though it was her first time there.

“Hi! I think I did something dumb to my ankle. Sorry to bother you—”

He glanced at the chart. First name. Age. No medical history. Nothing to explain why the room suddenly felt warmer.

When she entered his office and when she sat across from him, smile soft, hands folded politely, rafe almost forgot what he was supposed to say first.

“It’s not that bad,” she said, lifting her foot like she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

But when he touched her ankle gently to examine the swelling, she winced — and immediately apologized.

“Sorry! That wasn’t your fault. I’m just a baby with pain sometimes.”

He looked up, brows raised. “You don’t have to apologize for hurting.” That was the first time she blinked at him like someone had said something she didn’t expect. Then, quieter, “Oh. Right.”

She chatted while he wrapped her ankle, about how she tripped while trying to carry too many groceries, about how pretty the waiting room smelled (eucalyptus and mint), and about how nice it was to find a doctor who didn’t seem like he was in a rush. He didn’t tell her he slowed down just to make her stay longer.

When she was about to leave, she turned around and said brightly

“I hope I don’t have to see you again! But if I do, at least I know I’ll be in good hands.”

And then she was gone, like sunlight through a window.

how will be꧁ general practitioner!rafe ꧂

🩺 general practitioner!rafe who always wears a calm smile, soft eyes that never judge, just listen. His presence feels like a warm blanket on a cold day, steady and comforting.

🩺 general practitioner!rafe who knows how to read the smallest signs — a nervous twitch, a hesitant breath — catching worries before they’re spoken.

🩺 general practitioner!rafe who explains patiently, never rushing, with words simple enough to soothe any storm of doubts in his patients’ minds. His voice is steady and grounding.

🩺 general practitioner!rafe who often pauses to make sure he’s understood, patient enough to repeat or explain again without frustration.

🩺 general practitioner!rafe who teases gently about “frequent visits,” but always with warmth — honored to be a safe place