✎ i only write for girl groups

✎ i only write fem!reader and member x member

✎ i write fluff and angst

✎ i mostly write for aespa but i might write for other groups im familiar with

✎ as long as youre kind and respectful ill write your request

synopsis new english teacher karina yu doesn’t expect to fall for winter - the sharp, infuriatingly confident math teacher who thrives on pushing her buttons. what starts as teasing quickly spirals into one reckless night that blurs every professional line. now karina has to decide if it was just a mistake - or the beginning of something worse.

tags/warnings coworkers to lovers slow burn alcohol use heavy drinking suggestive content toxic flirting making out

wc 9.6k

pairing kim minjeong x yu jimin

a/n decided to try a member x member! i hope you enjoy!!

karina had always hated the smell of fresh paint. it clung to her new blazer as she stood outside pinecrest high, gripping a cardboard box full of half-unpacked classroom supplies. the school loomed before her—brick and concrete sprawled under a gray sky, windows reflecting the dull morning light like vacant eyes. she shifted her weight, wondering if the principal had forgotten their meeting.

"you look lost."

the voice came from behind, smooth and amused. karina turned to find a woman leaning against the flagpole, arms crossed. she wore a cable-knit sweater despite the mild chill, her dark hair streaked with silver pulled into a careless knot. there was something unshakably composed about her—like she'd seen every possible first-day disaster and found them all faintly entertaining.

"i'm supposed to be meeting headmaster cho," karina admitted, adjusting her grip on the box. "he said nine sharp."

"cho's perpetually fifteen minutes late," the woman said, pushing off the flagpole with a shrug. "comes with the territory of running a school where half the faculty still uses overhead projectors." she reached for the box in karina's arms without asking, taking it as casually as if they'd known each other for years. the sudden lightness made karina stumble forward half a step before catching herself.

"i'm winter," the woman added, already walking toward the school's side entrance. "math department. and before you ask—yes, my parents had a sense of humor." she glanced back with a smirk that made karina's stomach flip in a way she hadn't expected. the box in winter's arms tilted precariously as she shouldered open the door, revealing a dim hallway lined with peeling motivational posters.

the staff room smelled of burnt coffee and decades-old microwaved meals, the hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. winter nudged the door open with her hip, balancing karina’s box effortlessly as she led them inside. halfway to the coffee machine, a voice cut through the chatter.

"ah, winter! perfect timing." headmaster cho stood near a bulletin board cluttered with memos, his suit jacket hanging open as he gestured with a stack of papers. "i see you’ve already intercepted our new english teacher." he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "since i’m clearly behind schedule, do you mind showing karina around? you know the place better than anyone."

winter’s smirk returned, sharper this time. "even the boiler room?" she set the box down on a nearby table with a deliberate thud.

cho waved a hand. "especially the boiler room. can’t have her getting lost when the heating inevitably fails in december." he turned to karina, his expression softening. "winter’s been here since the school practically had chalkboards. if anyone can make pinecrest feel like home, it’s her."

before karina could respond, winter was already moving toward the door, tossing a glance over her shoulder. "come on, then. unless you’d rather listen to cho’s annual ‘fire safety’ powerpoint first." the teasing lilt in her voice made karina’s cheeks warm as she hurried after her.

the hallway outside the staff room was quieter, the muffled sounds of lessons drifting through closed doors. winter walked with a loose, confident stride, hands tucked into her pockets. karina had to quicken her pace to keep up with winter’s long, unhurried strides. the woman moved like she owned the building—like every scuff on the linoleum and every crack in the plaster was something she’d personally accounted for. there was a careless grace to the way she navigated the hallway, sidestepping a loose floor tile without glancing down, her sweater sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms dusted with fine, light hair. karina caught herself staring at the way winter’s fingers flexed slightly as she gestured toward a set of double doors, the tendons shifting under her skin.

*stop it*, karina thought, dragging her gaze away. she’d never been the type to fixate on hands. but there was something about winter’s—the whitening knuckles, the ink smudge near her thumb, the way she moved with a quiet precision—that made her throat go dry. it was ridiculous. she was a professional, for god’s sake. a grown woman. not some flustered student.

winter paused at the stairwell, one foot propped on the bottom step. "you’re quiet," she observed, tilting her head. the overhead lights caught the silver threading through her hair, turning it almost luminous. "usually, new teachers ask a hundred questions by now. or start complaining about the lack of funding."

karina swallowed. "i’m taking notes," she lied. in truth, she’d been too busy cataloging the exact shade of winter’s eyes—hazel, but darker at the edges, like tea steeped too long—to think about funding.

winter hummed, unconvinced. she reached out and tapped karina’s wrist—just once, two fingers brushing skin—before turning up the stairs. "don’t bother. half the textbooks are from the nineties, and the projectors only work if you sacrifice a pen to the tech gods first."

the contact lingered, electric. karina flexed her wrist, half-expecting to find a mark.

the second-floor hallway was narrower, lined with lockers painted a faded blue. winter walked ahead, her sweater riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of lower back when she stretched to flick a broken ceiling tile back into place. karina’s pulse stuttered. she’d seen attractive women before, of course. but winter carried herself like she didn’t know—or worse, didn’t *care*—and that was infinitely more dangerous.

a door slammed down the hall, making karina jump. winter didn’t even flinch. "that’s room 214," she said, nodding toward the sound. "home of coach riggs’ legendary dodgeball games. avoid it unless you enjoy concussions and misplaced teenage aggression."

karina nodded, but her attention snagged on the way winter’s adams apple moved when she spoke, the shadow it cast along her collarbone. she wondered, absurdly, if winter always smelled like this—ink and faint bergamot, something warm beneath it. the urge to press closer hit her like a sucker punch.

winter stopped abruptly at a junction where the hallway split. "left takes you to the art wing," she said, gesturing. "right leads to the english department." she turned, catching karina mid-stare. "you’re staring."

karina’s mouth went dry. "i was—"

"noted," winter cut in, amused. she stepped closer, just enough that karina could see the faint freckles dusting her nose. "eyes up here, unless you’re taking inventory."

karina swallowed hard. that was exactly what she’d been doing—inventorying the sharp angle of winter’s jaw, the way her bottom lip caught the light when she spoke, the pulse point beneath her ear where a single strand of hair had escaped its knot.

winter’s fingers curled around the doorknob of room 207 with a familiarity that bordered on reverence. the brass was worn smooth from years of use, the numbers slightly crooked from when some bored student had tried to pry them off a decade ago. she pushed the door open with her shoulder, revealing a space that smelled faintly of chalk dust and the lemon cleaner the janitors used on fridays. "welcome to my lair," she said, stepping aside so karina could enter. "where miracles happen twice a week—or so i tell the administration."

the room was smaller than karina expected, the walls plastered with yellowing posters of mathematical formulas and a framed print of escher’s *relativity* that had clearly been there since the bush administration. winter’s desk was cluttered but organized—pencils sharpened to lethal points, a coffee mug labeled *world’s okayest teacher* half-full of what looked like yesterday’s brew. a single window overlooked the quad, its sill hosting a sad-looking succulent that had somehow survived years of neglect.

karina hovered near the doorway, watching as winter dropped her keys onto the desk with a clatter. "you practically live here, don’t you?" she asked, nodding at the wool blanket draped over the back of the chair, the stack of graded papers weighted down by a dented geometry textbook.

"more than my apartment, some months," winter admitted, nudging the blanket aside with her knee. she leaned against the desk, arms crossed, sunlight catching the silver in her hair. "grading’s easier when you don’t have to listen to your neighbor’s dubstep at midnight." she tilted her head toward the corner, where a mini-fridge hummed quietly beneath a whiteboard covered in half-erased equations. "there’s tea in there. and vodka, but that’s for parent-teacher conferences."

karina snorted, stepping further inside. her fingers brushed the edge of winter’s desk, tracing a deep groove where generations of students had carved their initials. "so this is where the magic happens?"

"if by magic you mean convincing teenagers that calculus won’t actually ruin their lives, then yes." winter’s smirk softened as she reached for the coffee mug, swirling the contents before setting it back down with a sigh. "come here if you need anything. printer paper, emergency caffeine, a place to hide from cho’s ‘team-building’ exercises—my door’s usually open." her gaze flicked up, holding karina’s for a beat too long. "literally. the lock’s been broken since 2012."

karina swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the space between them—less than three feet, the scent of chalk and winter’s bergamot shampoo mingling in the air. she forced herself to look away, focusing instead on the bulletin board behind the desk. polaroids of students were pinned haphazardly between memos, their edges curled with age. "you keep in touch with them?" she asked, nodding toward a photo of a girl in a graduation cap, her arms thrown around winter’s shoulders.

winter followed her gaze, something unreadable passing over her expression. "some. the ones who remember where they came from." she pushed off the desk, suddenly restless, and moved to the window. her fingers tapped against the frame, a quiet rhythm karina couldn’t decipher. "pinecrest’s not exactly ivy league feeder material. most of these kids are just trying to survive." she glanced back, catching karina’s eye again. "you’ll see.”

winter tapped a finger against the chipped wooden doorframe of room 207, her other hand still resting on the doorknob. "your turn," she said, nodding down the hall. "room 219. english department’s west wing—less asbestos, better windows. lucky you." the corner of her mouth twitched. "want me to take you there?"

karina hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. winter’s gaze was heavy on her, that same amused glint in her eye—like she already knew the answer before karina did. "i can manage," karina said, forcing a lightness into her voice that didn’t quite reach her lungs. "it’s just down the hall, right?"

winter’s smirk deepened. she leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, her sweater riding up just enough to expose the sharp line of her hip. "left at the junction, third door on the right. can’t miss it—there’s a dent in the door from when coach riggs tried to ‘motivate’ a kid with a football." she paused, tilting her head. "unless you’d rather i walk you. in case you get… distracted."

the way she said it—low, teasing—sent a flush crawling up karina’s neck. she cleared her throat. "i’ll be fine."

winter shrugged, pushing off the doorframe with a grace that made karina’s stomach twist. "suit yourself." she reached into her pocket and pulled out a keyring, deftly sliding a single key off the ring. "for your classroom," she said, pressing it into karina’s palm. their fingers brushed, fleeting but electric. "don’t lose it. the custodian charges a fortune for replacements."

karina curled her fingers around the key, still warm from winter’s pocket. "i’ll guard it with my life."

winter chuckled, the sound rich and low. "see that you do." she stepped back, jerking her chin toward the hallway. "go on. get settled. i’ll come find you after third period—see how you’re holding up.”

karina nodded, resisting the absurd urge to linger. she turned down the hall, hyperaware of winter’s gaze on her back, the weight of it like a hand between her shoulder blades. the hallway stretched before her, linoleum worn shiny in patches where decades of students had scuffed their way to class. she counted doors—one, two—her pulse jumping when a burst of laughter spilled from an open classroom. the third door loomed, its surface scratched and dented just as winter had promised.

the key turned with a satisfying click. karina pushed the door open, stepping into a room that smelled of dust and old paper. sunlight filtered through half-drawn blinds, striping the rows of empty desks with gold. someone had left a stack of graded essays on the teacher’s desk, the top paper bearing a red "b-" circled with aggressive flair. karina set her bag down, running her fingers along the edge of the desk—the wood smooth with age, the grain worn down by countless hands.

she exhaled, slow and deliberate. *this is yours now.* the thought should have settled her. instead, her skin prickled with the ghost of winter’s fingers against her wrist, the way her smirk had deepened when karina lied about taking notes.

a sharp rap at the door startled her.

"missed me already?" karina called before she could stop herself, half-hoping, half-dreading it would be winter.

the door creaked open to reveal a gangly teenager with a shock of pink hair. "uh. no?" the kid blinked, clutching a battered copy of *to kill a mockingbird*. "are you the new english teacher? because mrs. alvarez said we had a sub, but you don’t look like a sub."

karina straightened, smoothing her blazer. "i’m ms. yu. permanent replacement." the words felt foreign in her mouth.

the kid—*student*, she corrected—nodded slowly. "cool. so like… are we still doing the gatsby essay?" they scuffed their sneaker against the doorframe, leaving a fresh mark on the already battered wood. "because half the class didn’t finish."

karina opened her mouth, then closed it. she had no idea what the syllabus was, no lesson plans, nothing. just a key still warm from winter’s pocket and a classroom that smelled like decades of desperation.

a shadow fell across the threshold.

"ah, the gatsby essay." winter’s voice curled around the doorway like smoke, smooth and amused. she leaned against the frame, arms crossed, her sleeve riding up to reveal the delicate bones of her wrist. "the bane of every english teacher’s existence." her gaze flicked to karina, sharp with unspoken laughter. "ms. yu, meet alex. resident existentialist and the only sophomore who actually read the book."

alex groaned. "i told you that in confidence."

winter shrugged, pushing off the doorframe. she moved into the room with that same careless grace, her fingers trailing over the back of a student desk like she knew every scratch. "ms. yu’s your new teacher," she said, addressing alex but watching karina. "be nice to her. she hasn’t learned how jaded we are yet."

karina swallowed. winter stood too close now, close enough that she caught the faint scent of ink and that bergamot again, something warm beneath it. "i can handle jaded," she managed.

alex snorted. "you say that now." they shifted their weight, glancing between them. "so... about the essay?"

winter plucked the book from alex’s hands, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. "tell your classmates ms. yu’s giving them a one-week extension," she said without looking up. "but only if they can name three symbols from chapter five."

alex blinked. "seriously?"

winter snapped the book shut and handed it back. "dead serious. and alex?" she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "no spoilers."

the kid grinned, clutching the book to their chest before bolting down the hall, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. karina exhaled, her shoulders dropping an inch. "you just made my first day a lot easier," she admitted, turning to winter. "though i should probably figure out what chapter five is about."

"you’re saving my life before lunch," she said, pressing the note flat with her thumb. "do you do this for all the new teachers?"

winter leaned back against the desk, one hip cocked. "only the pretty ones." the words hung between them, casual as a tossed apple, but her eyes—dark-lashed and sharp with amusement—never left karina’s face.

a bell rang shrilly down the hall, making karina jump. winter didn’t flinch. "first period," she said, pushing off the desk.

the staff room microwave beeped its death knell just as karina managed to spill lukewarm coffee down her blouse. she cursed under her breath, blotting at the stain with a napkin that immediately disintegrated into sad, wet confetti. around her, the chatter of other teachers ebbed and flowed—someone complaining about third period's lack of participation, another debating the merits of pop quizzes. karina wedged herself into an empty corner booth, her prepackaged salad suddenly unappetizing under the fluorescent lights.

three classrooms, two panic attacks, and one disastrous attempt at pronouncing "bildungsroman" later, she'd expected to feel more settled. instead, the plastic fork trembled in her grip. she stabbed at a limp piece of lettuce, wondering if winter always ate lunch here—if she'd recognize the sound of her laugh cutting through the dull roar of faculty small talk.

the chair across from her scraped back abruptly. karina looked up to find a man in a too-tight polo shirt dropping into the seat, his tray clattering against the table. "you're the new english teacher," he announced, like he'd solved a particularly difficult equation.

karina forced a smile. "karina yu."

"dave. physics." he shoveled a forkful of mystery meat into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. "winter give you the grand tour?" his tone suggested he already knew the answer—and found it amusing.

karina's fingers tightened around her fork. "she did."

dave grinned, flecks of gravy clinging to his beard. "bet she showed you the boiler room." he leaned in conspiratorially. "that's her move. every new teacher gets the 'special tour'." he made air quotes with his fingers, the gesture dripping with insinuation.

karina's salad turned to ash in her mouth. "is that so."

"oh yeah." dave took a swig of his soda, eyes glinting. "winter's got a—"

"dave." the voice cut through the noise like a knife through warm butter. winter stood behind him, tray balanced on one palm, her other hand already reaching for his collar. "your third period's looking for you. something about a bunsen burner incident?" she yanked him upright with terrifying ease. "better run.”

dave scrambled away, nearly upending his tray. winter slid into his vacated seat without missing a beat, setting down a tray that held exactly three things: black coffee, an apple, and a single chocolate chip cookie wrapped in wax paper. she pushed the cookie toward karina. "eat. you look like you're about to pass out."

karina stared at the offering. "did you just—"

"save you from dave's enlightening commentary on my dating history?" winter took a deliberate bite of the apple, her teeth sinking into the flesh with a sharp crunch. "yes. and before you ask—no, i don't give 'special tours' to every new teacher." her smirk returned, sharper now. "just the interesting ones."

karina unwrapped the cookie, fighting a sudden warmth in her chest. the chocolate was slightly melted, leaving smudges on the paper. "dave seems... passionate about your boiler room."

winter snorted, nearly choking on her coffee. "dave hasn't been within ten feet of the boiler room since he tried to 'fix' the thermostat in '18 and nearly flooded the science wing." she leaned in, lowering her voice. "between us? the man's terrified of pipes."

the staff room hummed around them, the clatter of cutlery and murmured conversations forming a dull backdrop. karina found herself cataloging the way winter held her mug—thumb hooked through the handle, other fingers splayed against the ceramic for warmth. there was an intimacy to it, like she'd done this a thousand times in this exact spot.

karina traced the rim of her coffee cup, watching the steam curl upward in lazy spirals. the cookie winter had given her was half-eaten, chocolate smudging her fingertips. she wiped them absently on the napkin, then hesitated. "so," she said, voice lower than she intended. "is dave right? do you give all the new teachers the 'special tour'?"

winter's mug paused halfway to her lips. a droplet of coffee clung to the edge before she licked it away, deliberate. "would it bother you if i did?"

the question hung between them, weightier than it should have been. karina's pulse kicked up a notch. "just curious." she shrugged, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "he made it sound like you've got a... reputation."

winter set her cup down with a soft clink. "dave also thinks the moon landing was faked," she said dryly. her fingers drummed against the tabletop, a restless rhythm. "but no. not all of them."

karina's breath caught. "just some?"

winter's gaze flicked up, sharp and assessing. "just the ones who look at me like they're trying to solve a quadratic equation." her lips curled at the corners. "you've got that look."

karina's cheeks burned. she fumbled for her coffee, nearly knocking it over. winter's hand shot out, steadying the cup with infuriating ease. their fingers brushed—just a graze—but it sent a jolt up karina's arm.

"i don't—" karina swallowed. "that's not—"

"relax." winter leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head. the movement pulled her sweater taut across her chest, revealing the faint outline of a collarbone. "i'm teasing. mostly." she tilted her head. "but you were asking about my dating history."

karina exhaled through her nose. "dave made it sound like you've got a trail of heartbroken teachers in your wake.”

winter snorted. "dave's been divorced three times. his idea of romance is leaving the toilet seat down." she plucked the cookie from karina's tray, taking a deliberate bite. "but if you're asking if i've dated coworkers..." she let the sentence hang, watching karina's reaction with undisguised amusement.

karina's throat went dry. the staff room chatter faded to white noise. "and?"

"and," winter said, brushing crumbs from her fingers, "i don't make a habit of it." she leaned forward, elbows on the table, her sleeve riding up to reveal a thin silver watch. "except once. chemistry teacher, two years ago. lasted three months before she transferred to a private school in connecticut." a shrug. "turns out, i'm terrible at sharing lab equipment."

karina choked on her coffee. winter's smirk deepened.

"relax," she murmured, tapping her watch face. "third period starts in six minutes. plenty of time for you to ask whatever's making your eyebrows do that." she gestured vaguely at karina's forehead.

karina's fingers tightened around her cup. "what happened with the chemistry teacher?"

winter exhaled through her nose, an almost-laugh. "claire? she wanted monogamy. i wanted... not that." she spun her mug idly, watching the dregs swirl. "turns out, some people take it personally when you'd rather grade papers than attend their sister's bridal shower."

a group of teachers burst into laughter near the vending machines. winter's gaze flicked toward the noise, then back to karina. "disappointed?"

karina traced a chip in the formica tabletop. "just surprised you're telling me."

winter leaned in. the scent of bergamot sharpened. "you're easy to talk to," she said, voice dropping. "also, you've had that pen behind your ear since first period, and it's driving me insane." she plucked it free with two fingers, tucking it into karina's breast pocket with exaggerated precision. her knuckles brushed fabric—not skin—but karina's breath caught anyway.

the bell’s shrill ring sliced through the staff room chatter, and winter pushed back from the table with a fluid motion, apple core discarded. "duty calls," she murmured, though the smirk tugging at her lips suggested she found karina’s flustered expression far more entertaining than any impending lesson. "try not to let them smell your fear."

karina watched winter stride away, the sway of her hips accentuated by the way her sweater clung just a fraction too tight across her shoulders. she exhaled sharply, gathering her things with unsteady hands. the cookie wrapper crackled in her grip, a stark reminder of winter’s lingering presence—chocolate-smeared and deliberately unsettling.

her third-period class was a blur of teenage indifference and poorly concealed eye rolls. karina fumbled through a lesson on gatsby’s motifs, acutely aware of the clock’s ticking and the way her voice trembled when she mispronounced "ostentatious." the students exchanged glances, a silent verdict passing between them. she was drowning, and they knew it.

then the door creaked open halfway through her rambling analysis of the green light.

winter slipped inside with the casual ease of someone who belonged everywhere. her boots were silent against the scuffed linoleum as she claimed an empty desk at the back, long legs stretching into the aisle. a sophomore gasped audibly. winter ignored them, crossing her arms and leaning back like she’d paid for front-row seats to a particularly intriguing play.

karina’s sentence died mid-syllable. the chalk snapped between her fingers.

winter arched an eyebrow. dust motes swirled in the sunlight behind her, framing her like some unholy academic saint. "don’t let me interrupt," she murmured, though the quirk of her lips suggested interruption was precisely her goal.

winter didn’t speak—didn’t so much as shift in her seat—but her presence was a live wire stretched taut across the room. karina could feel her gaze like a physical touch, tracing the line of her throat when she swallowed, lingering on the way her blazer tightened across her shoulders as she wrote on the board. the chalk dust clung to her fingers, pale against her skin, and winter’s eyes followed every tremor as karina erased a misspelled "buchanan" with more force than necessary.

she was *watching*. not like a teacher observing a colleague, but like someone savoring the way karina’s pulse jumped when a student challenged her interpretation of daisy’s motives. winter’s fingers tapped against the desk—slow, deliberate—each tap syncing with the rhythm of karina’s stumbling explanation. the sunlight caught the silver of her rings, throwing fractured glints across the floor, and karina’s breath hitched when winter uncrossed her legs just enough to let her boot nudge the chair in front of her. the movement was careless, effortless, and it made the heat coil low in karina’s stomach.

god, she was *good* at this. at sitting there, all sharp edges and lazy confidence, while karina unraveled. at tilting her head just so when karina misquoted fitzgerald, her smirk a silent *gotcha* that sent a flush crawling up karina’s neck. winter’s sweater had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the delicate dip of her collarbone, and karina’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth mid-sentence. the students blinked at her, waiting. winter didn’t. she *knew*. knew exactly what she was doing—how the way she chewed her lower lip during karina’s rambling analysis of the valley of ashes made karina’s knees weak.

a sophomore in the front row coughed. karina jerked her gaze away, fumbling for her notes. "right. so—symbolism. the eyes of t.j. eckleburg represent…" her voice faltered. winter had leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin propped in her hands. the position stretched her sweater tighter across her back, outlining the lean muscle beneath. karina’s throat went dry. "*um.* the eyes represent… moral decay. or. surveillance capitalism. depending on your reading."

winter’s quiet snort was barely audible, but karina heard it—felt it like a spark against her skin. she risked another glance. winter’s eyes were dark with amusement, her lower lip caught between her teeth like she was holding back laughter. or something else. something hotter. something that made karina’s fingers twitch around the chalk. winter held her gaze, unblinking, and karina’s pulse pounded in her ears.

the bell shattered the moment. students surged to their feet, chairs screeching, backpets unzipping. karina exhaled, shaky. winter didn’t move. not until the room emptied, until it was just the two of them and the dust motes swirling in the silence. then she rose, slow as honey, and prowled toward the desk. her fingers trailed over a discarded copy of *gatsby*, lingering on the dog-eared page. "surveillance capitalism," she mused, voice low. "that’s a new one."

karina’s laugh came out breathless. "i panicked."

winter hummed, stepping closer. close enough that karina caught the scent of her shampoo—bergamot and something warmer, like sunbaked skin. "you’re cute when you panic." her thumb brushed a smudge of chalk from karina’s wrist, feather-light. "also when you lie about taking notes. and when you try to pronounce ‘bildungsroman.’" she leaned in, her breath ghosting over karina’s ear. "actually, you’re just cute."

karina’s pulse stuttered. winter’s lips were right there—close enough to count the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. close enough to kiss.

the door creaked open.

winter stepped back, casual as anything, just as coach riggs lumbered in, whistling off-key. "yu! cho wants you in his office—some paperwork thing." he blinked at winter. "oh. didn’t see you there."

winter smiled, all innocence. "just admiring ms. yu’s... lesson plans." her fingers lingered on the desk, inches from karina’s. "very *stimulating*."

karina’s face burned.

riggs squinted between them. "uh huh." he jerked his thumb toward the door. "anyway. cho’s waiting."

the headmaster's office smelled like lemon polish and over-steeped tea. karina hovered in the doorway, her fingers tracing the edge of a framed diploma from yale—headmaster cho’s, presumably—before he waved her in without looking up from his paperwork. "ah, ms. yu. close the door, please." his voice was crisp, the kind of tone that suggested he’d once been a very good debate coach.

karina obeyed, the latch clicking shut with finality. cho finally glanced up, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "sit. this won’t take long." he pushed a manila folder across the desk. "your contract, insurance forms, the usual bureaucratic nightmares." his mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him. "and this," he added, producing a glossy black envelope with a flourish, "is your invitation to the faculty welcome party. saturday night. the velvet lounge."

karina blinked. the envelope was heavier than expected, the gold embossed font shimmering under the fluorescent lights. "a club?"

chocho chuckled, a dry sound. "tradition. every year, we rent out the back room. lets the staff... unwind before the semester properly begins." his gaze sharpened.

"you should come," he added, as if sensing her hesitation. "winter will be there." the way he said it—casual, but with the barest flicker of his gaze toward her reaction—made karina's fingers tighten around the envelope.

the velvet lounge. the name conjured images of dim lighting and sticky floors, of teachers shedding their cardigans and letting loose in ways that would horrify their monday-morning selves. karina traced the gold lettering with her thumb. "is this mandatory?"

cho leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking. "only if you enjoy being spared dave's powerpoint on quantum mechanics." he plucked a pen from its holder, twirling it between his fingers. "winter usually organizes the icebreaker. last year, it involved karaoke and a stolen traffic cone."

karina's lips twitched despite herself. "that sounds..."

"like a hr nightmare?" cho supplied dryly. "hence the off-site location." he slid the pen across the desk. "sign the forms, ms. yu. and consider the party an... extension of your orientation." his smile was all teeth. "winter's already rsvp'd."

the pen was heavier than it looked. karina scrawled her name on the dotted lines, acutely aware of cho's gaze. when she finished, he plucked the paperwork back with a satisfied hum. "excellent.”

____

karina's closet yawned open like a gaping mouth of indecision. the hangers clattered softly as she shoved aside another blazer—too stiff, too *teacher*—before pausing on a silk camisole. she held it up to the light, the fabric sliding between her fingers like liquid. too much? the mirror offered no answers, just her own flushed reflection biting her lip.

the velvet lounge. the name pulsed in her skull like a bassline. she tossed the camisole onto the growing pile of discarded maybes and yanked open her dresser drawer. a black lace bralette winked up at her from beneath a tangle of socks.

the bralette was ridiculous. karina knew this as she held it up to the dim bedroom light—black lace barely thicker than a spiderweb, straps delicate enough to snap if she breathed wrong. she hadn’t worn it in years, had bought it on a whim during a post-breakup haze and promptly buried it under sensible cotton. yet here she was, fingers tracing the scalloped edges, imagining winter’s gaze catching on the sliver of lace peeking above a plunging neckline.

karina exhaled sharply and tossed it onto the bed. *pathetic.* since when did she dress for anyone’s approval? she grabbed a sensible navy blouse instead, the kind with buttons that stayed fastened and fabric that didn’t cling. then paused. winter’s smirk flickered behind her eyelids—the way she’d looked at karina in class, like she could see every frayed thread of her composure.

the blouse hit the floor with a quiet *whump*.

by midnight, her room looked like a boutique had exploded. dresses pooled over the chair, skirts tangled on the bedpost. the bralette—now paired with a sheer blouse she’d forgotten she owned—lay atop the chaos like a dare. karina twisted to check the mirror, the blouse gaping just enough to reveal a crescent of lace. too much? not enough? she scowled at her reflection. since when had she cared?

the silk slipped through karina’s fingers like a whispered secret—deep emerald, the kind of green that caught light and held it. she hadn’t worn it since her cousin’s wedding two summers ago, when the humidity had made the fabric cling in ways that drew glances. now, draped over her forearm in the brittle fluorescent glow of her bedroom, it looked different. intentional. like armor, if armor were designed to make winter’s fingers itch to touch it.

she stepped into the dress, the cool slide of fabric against her thighs sending a shiver up her spine. the mirror showed her what winter would see—emerald silk clinging to every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to hint at shadowed cleavage without crossing into outright scandal. karina turned, watching the way the dress caught the light when she moved, revealing flashes of thigh through the high slit. she hadn’t planned on the slit. hadn’t planned on any of this, really, until she remembered winter’s fingers drumming against her desk, that slow, knowing smirk.

the lyft ride to the velvet lounge was a blur of neon and nervous anticipation. karina tugged at the hem of her dress—still unsure, still second-guessing—until the car slowed outside a nondescript brick building pulsing with bass. the bouncer barely glanced at her id before waving her through, and suddenly she was inside, swallowed by darkness and the press of bodies.

and then—there she was.

winter stood near the bar, the dim glow of overhead lights catching the curve of her spine where her dress dipped low in the back—far lower than anything karina had ever seen her wear at school. the fabric clung to her shoulders, held up by nothing but sheer will and perhaps a prayer, leaving her back bare save for the intricate swirl of ink etched between her shoulder blades. a tattoo, black as spilled ink, curled in delicate loops like a vine caught mid-sway, its thorns sharp enough to prick if you traced them with your fingertips. karina hadn’t known. hadn’t imagined winter would have something so permanent marking her skin, something so deliberate beneath all that dry humor and calculated detachment.

the crowd shifted, and winter turned slightly, revealing the full design—a mathematic curve, elegant and precise, intersecting with the vine in a way that shouldn’t have worked but did. the fibonacci spiral, karina realized, its golden ratio perfectly aligned with the organic chaos of the thorns. it was winter in a single image: order and wildness tangled together, impossible to separate.

someone jostled karina from behind, sending her stumbling forward a step. winter’s head turned at the movement, her eyes locking onto karina with the same effortless intensity she’d wielded in the classroom. her lips curved, slow and knowing, as she took in karina’s dress, the way the emerald silk clung to her hips, the slit that revealed just enough thigh to be dangerous. “you came,” winter said, as if there’d ever been a doubt.

karina’s throat went dry. up close, the tattoo was even more striking—the ink slightly raised in places, the thorns so finely detailed they looked like they might draw blood. she curled her fingers into her palms to keep from reaching out. “you didn’t tell me you had a tattoo.”

winter arched an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking as she turned her back fully to karina—an unspoken invitation to look closer. the tattoo shimmered under the club’s pulsing lights, the fibonacci spiral’s precise arcs intersecting the thorned vine in a way that madeomg karina’s breath catch. "didn’t think you’d care," winter murmured over the thrum of bass, her voice a low hum that vibrated through karina’s ribs. she reached behind herself, fingers skimming the inked skin just below the tattoo’s center. "got it after my dissertation defense. a reminder that chaos and order aren’t mutually exclusive." her smirk deepened. "also, it pisses off my mother."

karina’s fingers twitched at her sides. the urge to trace the design—to feel the raised ink beneath her fingertips—was nearly overwhelming. "it’s beautiful," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

winter’s fingers wrapped around karina’s wrist before she could second-guess the touch—warm, firm, the pressure just shy of possessive. "come on," she said, already pulling karina toward the bar, her thumb brushing the flutter of pulse beneath the skin. "you look like you could use liquid courage." the crowd parted for her, as if sensing the inevitability of winter’s path, and karina stumbled into the space left in her wake, her heels catching on sticky floorboards.

the bartender recognized winter immediately—a tilt of his chin, the barest flicker of a smirk—as he wiped down a glass with practiced nonchalance. "usual?" he asked, though his gaze flicked to karina, lingering on the way her dress dipped at her collarbone.

winter leaned onto the bar, her dress pulling tighter across her back, the tattoo flexing with the movement. "not tonight." she jerked her chin toward karina. "she’s choosing."

karina blinked. "i—what?"

the bartender slid a laminated menu across the bar, sticky with condensation. winter didn’t look at it. her fingers drummed against the polished wood—slow, rhythmic—as she watched karina scan the options with mounting panic. "pick something that tastes like poor decisions," winter murmured, her breath warm against karina’s ear. "or don’t. i’ll drink it either way."

karina’s finger landed on something called a "velvet hammer" before she could overthink it. the bartender snorted. winter grinned, sharp as a blade. "interesting choice." she plucked the menu from karina’s hands and tossed it back onto the bar. "two," she told the bartender, already turning to survey the room, her hip brushing karina’s in the press of bodies. "and make them strong."

the bartender vanished into the haze of blue light and clinking glass. karina gripped the edge of the bar, her knuckles whitening. winter’s presence beside her was a live wire—the heat of her arm against karina’s, the way her thigh pressed close when someone jostled them from behind. winter’s fingers brushed the small of karina’s back as she leaned in, her breath hot against the shell of karina’s ear. “you should wear this dress every day,” she murmured, her voice rough beneath the thrum of bass. “or maybe just never take it off.” her thumb traced the dip of karina’s spine through the thin silk, the touch feather-light but searing. “it’s criminal, really. hiding this under cardigans all year.”

karina’s pulse stuttered. the velvet hammer sat untouched between them, condensation dripping onto the bar in slow, deliberate drops. she could feel the weight of winter’s gaze like a physical thing—lingering on the slit in her dress, the way the fabric clung to her hips, the barest hint of black lace peeking above the neckline. “it’s just a dress,” she managed, though her voice cracked on the last syllable.

the velvet hammer arrived in a deceptively delicate coupe glass, its contents shimmering a dangerous shade of garnet under the club's pulsing lights. karina lifted it hesitantly, the sugar-rimmed edge catching on her lower lip as she took her first sip—sharp, sweet, then overwhelmingly hot as the liquor burned down her throat. she coughed, blinking rapidly as winter watched, amused, from over the rim of her own glass. "jesus," karina wheezed, "what's in this, rocket fuel?"

winter's fingers curled around her wrist, guiding the glass back to karina's mouth before she could protest. "mostly," she admitted, her thumb stroking the flutter of karina's pulse. "but you'll thank me after the third one." she tipped her head back and drained half her drink in one smooth swallow, the line of her throat working as she swallowed. a drop of liquor clung to her lower lip, and karina's gaze snagged there, helpless, until winter's tongue darted out to catch it. "see?" winter murmured, her voice gone smoky. "easy."

it wasn't. by the second velvet hammer, the room had taken on a soft, syrupy quality—edges blurred, colors bleeding into one another like wet ink. karina's limbs felt pleasantly heavy, her thoughts slow and syrupy as honey. winter, meanwhile, remained sharp as ever, her gaze tracking karina's every twitch with predatory precision. "you're a lightweight," she observed, plucking the empty glass from karina's slack fingers and replacing it with a fresh one. her fingertips lingered, tracing the damp condensation left behind on karina's skin. "it's adorable."

karina scowled, or tried to; her facial muscles refused to cooperate, settling instead into a loopy grin. "m'not adorable," she slurred, leaning heavily into winter's side. the warmth of her was intoxicating—the press of bare skin where karina's shoulder met winter's arm, the scent of bergamot and something darker, spicier, clinging to her collarbone. "m'sophisticated. educated. very—" she hiccuped. "—very serious academic."

the third velvet hammer hit karina like a velvet-covered sledgehammer. she giggled into her glass, the sugar rim crumbling against her lips as she took another reckless sip. the liquor burned less this time—or maybe she’d just stopped caring. winter’s thigh pressed against hers at the bar, warm and solid, and karina found herself leaning into the contact like a sunflower tilting toward light.

"you’re staring," winter murmured, her fingers toying with the stem of her glass.

karina blinked. "am not."

winter’s smirk deepened. "you are. at my mouth." she tilted her head, letting the club’s neon lights catch the sheen of liquor on her lower lip. "specifically, this part."

the fourth velvet hammer tipped dangerously in karina’s grip, its contents sloshing over the rim and onto her fingers in a sticky cascade. she stared at the spill, mesmerized by the way the liquid caught the pulsing violet lights—like liquid amethyst dripping down her knuckles. winter’s laugh, low and throaty, vibrated through her ribs as a napkin appeared magically beneath karina’s wrist, blotting the mess with brisk efficiency. “you’re gonna regret this tomorrow,” winter murmured, but there was no admonishment in it, only dark amusement as she pried the glass from karina’s slack fingers.

karina opened her mouth to protest—she was *fine*, obviously, just pleasantly floaty—but the room chose that moment to tilt sideways. she clutched the bar for balance, her fingers sliding against the polished wood. “m’good,” she insisted, though the syllables tangled on her tongue. winter’s palm settled between her shoulder blades, warm and grounding, fingers splaying wide over the emerald silk.

“uh-huh.” winter’s breath ghosted over her temple, close enough that karina could count the faint freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. “let’s get you vertical, academic.” her hand slid lower, gripping karina’s waist with sudden, startling firmness as she guided her off the stool. the room lurched again, but winter’s grip was unshakable—anchoring her against the tide of bodies and bass. “bathroom,” winter announced, already steering them through the crowd with the precision of a mathematician threading a needle. “before you faceplant into dave’s powerpoint slides.”

karina’s laugh came out as a hiccup. “he brought slides?”

winter shouldered open the bathroom door with a sharp crack, the sudden silence of the tiled room ringing in karina’s ears. the overhead light buzzed faintly, flickering over winter’s smirk as she backed karina against the sink, her palms braced on either side of the porcelain. “he always brings slides,” she murmured, leaning in close enough that karina could taste the liquor on her breath—sweet and smoky, like burnt sugar. “last year, it was forty-five minutes on black hole thermodynamics. riggs cried.”

karina’s head spun. or maybe that was winter’s fingers carding through her hair, tilting her face up with deliberate gentleness. the sink’s edge dug into her lower back, cold through the thin silk of her dress, but winter’s body pressed against her front was a furnace. “you’re—” karina swallowed, her throat clicking. “you’re not supposed to be this close to me.”

winter’s thumb traced the hinge of karina’s jaw, the pressure just shy of painful. “says who?” her breath was hot against karina’s lips—close enough to share, close enough to steal. the bathroom’s flickering light caught the gold flecks in her irises, turning them molten.

karina’s pulse roared in her ears. “says—says hr.” the words dissolved into a gasp as winter’s teeth grazed her earlobe.

“mm.” winter’s chuckle vibrated through karina’s ribcage. “good thing we’re off-campus.” her palm slid down karina’s side, coming to rest on the swell of her hip, fingers dipping beneath the slit in her dress to brush bare thigh. “and drunk.”

“not that drunk,” karina lied, her knees buckling as winter nipped at her collarbone.

the bathroom stall door slammed shut behind them with a hollow metallic clang, the sound swallowed by the bass pulsing through the club’s walls. winter’s hands were already in karina’s hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as she backed her against the cool partition. the flickering fluorescent light caught the predatory gleam in winter’s eyes—dark and hungry, her pupils blown wide—before she crushed their mouths together in a kiss that tasted like burnt sugar and velvet hammers.

karina gasped into it, her back arching off the stall wall as winter’s tongue slid against hers with deliberate, filthy precision. there was nothing teasing about this—no calculated smirk, no playful retreat. just winter’s thigh pressing between hers, the rough drag of lace against sensitive skin, and the sharp bite of winter’s teeth on her lower lip. karina’s fingers scrabbled at winter’s waist, clutching fistfuls of her dress like an anchor as the room spun around them.

winter broke the kiss just long enough to smirk—that damn smirk—before ducking her head to drag her lips down karina’s throat. “knew you’d be loud,” she murmured against her pulse, the words vibrating against karina’s skin. her hands slid lower, gripping karina’s thighs to hoist her up onto the bathroom wall with effortless strength. the smooth tiles were cold against karina’s bare legs, but winter’s body was molten where it pressed against her, the heat of her almost unbearable through the thin silk of karina’s dress.

karina's knees nearly gave out when winter finally pulled back, her lips swollen and her breath ragged. the bathroom stall felt impossibly small, the air thick with the scent of winter's perfume—bergamot and something darker, spicier—mixed with the sharp tang of spilled liquor. winter's fingers lingered at the nape of karina's neck, thumb brushing the frantic pulse there as she smirked. "still worried about hr?"

karina’s fingers trembled where they clutched winter’s shoulders, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. the tile wall was cool against her bare thighs, but everywhere else—everywhere winter touched—burned. her thoughts skittered like marbles on glass, unable to settle on a single coherent thing except the press of winter’s hips against hers, the way her teeth had scraped over karina’s collarbone like she wanted to devour her.

winter’s smirk softened into something dangerously close to tenderness as she traced the line of karina’s jaw with her thumb. "you’re staring again," she murmured, her voice rough at the edges.

karina blinked. "you—" the words dissolved into a gasp as winter’s fingers tightened on her thigh. "you kissed me."

winter arched an eyebrow. "astute observation." she leaned in, her breath hot against karina’s ear. "want me to do it again?"

karina’s pulse stuttered. the fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting erratic shadows across winter’s face—sharpening the curve of her smirk, the dark hunger in her eyes. the air smelled like winter’s perfume and the ghost of spilled liquor, thick enough to choke on. "yes," karina breathed, the word barely audible over the bass vibrating through the walls.

winter’s laugh was a low, pleased hum as she closed the distance between them again. this kiss was slower, deeper—a deliberate unraveling. karina’s fingers tangled in winter’s hair, pulling her closer, desperate for the heat of her. the tile was cold against her back, but winter’s hands were everywhere, burning through the thin silk of her dress.

when they broke apart, karina’s lips tingled. her entire body felt like a live wire, sparking at every point of contact. winter’s thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, catching a drop of moisture. "still with me?" she asked, her voice a dark tease.

karina swallowed. her thoughts were syrupy and slow, tangled somewhere between the velvet hammers and the way winter’s hips pressed against hers. "i—" she faltered, her gaze dropping to winter’s mouth. "i think so."

the bathroom door swung open with a groan, flooding the stall with the club’s pulsing bassline and the murmur of overlapping conversations. winter’s fingers lingered at the small of karina’s back, guiding her forward with a pressure that was equal parts possessive and protective. karina stumbled slightly—whether from the alcohol or the lingering haze of winter’s mouth on hers, she couldn’t tell—but winter’s grip tightened, steadying her with a low chuckle that vibrated through karina’s ribs.

the club air was thick with sweat and spilled cocktails, the neon lights casting shifting patterns across winter’s bare shoulders as they wove through the crowd. karina’s pulse thrummed in her throat, her skin still buzzing where winter had bitten her. she touched her collarbone absently, half-expecting to find teeth marks.

winter glanced back, catching the movement. her smirk was a dark promise in the flickering light. “regrets already?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the music.

karina shook her head, her fingers curling into fists at her sides to keep from reaching for winter again. “just… processing.”

winter laughed, low and knowing, and caught karina’s wrist, pulling her closer. “don’t think too hard,” she murmured, her breath hot against karina’s ear. “it’ll ruin the fun.”

the bartender slid another velvet hammer toward them before winter could even ask, his grin knowing as he wiped down the counter. winter tossed a bill onto the bar without looking, her attention fixed on karina. “drink,” she ordered, nudging the glass closer. “before you sober up and start overanalyzing.”

karina lifted the glass with trembling fingers, the sugar rim crumbling against her lips. the liquor burned less this time—or maybe she was just too distracted by the way winter’s thigh pressed against hers beneath the bar, warm and solid. winter’s fingers traced idle patterns on karina’s knee, her touch feather-light but searing through the slit in her dress.

____

the fluorescent lights of pinecrest high’s staff lounge buzzed like a swarm of angry wasps, each flicker sending a fresh spike of pain through karina’s skull. she clutched her coffee like a lifeline, the scalding heat of the cup barely registering through the fog of her hangover. the velvet hammer had lived up to its name—pounding through her temples with every heartbeat, each throb a cruel reminder of winter’s hands on her hips, the press of her teeth against karina’s throat—

the staff lounge door swung open with a groan, and karina’s spine stiffened before she even registered the familiar click of heels against linoleum. winter strode in with her usual predatory grace, her blazer slung over one shoulder, the sleeves of her crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows. the fibonacci tattoo peeked out from beneath the fabric, a teasing glimpse of the wildness beneath winter’s calculated exterior. karina’s throat went dry. she ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the swirls of her coffee, but not before catching the way winter’s gaze flickered toward her—lingering on the high collar karina had buttoned to the throat, the way her fingers trembled around the mug.

“morning,” winter murmured, sliding into the chair beside her. too close. always too close. the scent of bergamot and something darker—spiced, smoky—wrapped around karina like a second skin. “you look… functional.”

karina’s cheeks burned. she risked a glance sideways and immediately regretted it. winter’s smirk was a living thing, curling at the edges like she knew exactly how much damage they’d done to each other in that bathroom stall. karina’s grip on her coffee tightened. “i’m fine,” she lied, her voice rasping. “great, even.”

winter’s laugh was a low, knowing hum. she reached across the table, plucking a sugar packet from the dispenser with deliberate slowness. her fingers brushed karina’s wrist in the process—accidentally on purpose—and karina jerked back like she’d been scalded. winter’s eyebrow arched. “jumpy.”

the staff lounge door swung open again, admitting a flood of chatter and the clatter of mugs. karina seized the distraction like a lifeline, twisting in her seat to put distance between them. winter’s fingers tapped a silent rhythm against the formica tabletop, her gaze heavy on the back of karina’s neck.

“so.” winter’s voice dropped, intimate despite the room’s growing noise. “about last night—”

karina’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly, coffee sloshing over the rim of her mug. “i have—” her voice cracked. “papers. to grade.” she fled before winter could respond, her heels clicking a frantic retreat down the hallway.

the fluorescent lights buzzed louder in the empty corridor, each step sending a fresh bolt of pain through her skull. she pressed a hand to her sternum, willing her pulse to slow. it was ridiculous. she was a grown woman, not some flustered teenager—but the memory of winter’s teeth on her collarbone turned her knees to water.

a shadow fell across her path. karina looked up—and froze. winter leaned against the doorframe of her classroom, arms crossed, the morning light slanting through the blinds to stripe her silhouette in gold. her smirk was a live wire. “running away?” she purred, tilting her head. “after you begged so prettily?”

karina’s face burned. she clutched her coffee tighter, the heat seeping through the ceramic. “i didn’t—” the lie died on her tongue. she had. repeatedly. against the bathroom tiles, her fingers tangled in winter’s hair, her voice breaking around winter’s name. winter pushed off the doorframe, closing the distance between them in three strides. karina backed up instinctively, her shoulders hitting the lockers with a metallic clang. winter’s palm landed beside her head, caging her in. up close, karina could see the faint smudge of eyeliner beneath her lashes, the way her shirt clung to the dip of her waist. the scent of bergamot and something darker wrapped around her, pulling her under.

“look at me,” winter murmured.

karina’s gaze flicked up—then immediately away. her pulse thundered in her ears, loud enough that she was sure winter could hear it. the morning light caught the gold flecks in winter’s eyes, turning them molten. “i—we can’t—”

winter’s thumb brushed karina’s chin, tilting her face up. “why not?” her voice was a low tease, her breath warm against karina’s lips. “scared someone’ll see?

karina swallowed. the hallway was empty save for the distant murmur of faculty chatter, but the weight of potential eyes prickled across her skin. winter’s smirk deepened, her fingers sliding down to trace the high collar of karina’s blouse—the one she’d buttoned to hide the marks.

“you’re overdressed,” winter observed, her fingertip catching on the top button. “yesterday, you were all silk and lace. today?” she tsked. “disappointing.”

karina’s breath hitched. winter’s knuckles brushed the hollow of her throat, feather-light, and she flinched—not from the touch, but from the memory it summoned: winter’s mouth hot on her skin, teeth scraping the delicate dip above her collarbone. her knees wobbled. winter noticed, of course. she always noticed.

“you’re blushing,” winter murmured, leaning in until her lips grazed karina’s ear. “even after everything.”

karina squeezed her eyes shut. the scent of bergamot and spiced vanilla clung to winter’s skin, dizzyingly familiar now. her fingers twitched at her sides, caught between the urge to shove winter away and drag her closer. the velvet hammer’s ghost burned in her veins, muddling her thoughts—or maybe that was just winter, smirking down at her like she knew exactly how unraveled she was.

the bell rang overhead, its shrill clang slicing through the tension. karina jerked back, her shoulders hitting the lockers again. winter didn’t move, her palm still braced beside karina’s head, her body a warm barrier against the world. students’ voices spilled into the hallway, laughter and shuffling backpacks swelling around them like a tide.

“class,” karina choked out, ducking under winter’s arm. her pulse hammered in her throat, loud enough to drown out the chaos of the corridor. she clutched her coffee like a shield, the mug’s heat long gone.

winter’s fingers caught her wrist before she could flee. “later,” she said, not a question but a promise. her thumb stroked the delicate skin above karina’s pulse point once—twice—before releasing her.

karina fled.

pffft it was lwk my fault that i got hacked i was being so stupid and thats how they hacked it

LMFAO THATS UNDERSTANDABLE ITS FINE DW

exactly