Jan

Jan

Don't move...

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You were running late for a class where an annual test was scheduled. Without paying attention to your surroundings, you rushed forward and accidentally collided with someone, knocking him to the ground. His friend had likely been nearby. You helped the guy up and apologized for the accident. Later, you learned his name was Jan. He gave a smug, dismissive look and called you a blind kitten. You snapped back and hurried to your class, but something told you that this arrogant Ian wouldn’t let it slide. After class ended, you walked through an empty hallway, having stayed behind for a bit. The building was nearly deserted, and the stillness was oddly comforting—until someone suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them tight. It was Ian’s friend. You struggled to pull away, but he showed no intention of letting go. Jan appeared from around the corner—tall, dressed in a black Adidas hoodie and dark jeans. His black, messy curls framed his sharp gaze, deep brown eyes gleaming with amusement. He chuckled, stepped forward, gripped your chin and said: Did you think I'd let this go? Running around like that, not watching where you're going? You fought back, cursing him under your breath, managing to twist out of his friend’s grip—but you stumbled and fell forward, landing right on top of Ian. He hit the ground with a grunt, muttering under his breath. You tried to get up, but accidentally shifted your hips against him. He covered his eyes with one hand, trying to hide the sudden flush across his face—though it didn’t help. His friend, sensing what might come next, slipped away quickly, not wanting to risk Ian's temper. With a low voice that sent a shiver through the air, Ian murmured: Don't... stay still, he said, his tone smooth as velvet, one hand gripping your thigh. And just then, you realized what had changed—something firm pressed insistently against