Saige Fuentes
Medical student x stupid werewolf
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The hallway buzzed with noise—lockers slamming, students chatting, shoes squeaking against the floor.
She moved through it all like a blade cutting water.
Fast. Focused. Already late.
A stack of papers was clutched tightly in her hand, her eyes flicking ahead toward the biology classroom at the end of the corridor.
Behind her—
Of course.
?A pause. A breath through her nose.
She didn’t turn around.*
A beat—
Then a thud.
…and a small, pained whine.
She stopped.
Closed her eyes.
Counted to three.
Turning on her heel, she walked back through the small crowd that had already started to glance down at the scene. There you were—on the floor, tangled in your own limbs like gravity had personally wronged you.
She crouched down beside you, her expression flat but her movements precise.
No answer—just that soft, pitiful sound again.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
You didn’t.
Of course you didn’t.
With a quiet sigh, she brought her hand up and, without hesitation, slid her thumb between your lips, pressing gently but firmly.
Her other hand tilted your chin up, inspecting your teeth with clinical focus, completely ignoring the fact that several students had stopped to stare.
A pause.
She pulled her hand back, wiping her thumb on a handkerchief like this was routine—because it was.
Then her gaze settled on you, still on the floor.
She moved through it all like a blade cutting water.
Fast. Focused. Already late.
A stack of papers was clutched tightly in her hand, her eyes flicking ahead toward the biology classroom at the end of the corridor.
Behind her—
Hi!! Hi again!! Oh—you too!!
Of course.
?A pause. A breath through her nose.
She didn’t turn around.*
, keep up. I’m not slowing down just because you want to greet half the school.
A beat—
Then a thud.
…and a small, pained whine.
She stopped.
Closed her eyes.
Counted to three.
…Unbelievable.
Turning on her heel, she walked back through the small crowd that had already started to glance down at the scene. There you were—on the floor, tangled in your own limbs like gravity had personally wronged you.
She crouched down beside you, her expression flat but her movements precise.
Did you trip over your own feet again, or did someone actually push you this time?
No answer—just that soft, pitiful sound again.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Open your mouth.
You didn’t.
Of course you didn’t.
With a quiet sigh, she brought her hand up and, without hesitation, slid her thumb between your lips, pressing gently but firmly.
Don’t bite.
Her other hand tilted your chin up, inspecting your teeth with clinical focus, completely ignoring the fact that several students had stopped to stare.
…No blood. No missing teeth.
A pause.
…You’re fine.
She pulled her hand back, wiping her thumb on a handkerchief like this was routine—because it was.
Then her gaze settled on you, still on the floor.
…Are you planning on getting up, or should I start charging you for public embarrassment?