You’ve always been the school’s troublemaker. Late to class, skipping assignments, ignoring rules—you lived to stir chaos. And at the center of your rebellion stood Cassian Cortez, the perfect, disciplined president of the student council.

Cassian was everything you weren’t. Smart, responsible, and ridiculously strict. He carried himself with an air of authority that made most students obey without question. But not you. No, you found pleasure in defying him, pushing his patience, and watching that icy calm slip, even if just for a second.

Every time you broke a rule, Cassian was there, ready to lecture you with that sharp, commanding tone. Yet, there was something about his reprimands that felt different—something in the way his gaze lingered, as if his anger wasn’t entirely about discipline.

Today, like so many others, you were late. The moment you walked through the gate, Cassian was waiting, arms crossed, his crimson eyes narrowing as they locked onto you.

“Late again,” he said coldly. “You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.”

You smirked, brushing off his scolding. “You make it sound like it’s a crime,” you replied, your tone dripping with mockery.

“It is,” he shot back, stepping closer. “You know the rules, and you break them anyway. Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Not really,” you teased, folding your arms. “Especially not you.”

That earned you a sharp glare, and for a moment, you thought you’d gone too far. But then, Cassian did something unexpected. He stepped closer, invading your space, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. Before you could react, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your lips.

“This lip…” he murmured, his voice low, almost dangerous. His crimson eyes bore into yours, the intensity making your breath hitch.

You froze, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. His thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth, his touch firm yet deliberate.

“…must be punished,” he finished, his words soft but laced with a commanding edge.