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bywons · 3 months ago

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WHISPERS BEHIND VELVET ✷ AGENT!PJS

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬──── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝖺𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋

【 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 】｡ 𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍!𝗃𝖺𝗒 & 𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍!𝖿!𝗋 2332w 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗌𝗉𝗒 𝖺𝗎 ━━━━ 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ❛ 愛 ❜

する ܃ something out of my comfort zone, tried my best not to go overboard with it ! i hope you guys will like it, then maybe we'll get more agent enha :3

reb𝑙ogs────𝑓eedbacks 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 ꪆৎ

“this is it. keep your head in the game, rookie.”

jay’s voice is calm, yet there’s an undercurrent of tension in his tone. the quiet command sends a shiver down your spine as you watch him adjust the cufflinks of his black tuxedo with meticulous precision. everything about jay screams control—his posture, his movements, even the way he holds himself. he’s been in situations like this countless times, while for you, this is your first real undercover mission. you feel the weight of it pressing down on your chest.

“i’ve got this,” you reply, though the words sound hollow even to your own ears.

jay glances at you with a sharp, knowing look, his lips curving into that signature smirk of his. “we’ll see.”

as you’re about to get yourself ready for the mission in your mind, jay is quick to break it.

he slides his hand around your waist, and pulls you in until you bump against his chest. blood rushes to your cheeks as you gasp, softly trying to push him off.

“don't,” jay states, his voice firm and strict. he looks at you from the corner of his eyes, his infamous smirk on his face, “we’re husband and wife for the night.”

you gulp, slowly nodding at your superior before stepping out of the car.

you swallow hard, nodding as you grip the fabric of his tuxedo tighter. “right.”

he adjusts the strap of your dress that had slipped slightly, his fingers brushing against your bare shoulder. “relax. and remember, follow my lead.”

his touch is firm but not overbearing, and you force yourself to relax, your hands smoothing over the fabric of your dress as you lean into him. “fine. but next time, give me a warning.”

jay leans closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “noted, darling.”

the valet opens the doors to the casino, and you step out into the night. the rush of cool air hits you as you survey the sprawling, glittering casino before you. the monte carlo casino is everything you’ve read about and more—opulent, filled with sharp-dressed gamblers, the rich scent of cologne mixing with the faint hum of excitement in the air. chandeliers hang overhead, casting soft golden light onto the marble floors.

you adjust your black satin dress, the coolness of the night air brushing your bare arms. the dress fits you perfectly, hugging every curve and leaving just enough to the imagination. the slit that runs up your leg is meant to be daring, and it certainly is, but it also makes you feel like you’re walking into the lion’s den with your heart pounding.

beside you, jay smooths out his tuxedo and pulls at his cufflinks one more time. “remember the plan,” he says softly, leaning in just enough for only you to hear.

you nod, fighting the nerves bubbling in your chest. “act, distract, gather intel. piece of cake.”

“stay alive, rookie,” he adds, his tone firm, though there’s an underlying edge to his words.

you want to argue, but you just nod, clenching your jaw. staying alive. right.

the casino's grand entrance swallows you both, and as you step inside, the atmosphere changes immediately. the murmur of conversations fills the space, punctuated by the clinking of glasses, laughter, and the sounds of roulette wheels spinning. every corner of the room is bathed in soft, warm light, reflecting off the gilded trim and luxurious décor. high-rollers sit at card tables, their laughter loud and smug, while others try their luck at the slot machines.

jay’s hand brushes the small of your back, and though it seems like a gesture of intimacy, you know it’s a signal. a reminder to stay alert. you walk side by side through the casino, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, your eyes scanning the room.

the target, marcus delacroix, sits at a corner table, his face familiar even from this distance. marcus is a man who exudes wealth and power, his tailored suit and diamond-studded rings just as much a part of his personality as his menacing grin. he’s notorious in the arms trade, and he’s known for his temper and ruthlessness.

“remember,” jay whispers, “you're the star of the show, y/n. let me sugar talk to him and you get the drive. one mistake and he escapes.”

you flash jay a tight smile, nodding slightly. you’re no rookie in this line of work, but the nerves are still there. you can’t help it. this mission is a big one.

the two of you approach the table. marcus looks up at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long. his gaze is predatory, a glint of recognition flickering in his eyes.

“mr. delacroix,” jay greets, extending a hand, his tone smooth but firm. “james daniels. and this is my wife, victoria.”

marcus doesn’t immediately take jay’s hand. Instead, his gaze flicks over to you again, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your appearance. “a pleasure to meet you both,” he says, his voice slow and deliberate. “i have to admit, james, your wife is even more captivating in person.”

“she’s not just captivating,” jay replies, his voice dripping with a light charm as he pulls you closer, “she’s my good luck charm.”

you can feel marcus’s eyes lingering on you, along with jays, as though trying to peel back the layers. you force a smile, leaning into jay slightly. “it’s a pleasure,” you say, your voice smooth.

marcus gestures to the chairs around the table. “please, have a seat. join the game. it’s not every day i have such fine company.”

you sit, playing your part flawlessly, and the game begins. your eyes flicker over the chips and cards, but your mind remains focused on marcus. every word he says is calculated, every movement purposeful. you catch glimpses of the guards stationed throughout the room, their eyes scanning the crowd. two near the bar. another by the exit. more near the staircase. you notice the subtle but deadly threat in their eyes.

through your earpiece, your handler’s voice crackles to life. “rookie, you’ve got fifteen minutes. delacroix’s laptop is in the suite upstairs. two guards posted outside. you need to move quickly.”

you glance at jay, who’s talking to marcus, his expression engaging but calculating. without missing a beat, he subtly glances over to you and gives the slightest nod.

“got it,” you whisper.

you excuse yourself from the table with a warm smile, smoothing down the front of your dress. “if you’ll excuse me, i need to freshen up,” you say lightly, your tone betraying none of the tension coursing through your body.

marcus’s gaze lingers on you, his smile sharp and untrusting. “don’t keep him waiting too long, mrs. daniels.”

you chuckle softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against jay’s cheek for added effect. “i never do.”

jay’s hand squeezes yours under the table briefly, a subtle signal to stay focused. you give him a slight nod and turn on your heel, heading toward the grand staircase that leads to the private suites.

the casino floor hums with energy, but the second floor is quieter, its opulence more understated. plush carpets line the halls, and abstract art decorates the walls. as you approach the suite at the end of the corridor, your pulse quickens. two guards stand at attention outside the door, their sharp eyes tracking your every move.

you don’t hesitate. confidence is your best weapon now. pulling out your compact mirror, you glance at your reflection, pretending to fix your lipstick as you stumble slightly on your heel.

“oh,” you mutter, looking up at the guards with an apologetic smile. “i’m sorry—new shoes. are the restrooms down this way?”

one of the guards hesitates, glancing at his partner. “no. they’re downstairs,” he says gruffly, jerking his chin toward the staircase.

“thank you!” you reply cheerfully, walking past them as if you’re heading back to the main floor.

once you’re out of their line of sight, you duck into a small alcove and pull out the lock-picking tool hidden in your clutch. with quick, practiced movements, you bypass the suite’s secondary door a few feet away from the guards.

“rookie, status?” jay’s voice crackles in your earpiece, his tone calm but firm.

“inside,” you whisper.

the suite is dimly lit, the faint scent of cigars lingering in the air. the room exudes wealth—dark wood furniture, leather armchairs, and a massive desk that holds marcus’s laptop. you make your way to it quickly, plugging in the usb drive and initiating the data transfer.

as the progress bar creeps forward, you hear muffled voices outside.

“rookie, you’ve got two minutes,” jay’s voice warns, a hint of urgency slipping through his usual calm.

“almost done,” you mutter, your eyes darting between the screen and the door.

just as the transfer completes, the door bursts open, and one of the guards storms in, his gun already drawn.

“step away from the desk,” he growls.

your heart pounds, but you force yourself to stay calm. you raise your hands slowly, stepping back as your mind races for a plan.

before the guard can act, a muffled shot rings out, and he crumples to the ground.

you turn to see jay in the doorway, his gun raised, the suppressor still smoking.

“cutting it close, aren’t you?” you quip, your voice shaky but light.

jay steps into the room, his eyes scanning it quickly before turning to you. “grab the drive. we need to move.”

you snatch the usb drive from the laptop and follow jay into the hallway. more footsteps echo from the direction of the staircase, and jay’s jaw tightens.

“run,” he orders, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward.

you sprint down the hallway, your heels pounding against the carpet as adrenaline courses through your veins. the echo of heavy boots behind you grows louder, and you chance a glance over your shoulder.

jay, a step behind you, fires off two precise shots over your shoulder. a guard grunts and falls, but another rounds the corner almost immediately, shouting for backup.

chaos soon ensues in the casino, causing screams and shouts from the rich guests, evacuating the casino soon enough.

“left!” jay barks, and you veer sharply, skidding slightly on the polished floor as you turn the corner.

a guard steps into your path, raising his weapon, but jay is faster. he shoves you behind him, lunging at the man with brutal efficiency. one hand grips the guard’s wrist, twisting the gun free, while the other slams into his jaw with enough force to send him sprawling.

“keep going!” jay snaps, shoving the gun into his pocket as he pushes you forward.

you run, the sound of your own breath loud in your ears. the grand staircase comes into view, but two more guards block the way.

“stay behind me,” jay says, his voice low and commanding.

you press yourself against the wall as jay moves. one guard charges at him, but jay sidesteps smoothly, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the marble railing. the second guard draws a knife, slashing at jay, but he deflects the blow with his forearm and counters with a sharp kick to the man’s knee.

the guard stumbles, and jay finishes him with a swift punch to the temple.

“downstairs. now,” jay says, grabbing your hand again and pulling you down the staircase.

the casino floor is chaotic, the commotion from upstairs drawing attention from the guests and staff. you weave through the crowd, jay keeping a firm grip on your hand as you head toward the exit.

but marcus himself steps into your path, his gun trained on jay.

“going somewhere?” marcus sneers, his expression cold and calculating.

jay doesn’t hesitate. he lunges forward, grabbing marcus’s wrist and twisting it sharply. the gun clatters to the floor as jay delivers a brutal punch to marcus’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

“move,” jay growls, steering you toward the exit as more guards converge on the scene.

the two of you burst into the cool night air, your chest heaving as you stumble to a stop in the shadow of the casino. before the guards or any of marcus's men can grab you both, jay pulls you into a black limo which drives off instantly.

“you alright?” jay asks, his dark eyes scanning you for injuries.

“yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

jay leans closer, his hand cupping your face as he studies you. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.

the kiss is fierce, raw, a collision of adrenaline and relief. his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as the chaos of the mission fades away. the heat of his body against yours grounds you, his presence overwhelming in the best way. you pull him closer by his collars, and he smirks into the kiss.

jay doesn't care there's a driver inside the car too, at this moment he just cares how your lips move against his, as he practically pulls you into his lap.

his lips travel from your lips to your jaws to your neck and then back at your lips, his hands traveling everywhere.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“you did good tonight,” jay murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“so did you,” you reply, your heart still racing.

jay smirks, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “next time, don’t make me work so hard to save you.”

“next time, maybe you let me save you,” you tease, your tone light despite the lingering adrenaline.

jay chuckles softly, wrapping an arm around your waist. “come on. we will do better next time.”

together, you disappear into the night, with jays lips back on yours.

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels @k-films @k-nets CLICK ME

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thekinslayed · 6 months ago

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Finally A Targaryen

summary | The nature of your marriage with Aemond is shaken when you are caught kissing the gardener.

pairing | modern!aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI!, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, semi-arranged marriage, neglected wife, infidelity (it's one kiss lol), reader's into sweaty guys ?, jealousy, possessive aem, mention of drug use

wordcount | 3.5k

note | whoever can guess which satc episode this is based on gets a cookie and a kiss on the forehead... <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The cicadas buzzed in the late midsummer haze, holding your hand as you wandered the gardens of Dragonstone Manor all alone. Your husband was on the tennis court with his brothers, as he always was most afternoons you’ve spent in his family home. Not that he cared much for what you busied yourself with, but you were sure to face the disapproving sharpness in his eye when he found out you were once again missing from the aperitif his mother was having on the veranda with the other ladies. Alicent was sweet, but gods, you couldn’t stand sitting through another bout of her re-telling of Targaryen history despite being married into the dragon’s den herself. You have heard more than enough of dragon lore, medieval inbreeding, and the many Aegons, including the current one who snuck bumps of snow before each family meal to keep his sanity. If you were any less careful, you would’ve given in to his invitation long ago and huddled next to him in the powder room sink for a line.

These people were rich, that was to be sure, of insurmountable wealth well before democracy had even been established. Your family, on the other hand, was new money. Your father had struck gold when he made his way up the corporate ladder of his real estate firm during his tenure, making himself the top dog with a key to a 12th-floor office and another to the secret world of the rich.

It was how you met Aemond.

Walking through the step stones across the manicured gardens, you couldn’t help but sigh at the memory of your life before him. He had been so sweet at first, lovely enough that you couldn’t deny the inevitable push of fate into his arms. What a fool you had been, too starry-eyed over that unmistakable silver hair and the smooth timbre of his voice to realize it was not fate at all but the expert machinations of Otto Hightower and his desire to add your father’s firm to Valyria Corp.’s extensive belt of partners. Your friends warned you a million times— the perfect man didn’t exist. Your heart used to beat a little faster with every man who held the slightest potential of being the one, thinking him perfect until he wasn’t. Now your husband, he was just… there. Courteous enough to see you well taken care of but out of your reach when it really mattered.

Love was a fallacy in this world. Who needs love when you can have so much more with enough power and money? Loyalty was an even bigger farce. Marriage simply served as a means for business, you’ve seen it now. It was no wonder that Helaena seemed more than happy to be without her husband, Cregan, on this summer getaway. Wolves don’t do well in the southern sun, she simply said when you asked about him, apparently stuck to his father’s firm in his hometown of Winterfell. Aegon and his wife, Mirella Lannister, were no image of a devoted marriage either, both were consistently caught with other big names by the press. They seemed to get along well, however, if the loud thumping from down the hall nightly was anything to go by.

Heavily occupied in your thoughts, you reached the edge of the multi-acre plot without realizing it. The estate overlooked a quiet river on the back end, though surrounded by an impressive topiary for privacy, with rose bushes littered all around. There was always something to work on in Dragonstone, always a leaf out of shape for the gardeners to trim and keep them busy.

One of them took care of the roses. Young, strawberry-blond curls, and a well-built physique that glimmered with sweat under the blistering sun. Danny, you heard them call him. He was pretty, not in the sleek, highly tailored way that Aemond was, but his rugged edges held a charm that made any simple girl blush. You’d seen him throughout your stay, always so diligent at work in the gardens every time you spotted him on your walks. He would greet you with a respectful, dimpled smile as he asked about your day, and it would take effort to keep your composure as he wiped the sweat off his brow with the edge of his shirt.

There was no harm in it. You were simply… admiring. Just because you were now a married woman didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate a fine-looking man when you saw him, it was objective. His arms were nicely rounded with definition, as was his back, muscles ripping beneath his damp tank. You wondered what else those hands could do, perhaps he could plow something else, something left neglected and wanting…

“Afternoon, ma’am.”

You jumped at the sudden low tone, finding yourself unknowingly staring like an idiot. Danny leaned his weight on his shovel, a crooked smile on his sweaty face that made something flutter deep within you.

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly, cheeks warming up like a sudden heat wave had blazed the area.

“All on your own again, ma’am?” he queried, naturally resuming his work while giving you his attention. You tried to play it cool by leaning on the tree right by him, though fidgeting with the sparkling stone on your ring finger. Shit, he wasn’t catching onto you, is he? What an embarrassment that would be, the boss’ new wife sneaking around for the gardener’s attention.

“Yes, just needed some air,” you responded as casually as you could, and Danny nodded in understanding.

“That house can get stuffy, doesn’t it? As big as it is, nobody ever wants to stay there for long,” he said, slightly panting as he worked on the soil. Closer than you had been, you could smell him from where you stood. He had such an intoxicating scent about him, a mixture of sweat, musk, and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. It made you dizzy with a newfound heat. You wanted more of it. You wanted a taste of the salty tang of his sweat on your tongue against his hot skin.

What were you doing? You’re married! Okay, perhaps your sex life had become a little pedantic compared to when you were still on the market, but you had made a vow!

“I’m still getting to know my way around it, I’ll admit,” you chuckled. Danny’s smile widened at the sound, grabbing his shears to snip off a blooming rose and offering you a stem. “Oh! How pretty,” you smiled up at him, pressing the soft petals to your nose to inhale the sweet scent.

“Forgive me, madam, for being too forward, but this doesn’t seem like your type of crowd,” he said, taking a bold step closer. Your brows slightly dipped in confusion, head tilting in question.

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“You’re not like the rest of them rich folks. To anyone else, I’d be invisible.”

You looked up at Danny, words lost on your lips. You weren’t so different from him, both outsiders in the impenetrable world of the elite. The transition had not been so easy, not with a husband who felt like a stranger and a family who barely tolerated each other. It all overwhelmed you, and to be seen by a man like Danny…

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but the next thing you knew, you were grabbing the collar of his shirt and smashing your lips against his from the overwhelming blossom in your tummy. He tasted salty and sweet, of hard work and grit. You were hungry, as was he, tongues dancing and gliding as he pressed you against the aged oak.

Dinner was long, and cocktail hour even longer. Aegon and Aemond were bickering about who won the last round of tennis despite the youngest Daeron keeping score. You were nursing a pinot grigio as the conversation shifted to circle around the events of everyone else’s afternoon— Helaena and her new cradle of newly hatched creepy crawlies, Alicent’s ever-growing ire with the new neighbors and the scandal they brought with them. The lady of the house seemed to know everything, from the happenings in the staff room to whatever lay beyond the vines crawling to the next house over. What went around this place came back around the sitting room. The dry sweetness of the wine coated your tongue with every sip as you listened on quietly, mind still stuck in the gardens, under the grand oak with a certain warm blonde. Your lips still carried the salt of his sweat despite the rich lamb you had for supper. It was sinful, a taste of another man on your tongue while your husband sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’ve had quite the day myself,” Mirella spoke up, sharp blue eyes sweeping across the room. “I took a nice long swim in the morning, then I took a walk in the gardens in the afternoon—”

“Went hunting for your next feed?” Aemond snickered, earning a sarcastic smile from the lioness.

“Mh, yes, and after that I saw your lovely little wife kissing the gardener!”

The heat rushed to your face at once, eyes widening as Mirella’s jaw dropped in mock surprise. You ducked your head in utter humiliation, awaiting the flurry of gasps of disbelief coming your way. It was silent, which seemed to be worse. The only sound was the chiming of the grand clock at the turn of the hour, broken by the sudden shrill of Aegon’s cackle.

You looked up at your in-law’s faces, finding little shock in their features but rather amusement, especially so from your husband’s mother. Though you didn’t dare to look in your husband’s direction, who suddenly turned rigid at the news.

“Well, my dear, you are now finally a Targaryen,” she quipped, surprisingly nonchalant as she lifted her glass to be topped up. Your eyes flickered to Criston Cole, her closest personnel, who poured her wine in a flash, and everything started to click.

It was bizarre. Publicly outed in front of your in-laws yet met with no repercussions. In fact, it seemed you were now more welcome after such news. It should please you, make you feel closer to your new family, but Aemond was now colder than ever. When he was once mindful of getting you drinks at cocktail hour or making sure you were pleased with the garden access you had from the room you were staying in, he now actively avoided being alone with you. He indulged his brother in staying well past the appropriate hour and drank, sneaking back to your shared room only when you were asleep. It made things harder when neither one of you wanted to move into one of the spare rooms lest they wished to face his mother’s incessant prodding, the tail end of your summer turned into a sudden dance around not having to face each other.

This was your life now, perhaps. An irreparable marriage. A distant husband. So much for the fairytale romance you prayed the gods for.

With avoiding your husband came a shift in the daily routine you had established in Dragonstone Manor. You would usually be awake the moment you felt Aemond shift around to start the morning, the light sleeper that you were, but now you’ve taken to feign sleep until he left the room. Your arrival to breakfast would come a few minutes later than his, all nicely covered up with a smile towards the lady of the house.

On a particularly balmy morning, you took a nice jog around the property, narrowly avoiding your spouse, who was on his way to the steam room. You worked up a decent sweat, swiftly jumping into the shower right before breakfast. You took your time, thinking yourself wise, if you managed to avoid facing the family altogether. It was tiresome to keep up the persona you held in front of them. In some ways, you were glad you were getting more time to yourself with Aemond’s avoidance, a brief reprieve to drop your mask and loosen the tension in your shoulders.

Your little bubble of isolation burst when you found the man himself in the room when you exited the shower. You let out a small gasp in surprise, tightening your hold on the towel wrapped around your form when he turned to face you. It seemed your husband had been caught guard as well, the unmasked look of surprise on his handsome face at the sight of your undress. He composed himself in a blink, clearing his throat before turning to leave the room and shower in the other guest room instead.

“Are we never to speak anymore?” you spoke up, unable to stop the words from escaping your lips. Aemond stopped in his step, one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching the towel swung over his bare shoulder.

“Is that how you want it?” he responded. You scoffed at his indifference, ire starting to grow restless in the state of your marriage.

“Of course not,” you refuted. “But we have been living separate lives despite the fact you and I are married. I know you’re mad at me, husband.”

Aemond was silent for a long minute, and it made your heart thump loudly you feared he would hear it. He turned to face you, his gaze dark and sharp like a dragon provoked.

“You think it amuses me to hear my wife was kissing the fucking gardener, hm? In my own home, no less,” he said, his words slow and deep like a slithering snake. It should have you more scared than you were if it weren’t for the fiery frustration that made you bare your teeth back.

“I didn’t expect you to be bothered so much, seeing that seems to be the way all marriages work in this world,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“What did you say?” he snapped.

“You don’t care about me, Aemond. There’s no need to start pretending now,” you said, keeping your chin lifted high as your husband approached with a menacing glint in his eye.

“You carry my name. I would not have my wife acting like some harlot,” he seethed, pointing an accusing finger in your face. If you had the courage, you would have slapped his hand away and perhaps another across his cheek for thinking so low of you. He had quite the gull to blame it all on you, not when he had kept his own wife an outsider.

“Titles alone don't mean much. Haven’t we already established that?” you pointed out, turning to head to the closet when your husband grabbed you by the elbow to pull you back around.

“Perhaps I should make my point clearer.” You were barely spared a moment to retort when Aemond’s lips smashed straight into yours, claiming in a bruising kiss. He tasted different than Danny, an addicting mix of tobacco and mint that kept you wanting more. His strong hands pulled you flush to his chest, the towel slowly slipping off from your bare body. You grounded yourself by gripping his shoulders, warm and damp from the steam room.

He was all over you before you could gather your bearings. All the times you both had spent in the bedroom were respectful, mild even, but never like this. He had flung the towel off your body in one swipe, leaving you bare in front of him. You crossed your arms to cover yourself, but his firm grip kept you uncovered.

“Don’t be so shy now, it’s just me,” he smirked before dipping to capture your pert nipple into his mouth. Your sounds were shy, though growing in courage as your husband sucked on your tit and fondled the other. His large, warm palms explored every inch of your bareness, squeezing with a firmness that left your skin tingling. When he switched his attention to your other breast, his fingers slithered their way to your heart, trespassing your folds despite your attempt to squeeze them shut. “For a woman who hates being my wife, you sure are wet for me.”

You had to blame it on the prolonged lack of satisfaction, but the way he was caressing your folds and circling your clit was breaking your resolve with ease. You grabbed his nape to pull him back to your lips, kissing him with a plea for more. Desperation growing, your hand descended his chest to his shorts, palming his growing hardness.

“Please,” you mewled, slightly pouting up at your husband.

“Please, what, love? Tell me nicely, and I might give it to you,” he teased, shallowly dipping two fingers into your cunt before swiping them back out.

“I need you, husband, please,” you pleaded, eyes starting to well up in frustration. You peppered persuading kisses all over his jaw and neck when he let your hand slip past his shorts to grab hold of his cock, hot and stiff in your smaller palm.

“Poor you,” he frowned in mocking before his lips returned to their natural state of a smirk as his fingers continued to work your dripping cunt up. Hope bloomed in your chest as he turned you around to face the bed frame, pressing on the small of your back to bend you over.

You braced your arms on the soft mattress as you waited, tuning into the rustling of his shorts being dropped. The anticipation burned in your chest, making you gasp when you felt something hot and blunt press against your folds. It swiped up and down your slit, gathering slick and teasing your pearl. It made you whine, hips wriggling back in impatience.

Behind you, your husband chuckled darkly. His warm palm ran down the length of your spine, squeezing your waist, before leaving a hard smack on your arse that lurched you forward on impact and made you yelp. Heat bloomed beneath your skin, his mark no doubt left on the imprint of his hand.

“You know what that was for, don’t you?” he asked, his voice growing gravelly with a heated desire. You nodded, obedient and pliant, as you turned your head to look at him. His eyelid was heavy as he looked down at you, his hand lazily stroking his cock. You stared at it as though you were starved, craving it like none else you had wanted before.

Aemond would think himself kind to finally end your torment. He lined up his cockhead to your hole, pressing into your walls and burying himself to the hilt in one breath. It knocked the breath out of you as your husband rocked into you with vigor, his pace bruising and unforgiving from the start. You fisted the sheets to keep your balance, tits bouncing with every harsh slam. Soon enough, your arms gave out, and your face smushed into the soft mattress while Aemond grabbed hold of your hair. He forced your head to the side, where you faced the double doors leading out to the garden, covered only by the sheer curtains. Despite the hard jolts that left your view scrambled, you could see an outline of a figure in the gardens, the light shadows of a certain head of strawberry-blonde hair unmistakable, and you wondered if he could see the precarious position you were in.

“Look, it’s your little sweetheart,” Aemond cooed, holding you up by the elbows to speak in your ear. “Why don’t you show him how well your husband fucks you, hm? Let the whole fucking staff hear you.” His hand snaked down your front, rubbing your clit with urgent circles to barrel you straight to your end. Your back was arched against his chest, your moans reverberating against the centuries-old walls as you came— hard. Your thighs quivered with fatigue, knees buckling while he continued to ram into you to chase his end, holding you steady with a firm grip on your arms. You had started to see stars when Aemond came with a harsh groan, warmth spurting in your pulsating walls.

You collapsed on the bed, breathless and broken in, while Aemond disappeared into the bathroom. As he returned with a warm towel to clean you up, you watched as the figure walked away from your view, leaving you alone. Something sparked in your chest when your husband softly caressed the harsh mark he had left on your rear, bending down to kiss it softly before placing another on your temple. You craned your head to meet his eye, and you let yourself hold out hope when you found him looking at you differently than before.

“Best get dressed; don’t want to keep them waiting,” Aemond said before turning back into the bathroom. In the silence of your isolation, with nothing but the faint sound of the shower keeping you company, you pondered on the aftermath. Others may call you foolish, but as you looked out to the perfect garden in your perfect husband’s perfect family home, perhaps you were still to find the perfect connection in your imperfect marriage.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader

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pulpmouldingmachine · 10 months ago

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altendorf-group-india · 1 year ago

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#edge trimming machine #trimming machine

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marlynnofmany · 24 days ago

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Honorable Battle Wounds

“I sprained my ankle really badly once,” I said as I opened the meal box. “I was running sideways and stepped on the edge of my shoe with all my weight, and went down hard.”

Coals, a lizardy fellow who didn’t wear shoes, nodded politely. “Sounds painful.”

Mimi, who didn’t even have feet, waved a tentacle and asked, “How does the shoe factor into it exactly?”

I stuck my leg out from under the table. “The flat part’s at the bottom, and if it’s bent to the side like this, then you could end up stepping down and really tearing up your ankle.”

“Right right, got it,” Mimi said with his rough voice, curling a tentacle. “I’ve seen that happen with machine couplings. Those bones of yours sure give you a lot to keep track of, with everything needing to face the correct way.”

“I’m sure you just have different problems,” I said, going back to my food. “Squishing instead of breaking will only take you so far.”

“Far enough,” Mimi objected. “I’ve squished into safe places when someone with rigid limbs would have gotten crushed by falling hull panels. Squishy is the way to go as far as I’m concerned.” He picked up a flat spoon by sticking his suction cups to it, and scooped up a lump of something from the big seafood sample platter in the middle of the table.

Coals took the Heatseeker fork off his finger (really it’s a little cuff with tines sticking out to keep his claws from getting dirty) and he held up his pointer finger in silence. He pointed at it with his other scaly hand.

“Yes?” Mimi grumbled around his mouthful. “Your point?”

“Very pointy,” Coals agreed. He mimed running a claw across Mimi’s nearest tentacle. “How often do you get cut by points like this?”

Mimi scoffed. “Rarely. I’m not a child.”

“You’re also not protected,” Coals said as he put the fork back on. It clicked quietly against his scales. “I wouldn’t be too proud of that squish.”

“How often do you cut yourself with your own claws?” Mimi retorted.

“Rarely.” Coals grinned with a long jaw full of teeth. “I’m not a child.”

I put in, “I’ve cut myself with a fingernail before.”

They both turned to look at me.

“How?” asked Mimi.

“One time I was half asleep and brushing hair out of my eyes, and I guess I needed to trim that nail because I gouged a little chunk out of my forehead.” I pantomimed the misadventure. “Definitely one of my stupider injuries.”

Coals nodded. “I can see how that would make the list.”

Mimi leaned several tentacles on the table, rotating to look at me properly. “What else is on that list?”

“Oh, lots of things,” I said. “Misjudged the edge of a step, papercuts in general, got my hand too close to an animal that was a known biter, oh and there was the time I got fluffy holiday socks as a gift and slipped on the stairs. Thudded all the way to the bottom; really hurt my tailbone on that one. I threw those away immediately.”

Mimi was looking quietly judgmental, but Coals asked, “You have a tailbone? But no tail?”

“Yeah, it’s just part of the hip structure,” I said. “Some of the animals we’re distantly related to do have tails, but humans don’t have anything you can actually see. And yes, it can break,” I added for Mimi’s sake. “It’s very painful.”

With a gravelly chuckle, he said, “I’ll bet it is.”

Coals volunteered, “I’ve hurt my tail by falling on steps too. Not a bad injury, thankfully.”

Mimi just smiled some more and scooped up another chunk of fishy whatever. He seemed to be picking out all the pale ones, though so far Coals hadn’t complained.

My food was a pre-made collection of broccoli, chicken, breadsticks, and a fruit medley. Plus a cookie. I gazed at it, thoughts elsewhere. “What would happen if you fell down the stairs?” I asked Mimi. “Just bruises, or would you be in danger of rupturing something?” I pictured a cartoonish bundle of tentacles flailing down to land in a pile at the bottom.

“First of all, I’d just grab on and stop falling,” Mimi told me, gesturing with the spoon. “Second of all, that would take quite an impact.”

Coals forked a pale bit when he wasn’t looking. “How much of an impact? Have you jumped off a high place before?”

Mimi glared at him. “Now why would I ever do that?”

Coals ate the mouthful. “Science.”

I agreed. “Science is important! It would be good to know whether you can land like a cat and be fine, or roll on impact instead of going splat.”

“I’ll leave that for people like you who actually enjoy being in high places,” Mimi said. “Mur told me all about the time you fell out of a tree during a delivery run.”

“It wasn’t my fault the branch broke under me,” I said. “That’s why you’ve got to be prepared.”

“I’ll prepare by avoiding that nonsense, thanks. Working with engine parts is dangerous enough.”

Coals speared another chunk of food. “Any memorable injuries from the job? The worst I’ve gotten while doing translation work is eye strain.”

“Well,” Mimi said, delaying while he stirred up the sample platter. “I have gotten a couple tentacles pinched, and burned myself on an overheated element. But that was just because something else malfunctioned and I had to move out of the way. Poor timing.”

Coals tossed a watersphere into his mouth and popped it with his back teeth. “Trrili would call that honorable battle wounds against inanimate objects.”

“Sure felt like it,” Mimi agreed. “Sometimes the engine really does pick a fight.”

I nodded vigorously. “I think our biggest cargo net has it out for me personally. I’ve broken a nail or scuffed a knuckle the last three times I tried to use it. Honorable battle wounds for sure!”

“Trrili would agree,” Coals told me.

“Yesss?” hissed a voice from the door. “What would I agrrrree to?”

Coals craned his neck up at the looming black-and-red nightmare that was his coworker in the translation room. “That injuries from inanimate objects count as honorable battle wounds when you’re telling the story later.”

Trrili angled her exoskeletoned body so she was even taller, faceted eyes gleaming in the lights. “I would never allow myself to be injured by a thing.”

“You sure?” Coals asked, inspecting his fork. “Even that time the support strut on your chair broke right when you sat down? You remember — it was after figuring out that intentionally dense and poetic greeting bundle, and you were so proud.” He looked at us while Trrili hissed quietly. “We were working on that one for a long time, and the customer was impatient, but she figured out the last line and we sent it, then collapsed in triumph. Right onto the floor, in her case. Almost cracked a limb.”

I tried not to laugh, but I could tell there were a lot of teeth in my smile. Mimi was grinning too. I said, “Trrili, you win the contest for stupidest injury.”

Trrili regarded us for a moment, mandibles flexing, then declared, “I am the winner in all things.”

She swept off down the hall in a whirl of shiny exoskeleton and pride, leaving the rest of us to finish our meals and think of more anecdotes to share.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#have a nice lighthearted one after the excitement of last week #my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #writblr #science fiction

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ki-yomii · 1 year ago

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hit the gym | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 1.5k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; hair pulling, mild dirty talk, established relationship, oral (m receiving), mild body worship?, teasing, hints of exhibitionism/voyeurism

➥ summary | stopping now would ruin all the fun.

➥ notes | yes it's true, i would give jungkook the sloppiest of toppies ✌️also greysweat pants iykyk. a random short one, hope you enjoy 🩶

🩶 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🩶

“Baby.”

Jungkook’s never looked so undone; his eyes hooded and hungry, his mouth raw and red-bitten. Wants so, so badly he’s practically vibrating with it.

And yet, he’s still holding back.

The sound of his knuckles popping as his hands clench into fists beside his hips echoes through the otherwise empty gym. It’s almost kind of precious how much he’s struggling against the urge to throw you back against the wall.

To take, take, take until you’re nothing but a trembling, soaked, thoroughly fucked mess.

You hum in response, digging your nails into the nape of his neck to feel the little shiver that zips down his spine. "What's got you so worried, huh?"

The fact he still has the restraint to resist railing you right then and there - even though he clearly wants to - is so intensely hot you almost choke on your own spit. When his eyes cut to yours, you almost moan at how intensely he stares.

“I just,” he trails off, hands flexing as he catalogs the darkened wall of windows, the entryway, the open space, "I don't think this is a good idea."

Right now, you're the only two in the gym.

While that could change, it's edging closer to midnight.

After several months of joining Jungkook for his exercises, you've found most people aren't as eager to hit the machines at all hours of the day like he is.

The likelihood of getting caught is significantly low which works perfectly for you because it's a high payoff with half the associated risk.

You pretend to think, "Mm, no. I think it's a great idea." Palms dancing over his tense shoulders, you tease your fingers along the loose neck of his t-shirt. "Don't you?"

Jungkook bites off a curse, his body rolling up into your touch. He works his jaw as his teeth tug on his lip piercings. You know he's just itching to drag you into a darkened corner.

"I-I... really, baby, can't we just - y'know? Why does it have to be here?"

No amount of half-hearted protests hides how hard Jungkook is. Deciding to wear grey sweatpants today works against him, the soft cotton slung low on his hips and clinging to the thick line of his fat cock.

You raise a brow, glancing down at where he's digging into your hip, "You were saying, Kook?"

A perverse spark of pleasure lights up your spine at the way his eyes slide away from yours, his throat bobbing when he swallows and shies away.

"Sh-shut up..."

Serves the tease right.

You've had to watch him work out, disheveled and sweat-slick for hours. Hear him grunt and whine from the strain of lifting heavy weights. It's only fair he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Anyway, the thought of being so exposed (without actually getting caught) is kind of exhilarating. Gets your blood pumping and arousal pulsing through your body. A pool of liquid heat blooming low in your belly.

After watching him struggle a little longer between what he wants, and what he thinks he should do, you make his decision for him.

Only as soon as your hand slips past the elastic waistband, your breath stutters in your chest. Where you expect to feel soft cotton, there are miles of smooth skin. With wide eyes, you trace along a hipbone before sliding the tips of your fingers down to brush through a trimmed thatch of pubic hair, stopping once you feel the silken base of his cock.

Jungkook's eyes flutter shut, a full body jolt rocking him into you as his mouth drops open in a guttural moan. Tendrils of arousal coil between your thighs, your pussy throbbing when your fingers close around his bare shaft and he throbs against your warm palm.

If you’d have known he decided to go commando, you’d have been on your knees within the first ten minutes.

Chewing on your lip, you give him a few slow pumps, tightening your grip on the upstroke. The heavy weight of his shaft glides through the circle of your fist with ease.

Your thighs clench.

“What were you saying again, Kook? Cause it looks to me like you worry too much.”

He hisses through his teeth, burrowing his face into his shoulder. The tips of his ears burn bright pink, a creeping blush sinking deep into the apples of his cheeks.

Without waiting for a response, you tug his sweats down as you sink to your knees. His flushed cock springs out, curving up towards his belly with a wet smack.

“Haah - don’t!”

You laugh - a breathless, eager sound - as your hands pet his tense thighs, watching as fat drops of pre-cum ooze down the swollen head, sticky strings clinging to dusky skin.

Fuck, you can't wait to get your tongue on him; to feel the weight of him in your mouth, the tang of his skin, and the taste of his cum as he fucks into the circle of your lips.

To hear the absolutely delicious groans of masculine pleasure that shoot straight to your clit.

“How can you say that when you’re so wet and ready for me?”

“That’s cheating,” Jungkook groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. He peeks down at you through the gaps in his fingers, gulping at how pretty you look on your knees with his cock in your hand. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

You hum, eyes sparking mischief as you dip down to brush a kiss along the strap of muscle above his hipbone. The smell of his bodywash surrounds you, tickling your nose. “Yeah, but you love it, don’t you?”

The sight of him looming over you, his hair a tussled mess and a starved glint to his coffee-dark eyes, is a visceral sucker punch that has your heart stuttering and your mouth watering. Wanting to sink your teeth in.

“You know I do,” he mumbles.

Brought to the very edge of control, left teetering; you wonder how much further you have to push until he breaks.

A blooming warmth hooks into your belly, spreads down to settle between your thighs. The crotch of your shorts is soaked through, every shift of fabric dragging along your sensitive folds. A whisper of friction that drives you insane.

“Mm, now are you ready, baby?”

Taking his silence for the acquiescence it is, you dip down and run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. His cock bobs, a fresh bead of pre-cum welling to the surface.

Watching him from beneath your lashes with a coy smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth, you clean him up with a kittenish lick. Following the trails of salty arousal with your tongue.

Jungkook grunts - choked-off, wounded sound that punches its way out his chest.

You hum, and slide your hands up over his thighs. Stopping when palms rest against his abs, your nails dig in, drag down. The muscles clench, red welts developing in the wake of your touch.

Satisfaction warms your blood, Jungkook’s next breath is a low hiss as he stutters, rocks forward before catching himself with a murmured curse, “S-Shit…”

His fist pounds against the wall - once, twice, three times. His jaw works fast as he scrambles to regain his slipping control. You know what buttons to push and with every careful caress, every calculated hint of rough, his body sparks to life.

He’s almost there, you can see it; all his savage edges creeping in, pressing against his skin. You can’t wait. It’s always so explosive between the two of you when he gives in, allows himself to truly whet his appetite.

He tangles his hand in your hair, digging a thumb into your bottom lip to watch as your mouth stretches around him. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

The grit of his voice, dark and full of hunger cuts through you. You moan around a mouthful of him, eyes fluttering shut as your veins fill with liquid fire. Your thighs rub together for relief from the ache in your pussy.

It’s so difficult to tease him because more often than not, you want nothing more than to pull off and hop on. To let him ride you hard. Put you away wet and thoroughly used.

But you can’t, not yet.

Stopping now will spoil all the fun.

Trying to distract yourself, you suckle on the head, roll your lips, and flick your tongue over the spongy flesh. When you dip into the slit, he whines, “Ohh..my god, oh ffuuh..ck yes.”

Those broad shoulders hunch forward over your head like he took a kick to the chest, a full-bodied shiver wracking his frame. He yanks on your hair and you clench in response, the little tremors in his thighs stroking your ego as you pop him out of your mouth.

“Mm, I think I do,” you purr, rubbing your tender, spit-slick lips along the shaft. “Now let me show you what you do to me.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fanfic

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w1w2 · 4 months ago

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Bored

Part 1 - Paradise on Venus | Part 2 | Part 3

Ningning x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 9k

Synopsis: At university, Y/N’s world is turned upside down when she meets Ningning, a magnetic musician with a reputation for breaking hearts.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The campus buzzed with life as the late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed quad. Students shuffled between classes and study groups, the muffled hum of conversation blending with the rustling of autumn leaves. In the heart of the engineering building, where the faint scent of solder and oil clung to the air, Y/N sat at her workstation.

The lab was a chaotic symphony of whirring machines and scattered blueprints. Y/N leaned over her desk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully adjusted the wires on a small circuit board. A faint smile tugged at her lips as the LED light flickered to life, signaling her success. “Finally,” she murmured to herself, tucking a loose strand of her natural brown hair behind her ear. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, streaked with faint smudges of graphite from an earlier sketch. She had always thought of herself as more practical than glamorous, but her bright smile and soft, heart-shaped face had a way of catching people off guard.

“Y/N, you’re a miracle worker,” said Chaewon, sliding onto a stool beside her. Chaewon’s clipboard was crammed with notes, and her sharp, focused expression softened with a grin. “I’ve been staring at that thing for three days, and I still don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s just practice,” Y/N replied with a modest shrug, her tone light and teasing. “And maybe a little caffeine.”

Chaewon smirked. “A little? That thermos of yours could fuel an entire marathon.”

Y/N grinned and took a sip of her coffee, the warm liquid fueling her for the hours of work still ahead. Despite her cheerful demeanor, she had a focused intensity when it came to her projects, a quality that had earned her respect among her peers. Yet outside her small circle of friends, Y/N often felt a bit shy, preferring the quiet comfort of her lab over the bustling chaos of campus life.

The lab door swung open, and Yunjin sauntered in, carrying a half-empty bubble tea. Her caramel-colored hair was swept into a loose bun, and she looked entirely too relaxed for someone who had a project deadline looming. “What’s up, nerds?” she said, flopping onto a chair and kicking her feet up on the edge of Chaewon’s desk.

“Yunjin, if you spill that tea on anything, I swear—” Chaewon began, her voice laced with exasperation.

“Relax, boss,” Yunjin interrupted with a playful grin. “I’m just here to deliver the latest campus gossip. Did you hear about Ningning?”

Chaewon rolled her eyes, but her curiosity got the better of her. “What about her?”

Yunjin leaned in conspiratorially, her tone dripping with drama. “She’s already moved on from that junior in drama. Apparently, they lasted all of two weeks. I heard she dumped them during their coffee date. Brutal.”

Y/N didn’t look up from her work, but she felt Chaewon nudge her with an elbow. “You’ve heard about Ningning, right?” Chaewon asked, lowering her voice. “The ‘heartbreaker’?”

“I think everyone has,” Y/N replied, her tone dismissive. “It’s hard not to when people won’t stop talking about her.”

Yunjin snickered. “Well, it’s not like she doesn’t deserve the title. Ningning’s a legend. Boys, girls, it doesn’t matter. She charms them all, and then poof, she’s onto the next.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Y/N said, tightening a screw on her circuit board.

“She’s not all bad,” Yunjin added with a shrug. “I mean, she’s gorgeous, and have you heard her sing? It’s like.. wow. I’d let her break my heart just for the experience.”

Chaewon groaned. “Please. You’d fall for anyone with a guitar.”

“True,” Yunjin said with a laugh. “But Ningning’s different. She’s like...irresistible, you know?”

Y/N finally glanced up, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Are we done with the Ningning fan club meeting? Some of us are trying to work.”

Yunjin held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Don’t get all grumpy. But seriously, Y/N, if she ever sets her sights on you, good luck. She’s like a black hole. No escape.”

Chaewon chuckled but quickly sobered. “Honestly, though, it’s better to stay out of her orbit. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone coming out of a thing with her unscathed.”

Y/N shrugged, her attention back on her project. “Not my problem. I’m not interested in distractions.”

“That’s the spirit,” Chaewon said with a small smile. “Engineering comes first.”

But even as Y/N joked, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder about the girl everyone seemed so fascinated by. Who was Ningning, really? Was she as shallow and fickle as the rumors claimed, or was there more to her than met the eye? The thoughts were fleeting, though, easily dismissed as Y/N immersed herself in her work.

The sun outside had dipped below the horizon by the time Y/N packed up her tools and slung her bag over her shoulder. The lab had emptied out, save for a few die-hard students hunched over their desks. As she stepped outside, the crisp evening air nipped at her cheeks, and the distant sound of laughter floated through the campus. For a moment, she paused to take it all in, the golden glow of streetlights, the murmured hum of conversations, the faint notes of music from a nearby dorm window.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from her reverie. It was Chaewon, already texting about their group project for the next week. Y/N smiled and typed out a quick reply, her thoughts shifting back to the familiar rhythm of deadlines and diagrams. She had no time for campus drama, and certainly no time for girls like Ningning.

As Y/N made her way back to her dorm, she couldn’t help but overhear snippets of conversation from passing students. Ningning’s name seemed to crop up everywhere, a casual remark here, a whispered comment there. It was as if the girl was woven into the very fabric of campus life. But Y/N shook her head, brushing the thoughts away. Whatever allure Ningning held for others, it wasn’t something she planned to get tangled in.

By the time Y/N reached her room, the campus was quiet, the night settling in like a soft blanket. She set her bag down, stretched, and let out a contented sigh. Her world was simple, structured, and predictable, just the way she liked it.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of cups filled the cozy coffee shop tucked away in a quiet corner of campus. Its warm, amber lighting and mismatched furniture gave it a charming, lived-in feel, a favorite spot for students seeking a moment of peace amidst their hectic schedules. Y/N had claimed a corner table near the window, a cup of steaming coffee by her side as she thumbed through her notebook, sketching ideas for her next project.

Outside, the late autumn sun filtered through the glass, casting golden streaks across her notebook. She absentmindedly tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, her focus entirely on the intricate lines forming on the page. It was one of the rare moments where she could block out the noise of the world and lose herself in her work.

Ningning had originally come in for a quick espresso to recharge between classes, but her attention snagged the moment she spotted Y/N by the window. She paused mid-step, her espresso order forgotten. Y/N’s quiet focus and natural beauty, framed by the warm glow of sunlight, were magnetic. Ningning tilted her head, her curiosity piqued.

The infamous heartbreaker was no stranger to attention, she thrived in it, danced in it, but there was something about Y/N that felt different. Ningning wasn’t used to people who radiated warmth but still seemed just out of reach, like sunlight on a cold day. Intrigued, she smoothed down her sweater and made her way over.

“Hey there,” Ningning said, leaning slightly against Y/N’s table with a casual confidence that turned heads. Her voice was light, playful, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of interest. “Mind if I join you?”

Y/N blinked, momentarily startled out of her thoughts. She glanced up, her eyes locking with Ningning’s. The other girl was striking, her dark hair framing her round face and her full lips curved into a disarming smile. It took Y/N a beat longer than she’d like to process the question.

“Oh, uh...” Y/N’s gaze flicked to the empty seat opposite her, then back to Ningning. “Sure?”

Ningning slipped into the seat, her movements as smooth as silk. “Thanks. I promise I’m not here to interrupt your work. You just seemed... interesting.”

Y/N arched a brow, her caution immediately flaring. “Interesting?”

“Yeah,” Ningning said, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Y/N openly. “You’ve got this whole focused but 'lost in your own world' vibe going on. It’s refreshing.”

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so she simply offered a polite smile and closed her notebook. “Thanks, I guess. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t,” Ningning said, extending a hand across the table. “I’m Ningning. But you can call me Ning. Everyone does.”

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking her hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Ningning repeated, her lips curling around the name like it was something to savor. “Cute name. It suits you.”

Y/N felt a faint heat rise to her cheeks and quickly looked down at her coffee. “Thanks.”

“So, what are you working on?” Ningning asked, gesturing to the notebook.

“Just some ideas for a project,” Y/N replied, keeping her answer deliberately vague. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to share the details of her engineering concepts with a stranger, even one as charming as Ningning.

Ningning, however, didn’t seem deterred by the lack of information. If anything, it seemed to amuse her. “Ah, the mysterious type,” she teased, her tone light. “I like that.”

Y/N glanced at her, trying to gauge her intentions. Ningning’s reputation echoed in her mind like a warning bell, but her demeanor, bright, playful, and somehow sincere, was disarming. Still, Y/N wasn’t about to let her guard down so easily.

“Not mysterious,” Y/N said, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Just focused.”

“Focused is good,” Ningning said, leaning back in her chair. “Focused means you’ve got your priorities straight. Let me guess.. engineering major?”

Y/N blinked. “How did you—?”

“It’s the vibe,” Ningning said with a grin. “The notebook, the intense concentration, the... thermos of coffee that could probably wake the dead. Am I right?”

Y/N chuckled softly despite herself. “You’re not wrong.”

“I knew it,” Ningning said, looking genuinely pleased with herself. “What kind of project? Robots? Cool gadgets? Something to save the world?”

“Something like that,” Y/N replied, her smile lingering. There was an ease to Ningning’s presence that was hard to ignore, even as her logical mind screamed at her to be cautious.

“So, what’s an engineering genius like you doing in a coffee shop? Don’t you have, like, a secret lair with lasers and blueprints or something?” Ningning’s tone was teasing, but her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity.

Y/N shook her head, a laugh escaping her. “Even geniuses need coffee breaks.”

“Well, I’m glad you took one,” Ningning said, her voice softening just enough to make Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Y/N felt her caution flare again. She straightened in her seat, the faint smile slipping from her face. “You seem pretty good at this,” she said, her tone measured.

Ningning tilted her head. “At what?”

“Talking,” Y/N said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Making people feel like the center of the universe. Charming them.”

Ningning’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, respect, perhaps, or maybe just intrigue. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I guess it depends on your intentions,” Y/N replied, her voice steady.

Ningning leaned forward slightly, her expression shifting to one of playful challenge. “And what do you think my intentions are?”

Y/N met her gaze evenly. “I don’t know. But I’m not exactly interested in finding out.”

Ningning chuckled, a low, melodic sound that made Y/N’s resolve waver just a little. “Fair enough. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“Oh?” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not good at talking,” Ningning said, her smile taking on a mischievous edge. “I’m just good at finding interesting people. And you, Y/N... you’re the most interesting person I’ve met in a while.”

Y/N wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or wary, so she settled for a polite nod. “Thanks, I guess.”

Ningning stood, her movements as fluid as when she’d arrived. “I should let you get back to your work. But I’m glad I came over.”

Y/N watched as she slid her chair back into place, her heart still beating a little faster than she’d like. “Thanks for stopping by,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

Ningning lingered for a moment, her gaze flickering over Y/N one last time. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” she said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I’m sure of it.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Y/N staring after her, a mix of curiosity and unease swirling in her chest. She shook her head, trying to focus on her notebook, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Ningning’s parting smile. Something about it told her this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

The days that followed their first encounter were, at first, unremarkable. Y/N busied herself with projects, classes, and her usual routine, convincing herself that the brief moment with Ningning was a one-off, a random meeting with no deeper implications. But she should have known better.

The first “coincidence” happened the next morning. Y/N had just found a seat in the campus library when Ningning appeared at the end of the aisle, a book in hand and a curious smile on her lips.

“Engineering, huh?” Ningning said, holding up the title. Fundamentals of Robotics.

Y/N blinked, then glanced at her own open textbook. “Let me guess.. you’re expanding your horizons?”

Ningning chuckled, slipping into the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation. “Something like that. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you again.”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a faint smile despite herself. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Always,” Ningning said, setting the book down. “So, how’s the genius project coming along?”

Y/N hesitated but found herself answering. “Still in the planning phase. It’s nothing exciting yet.”

“Everything you do seems exciting,” Ningning said, resting her chin on her hand.

Y/N shook her head, trying to fight the warmth creeping into her cheeks. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet,” Ningning replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

The encounters continued. A few days later, Y/N opened her notebook after a lecture, ready to jot down a few ideas that had struck her during class. As she flipped the pages, a small, folded note fluttered out and landed on her desk.

She picked it up, her brow furrowing in confusion. The handwriting was neat but playful, the letters looping elegantly across the page.

Y/N,

Don’t work too hard, save some time for coffee with me.

-Ning

Y/N stared at the note, her heart doing an uncomfortable flip. She turned it over, half-expecting to find more, but there was nothing except a phone number scrawled at the bottom.

She glanced around the lecture hall, half-expecting to see Ningning watching her from the doorway or the back of the room, but there was no sign of her. When had Ningning slipped this into her notebook?

The thought made her stomach flutter, though she quickly shook her head, dismissing the feeling.

For the rest of the day, the note lingered in her thoughts. Every time she opened her notebook, the looping letters seemed to taunt her. She told herself it was ridiculous to even consider texting Ningning. What would she say? And wasn’t this exactly the kind of thing she was trying to avoid?

But by the time she was back in her dorm room, the curiosity had become unbearable. Against her better judgment, she typed out a quick message and hit send.

So, when exactly did you sneak this into my notebook?

The reply came almost instantly, and Y/N’s pulse quickened as she read the response.

Let’s just say I have my ways. Don’t worry, your friends approve.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress a small smile. She could practically hear Ningning’s teasing tone through the words on the screen.

I’m busy, she typed back, hoping the simple response would end the conversation before it could begin.

Ningning’s reply was quick and disarmingly bold Then I’ll wait until you’re not.

Y/N stared at her phone, unsure whether to laugh or groan. The sheer audacity of the girl was both infuriating and, admittedly, a little charming. She didn’t reply, but as she set her phone aside, she realized her lips had quirked into an involuntary smile.

It wasn’t long before Ningning escalated her efforts. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to know where Y/N would be.

One day, Y/N stopped by the campus café for a quick lunch between classes. The place was crowded, and she barely managed to snag a small table near the corner. As she unwrapped her sandwich, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Y/N looked up to see Ningning standing there with a tray, her easygoing grin as disarming as ever.

“Do I have a choice?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” Ningning said cheerfully, sliding into the seat opposite her before Y/N could protest.

Y/N sighed but didn’t object. “Do you always invite yourself to people’s tables?”

“Only when the company is worth it,” Ningning replied, taking a sip of her iced coffee.

Despite herself, Y/N chuckled softly. Ningning’s confidence was relentless, but there was something about her energy that was hard to resist.

Over the next few weeks, the “coincidences” multiplied. Ningning appeared at the library while Y/N studied, waved to her across the quad, and once even “accidentally” ended up on the same bench as Y/N during a quiet moment by the campus fountain.

But sometimes, Ningning’s efforts weren’t subtle at all.

Y/N was midway through demonstrating her prototype at an engineering open house when she spotted Ningning at the back of the crowd. Dressed casually but effortlessly chic, Ningning stood out among the sea of students and faculty, her confident stance and bright expression impossible to miss.

Y/N’s hand faltered on her pointer, and she almost dropped it. Her heart raced as Ningning caught her eye, offering a small thumbs-up and a supportive smile.

Somehow, Y/N made it through the demonstration without completely losing her composure. As the crowd dispersed, she packed up her materials, only to find Ningning approaching her with that same infuriatingly charming grin.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Ningning said, her admiration evident.

Y/N sighed, trying to hide her flustered state. “What are you doing here, Ning?”

“Supporting a friend,” Ningning replied, her tone playful but her gaze sincere.

“We’re not friends,” Y/N said, though the conviction in her voice was notably weak.

“Not yet,” Ningning shot back, her persistence unwavering.

Y/N shook her head, unsure whether to feel annoyed or flattered. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when I see something worth chasing,” Ningning replied, her smile softening.

The words lingered between them, and for a moment, Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond. There was something undeniably genuine in the way Ningning looked at her, like she wasn’t just chasing a thrill, but something deeper.

But the thought only made Y/N’s guard go up. She wasn’t about to be another name on Ningning’s list, no matter how charming the girl was.

Still, as Ningning waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that strange, persistent flutter in her chest.

As the days went on, Y/N found herself reluctantly softening. It was hard to remain indifferent in the face of Ningning’s unwavering attention. She wasn’t just charming, she was thoughtful in a way Y/N hadn’t expected, always finding small ways to brighten her day.

One rainy afternoon, Y/N was hunched over her laptop in the library, attempting to meet a looming project deadline. She barely noticed the pattering of the rain against the windows until a familiar figure slid into the chair across from her.

“Do you ever take a break?” Ningning asked, setting down a steaming cup of coffee in front of Y/N.

Y/N looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t overwork yourself,” Ningning said simply, flashing a grin as she pushed the cup closer. “Black, just how you like it. And don’t tell me you’re too busy to drink it.”

Y/N hesitated but wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. “Thanks,” she said softly, her defenses cracking just a little more.

Moments like these became routine. A text to check in, a random gift of coffee, a casual conversation that managed to feel disarmingly intimate. Ningning had a way of slipping past Y/N’s walls without forcing her way in.

One day, Ningning invited her to a quiet café just off campus. “I’ll buy,” she offered, waving a hand at the menu.

Y/N hesitated. “You don’t have to keep buying me coffee, you know.”

“But I like spoiling you,” Ningning replied with a wink.

Y/N sighed but eventually agreed, telling herself it was just coffee.

The café was warm and inviting, its walls lined with mismatched bookshelves and vintage posters. They found a table by the window, and as they settled in, the conversation flowed with surprising ease.

Over steaming mugs, Ningning opened up about her love of music. She shared stories of late nights spent writing lyrics, the thrill of performing on stage, and the bittersweet moments of fame.

“It’s like chasing a high,” Ningning said, her voice softer than usual as she traced the rim of her mug with her fingertip. “Every time I finish a song or get on stage, it feels like nothing else matters. But sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever find something that lasts.”

The vulnerability in her words caught Y/N off guard. For a moment, the infamous heartbreaker seemed achingly human.

Y/N tilted her head, studying Ningning’s expression. “Why do you think that?”

Ningning smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe because nothing ever has. It’s always temporary, people, places, even feelings. Like they’re just waiting to fade.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She wanted to ask more, to probe deeper into the guarded part of Ningning’s heart, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she offered her own honesty.

“What about you?” Ningning asked, her gaze steady. “What do you want out of all this? School, life, everything?”

Y/N paused, caught off guard by the question. “I guess... I just want to create something meaningful,” she admitted. “Something that makes a difference.”

Ningning’s eyes softened, and for once, her smile wasn’t teasing. “I think you will,” she said simply, and the sincerity in her voice left Y/N momentarily speechless.

Despite her better judgment, Y/N began to let her guard down. Ningning’s presence became a constant. A text in the morning, a casual greeting between classes, an unexpected but welcome companion during study sessions.

Y/N started to look forward to their encounters, even if she wouldn’t admit it aloud. Ningning had a way of making her laugh, of drawing her out of her shell with effortless charm. But even as Y/N grew to appreciate Ningning’s wit, humor, and surprising depth, a part of her remained cautious.

The stories lingered in the back of her mind, a whispered warning she couldn’t quite ignore. She’d heard them all. The trail of broken hearts, the fleeting connections, the people left wondering if they’d ever really known Ningning at all.

One evening, as Y/N lay in bed scrolling through her phone, a message lit up her screen.

You’re still awake, right?

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. What makes you think that? she typed back.

You’re too much of a workaholic to sleep early.

Y/N laughed softly to herself, shaking her head. Guilty.

Good. Meet me tomorrow after class?

Y/N hesitated. She’d avoided labeling whatever was happening between them, but Ningning’s persistence was wearing down her defenses.

Okay, she finally replied.

The next day, Ningning greeted her outside the lecture hall with her signature grin and a coffee in hand, black, just the way Y/N liked it.

“See?” Ningning said, handing it over. “I’m learning.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like it,” Ningning shot back, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head, but her smile lingered. “Maybe a little.”

Their conversation meandered as they walked across campus together. Ningning pointed out little details Y/N had never noticed before, a graffiti heart etched onto a lamppost, the way the sunlight hit the clock tower just right at this time of day.

“You look like you’re always in your head,” Ningning said at one point, glancing at her. “I like pulling you out of it.”

Y/N paused, caught off guard by the comment. “Why?”

“Because I think there’s more to you than you let people see,” Ningning replied, her voice unusually soft. “And I want to know all of it.”

The words left Y/N speechless, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t fully understand. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she settled for a simple, quiet, “Maybe someday.”

Ningning’s smile widened, but she didn’t push further. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel tangled in Ningning’s orbit. The girl was a paradox. Effortlessly confident yet disarmingly vulnerable, playful one moment and achingly sincere the next. Y/N found herself watching for Ningning in places she hadn’t before, her presence sparking a warmth that was hard to ignore.

Still, the uncertainty lingered. Late at night, when the world was still and her thoughts had nowhere to hide, Y/N’s doubts crept in. She’d heard the stories, the whispers of people who had been swept up in Ningning’s charm, only to be left wondering if they’d ever meant anything at all.

Was she just another chapter in the same story? A fleeting thrill for someone who never stayed?

The question weighed heavy, but Ningning’s pull was undeniable. Every smile, every shared laugh, every fleeting touch sent a quiet hum through Y/N’s chest.

And no matter how cautious she tried to be, a small, stubborn hope flickered inside her. Maybe, just maybe, this time was different.

Over the next few weeks, Ningning’s presence shifted from surprising to familiar, her gestures taking on a quiet intimacy that Y/N couldn’t ignore.

One afternoon, Ningning showed up outside Y/N’s lecture hall with a guitar slung over her shoulder. Y/N frowned as she approached, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“What’s with the guitar?” Y/N asked, falling into step beside her.

“You’ll see,” Ningning said cryptically, leading her toward the quad. They stopped under a large oak tree, the branches casting dappled shadows over the grass. Ningning sat down and patted the spot beside her.

Curious, Y/N followed, tucking her legs beneath her. Ningning adjusted the guitar on her lap and strummed a few chords, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

“I wrote something for you,” Ningning said, glancing at Y/N with a small, almost shy smile.

“For me?” Y/N’s voice wavered, caught between disbelief and something deeper she didn’t want to name yet.

“Of course,” Ningning replied, her gaze steady. “You’re my muse.”

Before Y/N could process the words, Ningning began to play. The melody was soft and tender, her voice weaving through the notes like a thread of silk. The lyrics spoke of discovery and quiet moments, of finding something real and unexpected in a world that often felt fleeting.

By the time Ningning finished, Y/N’s chest felt impossibly tight. She blinked, suddenly aware of the tears threatening to spill.

“What did you think?” Ningning asked, her tone casual, though her eyes searched Y/N’s face for a reaction.

“It was...” Y/N paused, swallowing hard. “Beautiful.”

“Good.” Ningning grinned, setting the guitar aside. “That’s what I was going for.”

The song was just one of many gestures that left Y/N feeling both flustered and deeply touched. Ningning had a way of making her feel seen, of finding little ways to show she cared.

One evening, Ningning led Y/N to a quiet spot on campus she claimed as her own—a secluded garden hidden behind the art building.

“I come here when I need to clear my head,” Ningning explained, guiding Y/N through the overgrown path.

The garden was small but enchanting, with wildflowers growing in vibrant clusters and fairy lights strung between the trees. A small bench sat beneath a willow tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N said, her voice soft.

“It is,” Ningning agreed, though her eyes were fixed on Y/N rather than the garden.

They spent hours there, talking about everything and nothing. Y/N found herself sharing pieces of her life she rarely offered to others—her dreams, her insecurities, the moments that had shaped her.

And slowly, without realizing it, Y/N’s guardedness began to melt away.

The shift in Y/N’s feelings was subtle at first, a flicker of warmth that spread through her chest whenever Ningning smiled. It wasn’t something Y/N could name or even admit to herself in the beginning. It was in the quiet moments. The way her heart skipped when she saw Ningning’s name light up her phone screen, the way her eyes instinctively sought her out in a crowded room.

But as the days passed, that flicker grew into something undeniable. The moments they shared, the laughter, the gentle teasing, Ningning had a way of drawing Y/N out of her shell without ever forcing it.

Y/N found herself looking forward to their time together. She’d scan the hallways for Ningning’s familiar figure, her heart leaping at every casual greeting or unexpected meeting. The thought of seeing Ningning became a quiet anchor in her day, something she never realized she needed.

It wasn’t just the grand gestures that moved her, it was the small, thoughtful moments that Ningning seemed to weave effortlessly into their growing connection. The way she always remembered how Y/N liked her coffee: black, no sugar, no cream. “Bitter, just like your soul,” Ningning had teased once, earning a reluctant laugh from Y/N.

The way Ningning noticed when Y/N was stressed, slipping in a joke or a funny story to lighten the mood. Like the time Y/N was buried in her project, her notes spread chaotically across a library table. Ningning had appeared out of nowhere, balancing two cups of coffee and a paper bag. “Emergency donuts,” she announced, plopping the bag in front of Y/N. “One bite, and all your worries disappear.”

“You’re impossible,” Y/N had muttered, but the fond smile on her lips betrayed her words.

And then there was the way Ningning looked at her, like she was the only person in the world who mattered. It was a gaze that lingered, warm and steady, making Y/N feel seen in a way she hadn’t in years.

Her guarded heart began to soften. The walls she’d spent so long building felt less like protection and more like barriers she was ready to let go of.

But with that openness came vulnerability. At night, when the campus was quiet and her thoughts refused to settle, Y/N often found herself turning over every moment in her mind. What was it about Ningning that made her feel this way? Was it safe to trust her? Was she just another fleeting conquest for the girl whose reputation preceded her?

And yet, despite her fears, Y/N couldn’t deny the pull. She began to crave Ningning’s company, her laughter, her presence.

One evening, as they walked back from another impromptu coffee run, Ningning nudged Y/N’s shoulder playfully. “You’re always so serious,” she said with a grin. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Y/N hesitated, her thoughts a swirling mix of affection and uncertainty. She glanced at Ningning, her heart clenching at the way the streetlights illuminated her face, softening her sharp edges.

“I guess I’m just... thinking,” Y/N replied, her voice quiet.

“About what?” Ningning asked, her tone light but her gaze steady.

Y/N shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You ask too many questions.”

“Only when I care about the answers,” Ningning said, her voice softening.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away.

And one night, under a sky full of stars, Y/N couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

Ningning had insisted on taking Y/N to the rooftop of the performing arts building, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she practically dragged Y/N along.

“It’s the best view on campus,” Ningning said, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

As they reached the base of a narrow metal ladder leading to the roof, Y/N hesitated. “This is definitely not an authorized spot,” she said, crossing her arms.

“It’s a little risky,” Ningning admitted, flashing a mischievous grin. “But isn’t that what makes it fun? Come on, I’ve got you.”

Y/N sighed but followed Ningning up the ladder, her heart pounding, not from fear of heights, but from the fact that Ningning’s hand hovered close to hers, ready to catch her if she slipped. When they reached the top, Ningning helped her step onto the flat expanse of the rooftop.

Y/N gasped. The rooftop offered an unobstructed view of the entire campus, the lights of the buildings below twinkling like stars against the dark expanse of the night. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves and the distant hum of life below.

“This is incredible,” Y/N said, her voice filled with wonder. She walked to the edge, feeling the world open up around her.

“I told you,” Ningning replied, watching her with a satisfied smile as she spread out a thick blanket she’d brought along. She plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. “Come on, the show’s up there.”

Y/N joined her, sitting cross-legged as her eyes turned to the sky. The stars stretched endlessly above them, their light crisp and steady against the deep velvet of the night.

For a while, they simply sat there, the quiet hum of the night wrapping around them like a cocoon. Ningning pointed out constellations, her voice soft and unhurried. “See that one?” she said, gesturing with her finger. “That’s Cassiopeia. And over there—Orion’s Belt.”

Y/N tilted her head, trying to follow Ningning’s gestures. “I never really learned constellations,” she admitted.

“Then I’ll teach you,” Ningning said, her tone teasing but fond.

As Ningning explained, their conversation drifted, flowing seamlessly from constellations to childhood memories to silly campus stories. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, her usual guardedness slipping away under the stars.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, the laughter faded, leaving a warm silence in its wake. Ningning turned to look at Y/N, her eyes reflecting the faint light of the stars.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Ningning said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s breath caught. The words were so simple, yet they felt like they carried the weight of something far greater. “Ning...”

Ningning leaned closer, her movements slow and deliberate, as if giving Y/N every chance to pull away. But Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Their lips met softly, tentatively at first, as though testing the waters. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of Ningning’s touch and the steady hum of the night around them.

When they pulled back, Ningning rested her forehead against Y/N’s, her lips curving into a small, tender smile.

“Ning,” Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ningning turned her head to look at her, her expression soft and expectant. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers curling into the fabric of the blanket beneath her. She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Y/N’s breath caught as she waited for Ningning’s reaction. She felt the weight of the moment, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Ningning could hear it.

For a moment, Ningning didn’t say anything. Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. Then, a small, almost bittersweet smile curved her lips.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Ningning said finally, her voice warm but tinged with something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the response, a quiet ache settling over her. She wanted to ask what Ningning meant, to press for something more, but the vulnerability of the moment left her frozen.

Instead, she nodded, offering a small, tentative smile in return. “Thanks.”

Ningning’s gaze lingered on her, searching her face as though she wanted to say more but chose not to. Finally, she lay back down, her eyes returning to the stars.

They sat in silence after that, the stars above them casting a gentle glow over the rooftop. Y/N leaned back on her hands, her heart heavy yet strangely light. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of something more, even if it was fragile, even if it was fleeting.

The days that followed felt like a dream. Ningning’s texts came in as bright and warm as ever, and their stolen moments on campus carried the same spark that had first drawn Y/N to her. But something lingered in the corners of Y/N’s mind—a faint echo of uncertainty, of the bittersweet smile Ningning had given her that night.

At first, she dismissed it, telling herself she was overthinking. She threw herself into their time together, savoring the way Ningning seemed to light up her world. But as the days turned into weeks, that faint echo grew louder, a nagging doubt she couldn’t quite silence.

And then, almost imperceptibly, things began to shift.

The change was subtle at first. A missed text here, a rescheduled coffee date there. Y/N brushed it off as coincidence, after all, everyone got busy sometimes. But as the days turned into a week, and then another, Ningning’s absence became harder to ignore.

“Sorry, can’t make it today,” Ningning’s message read, the fifth time she’d canceled on Y/N in the past two weeks. Next time, I promise.

Y/N stared at her phone, her stomach twisting. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment, the excitement she’d felt earlier that morning now a dull ache.

Ningning had always been vibrant and full of energy, but lately, her texts felt clipped, her smiles less frequent. Even when they did manage to meet, there was a distance in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.

At first, Y/N tried to rationalize it. Maybe Ningning was just overwhelmed with school or her music. Maybe she needed space. But even as Y/N told herself those things, her mind kept drifting back to the kiss.

It had been soft and tentative, yet it lingered in Y/N’s thoughts like a ghost, the warmth of Ningning’s lips pressed against hers. She could still feel the way Ningning had rested her forehead against hers, the whispered words that had felt so impossibly sincere in the moment.

The weight of uncertainty grew unbearable, pressing down on her like a heavy fog. Y/N found herself replaying their moments together, searching for answers in the smallest details. Had she said something wrong? Was it the confession on the rooftop? She could still hear her own voice trembling as she admitted her feelings, the raw vulnerability of the moment leaving her exposed.

Ningning’s response echoed in her mind like a broken record, not rejection, but not acceptance, either. The bittersweet smile, the way she’d deflected with a compliment instead of reciprocating... Had that been the beginning of the end?

Late at night, Y/N would lie awake, staring at the ceiling as her phone sat on the pillow beside her. She’d scroll through their old texts, rereading conversations that once made her heart race. There were photos, too, moments frozen in time. Ningning grinning with her guitar, Y/N laughing mid-sip of coffee, the two of them sitting side by side on the bench in the hidden garden.

Each image brought a pang of longing, followed by a sharp twist of pain. How had Ningning gone from being her source of light to feeling like a shadow slipping further and further away?

One evening, as Y/N sat in her dorm room, her laptop open but untouched, Chaewon leaned against the bedframe, watching her with concern. “You’ve been like this for days,” Chaewon said, crossing her arms.

Y/N didn’t look up. She was fidgeting with the edge of her blanket, her fingers twisting the fabric into knots. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Chaewon replied, her tone gentle but firm. “What’s going on with Ningning? Have you talked to her about it?”

Y/N sighed, her chest tightening as she pulled the blanket closer. “I don’t even know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if... what if she’s over it? Over me?”

Chaewon’s expression softened. “Y/N...”

Yunjin, who had been sprawled on the floor with her headphones around her neck, chimed in, her voice unusually gentle. “Then you deserve to know. Sitting here torturing yourself isn’t going to help.”

Y/N finally looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What if I ruin everything?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Ruin what?” Yunjin asked, sitting up and leaning forward. “She’s already pulling away. If you don’t say anything, you’re just going to keep feeling like this. And honestly? That’s worse than knowing the truth.”

Chaewon nodded in agreement. “You’ve been overthinking this for days. The only way to figure out what’s going on is to ask her.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, her chest aching with the weight of their words. Deep down, she knew they were right. But the thought of confronting Ningning, of putting her heart on the line again, filled her with dread.

“What if she doesn’t care?” Y/N asked, her voice barely audible.

Chaewon reached over, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Then you’ll know, and you can start moving on. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Y/N.”

The room fell silent, the weight of their words settling over her. Y/N stared down at her lap, her thoughts racing. Confronting Ningning felt like stepping off a cliff, the fear of falling overwhelming.

But the alternative, this endless uncertainty, was unbearable.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N said finally, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Good,” Yunjin said, a small, encouraging smile tugging at her lips. “And when you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

The opportunity came a few days later, when Ningning unexpectedly showed up outside the engineering building. Y/N had just finished her last lecture of the day and was packing up her bag when she spotted Ningning leaning casually against a nearby lamppost.

For a fleeting moment, Y/N’s heart skipped at the sight of her, her emotions caught between relief and longing. She couldn’t help but remember the rooftop, the way Ningning’s lips had met hers, soft and deliberate, as if the kiss had meant something to her too. But now, the usual warmth in Ningning’s expression, the playful spark that always seemed to light her eyes, was missing.

“Hey,” Ningning said as Y/N approached. Her tone was casual, almost detached, and it hit Y/N like a cold gust of wind.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. Her chest ached with the weight of unspoken fears. “What’s up?”

“I thought we could talk,” Ningning said, motioning toward a bench nearby.

Y/N hesitated, her stomach twisting into knots. The weight in Ningning’s voice made her chest feel heavy, but she nodded and followed.

They sat down, the bench cold beneath them, the late afternoon air thick with tension. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Y/N stared at her hands, her heart pounding. Finally, she forced herself to break the silence.

“Ning, is something wrong?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady. “You’ve been... distant.”

Ningning sighed, leaning back against the bench. Her gaze drifted toward the ground, her expression unreadable. “I’ve just been busy,” she said, her tone evasive. “You know how it is.”

“No,” Y/N said, her voice firmer now. She turned to face Ningning, her eyes searching for something, anything, in her expression that might make this make sense. The memory of the kiss burned in her mind, the way Ningning had held her gaze afterward, her soft smile that had felt like a promise. “I don’t. This isn’t like you. You’ve been canceling plans, avoiding me... Did I do something wrong?”

Ningning’s jaw tightened, and she looked away. The silence stretched, growing heavier with each passing second. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and strained. “It’s not about you, Y/N. I just... I don’t think I can give you what you want.”

Y/N frowned, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. “What does that even mean?” she asked, her tone sharper now.

Ningning stood abruptly, running a hand through her hair in a gesture that betrayed her own agitation. “It means you’re getting too attached!” she said, her voice rising slightly. “I didn’t sign up for this, Y/N. I’m not... I’m not looking for something serious.”

The words hung in the air, stark and unrelenting. Y/N’s breath caught, her chest tightening as the meaning sank in.

“You could have told me that from the start,” Y/N said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay composed. “Instead of making me feel like this meant something.” Her voice cracked on the last word, the memory of the rooftop twisting in her chest like a knife.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ningning said, her tone softer now but no less cutting. She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging as though the weight of the conversation was bearing down on her. “You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from Y/N’s lungs. She stared at Ningning, her vision blurring with the tears she refused to let fall. She thought of the rooftop again, the kiss, the way Ningning had looked at her, the tenderness that had felt so real.

“Wow,” Y/N said, her voice breaking as a bitter laugh escaped her. “I guess I was stupid for thinking you were different.”

Ningning’s expression faltered, a flicker of regret crossing her face. For a moment, it looked like she might say something, anything, to take the sting out of her words. But she didn’t.

The silence between them was deafening, the sound of distant footsteps and murmured conversations on campus fading into the background.

After what felt like an eternity, Ningning took a step back, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, though the words felt hollow, lacking the sincerity Y/N so desperately needed.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving Y/N sitting alone on the bench, her heart in pieces.

Y/N stared after her, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. The ache in her chest was overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. She replayed Ningning’s words over and over in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

She had let herself hope, had let herself believe in the possibility of something real. But now, all she could feel was the sharp sting of her own naivety.

Y/N sat there long after Ningning disappeared from view, the cool air biting at her skin. And when she finally rose to her feet, her legs shaky beneath her, she felt like a stranger to herself, an empty shell of the person Ningning had made her believe she could be.

That night, Y/N sat in her dorm room, staring blankly at the wall. The ache in her chest felt unbearable, like a weight she couldn’t escape.

Chaewon and Yunjin tried to comfort her, but their words barely registered. All Y/N could think about was the way Ningning had smiled at her, the way she had made her feel like the most important person in the world, only to tear it all away.

For days, Y/N went through the motions, a shadow of herself. The ache in her chest was constant, her thoughts circling the same unanswerable questions. She avoided crowded spaces and clung to the solitude of the library or her dorm room, trying to outrun the memories that haunted her.

But it was impossible to avoid Ningning completely. The whispers started small, fleeting remarks overheard between classes. By the next day, they had grown louder, until her name was everywhere again.

Ningning had released a new song, and by midday, it was all anyone could talk about.

The excitement was palpable. Groups of students huddled around phones, earbuds shared between friends as they leaned in to listen. The name Ningning was on everyone’s lips, and the whispers grew louder with each passing hour.

Y/N didn’t need to ask what all the fuss was about. The ripple of energy in the air, the knowing glances from her peers, and the snippets of lyrics she caught in passing were enough to tell her everything she needed to know.

“Have you heard it?” Yunjin asked as she leaned against Y/N’s desk that afternoon, her voice hesitant.

Y/N froze, her pen stilling mid-note. She didn’t look up. “No,” she said flatly, her fingers tightening around the pen until her knuckles turned white.

Yunjin shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Chaewon, who was perched cross-legged on Y/N’s bed. “It’s... good,” Yunjin ventured cautiously, as if trying to test the waters.

“I don’t care,” Y/N replied, sharper than she intended.

The words hung in the air for a moment, tense and unyielding. Chaewon cleared her throat. “It’s called Bored,” she said softly.

The name sent a jolt through Y/N, her stomach twisting into knots. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to stay calm, but the rush of emotions was almost too much to contain.

Chaewon glanced at Yunjin before speaking again. “It’s... everywhere,” she said carefully. “People are talking about it nonstop. I thought you’d want to—”

“I don’t,” Y/N interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Yunjin flinched slightly, while Chaewon’s expression softened with concern. Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples as guilt tugged at her chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I just... I can’t.”

Her friends exchanged a look but didn’t press further. “Okay,” Yunjin said, her voice quieter now. “We get it.”

They backed off, changing the subject to something mundane, but the damage was done. The seed had been planted, and as the hours dragged on, it grew roots, wrapping itself around Y/N’s thoughts and refusing to let go.

By the time evening settled in, the buzz on campus had faded into the background, leaving Y/N alone with the silence of her dorm room. She tried to study, burying herself in equations and diagrams, but her mind kept drifting back to Ningning.

What had she written? Were the lyrics inspired by their time together?

Y/N shook her head, frustration bubbling to the surface. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to think about Ningning, didn’t want to give her the power to hurt her again. But the more she tried to push it away, the stronger her curiosity became.

By midnight, she couldn’t resist any longer. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, headphones in hand, she stared at her phone. The screen glowed faintly in the dark, the song queued up and ready to play.

Her heart pounded as she hesitated, her finger hovering over the play button. What if this only made it worse? What if the lyrics confirmed everything she’d been afraid of?

She exhaled shakily, trying to steady herself. Then, with a deep breath, she pressed play.

The opening chords were slow and deliberate, the melody haunting. Ningning’s voice poured through the headphones, smooth and rich, carrying an edge of something unspoken.

I’m so pretty in your head, boy, yeah Picking flowers, put ’em right behind my ear

The first verse hit like a wave, crashing over Y/N with its familiar imagery. She could see it—Ningning’s playful smirk, the way she tucked a flower behind her ear during one of their walks across campus.

Eyes catch you daydreamin’ Look at the signs, love as advertised

The lyrics dragged Y/N back to the rooftop, to the moment when Ningning had leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper: “You’re beautiful, you know that?” The memory of the kiss rose unbidden, a bittersweet pang twisting in her chest.

Am I messing with you When falling for you, falling for you? But I'm not the one to keep

She could still feel it, the warmth of Ningning’s lips, the way the world had fallen away in those brief seconds. But now, under the weight of the song, that memory felt hollow, as if it had never truly belonged to her. Her chest tightened. The words echoed her own uncertainty during those weeks, when she’d questioned every touch, every glance, every word Ningning had spoken.

But then the chorus hit, the upbeat rhythm masking the sharpness of the words.

Takin’ up a good rush, don’t try to fight it Paradise on Venus in your eyes I always come in hardcore And love you ’til the day I’m bored

The weight of the lyrics settled over Y/N like a lead blanket. Her throat tightened, the meaning slicing through her defenses. The sweet gestures, the stolen moments, the vulnerability Ningning had coaxed from her, it all felt hollow now, reduced to a fleeting rush.

As the song continued, vivid memories flooded Y/N’s mind:

Ningning surprising her with coffee on a rainy afternoon. The garden hidden behind the art building, where Ningning had whispered secrets under the moonlight. The rooftop, the stars, her trembling confession.

And then the confrontation. The way Ningning had looked at her, the words she’d spoken “You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever.”

The music swelled, Ningning’s voice rising with it, each lyric cutting deeper than the last.

Turning your hellos into goodbyes I always come in hardcore Love ’til the end of the road, then I tend to get bored

Y/N felt the tears spilling over before she even realized she was crying. She clenched her fists, trying to push the emotions back down, but the song didn’t relent. It was raw and unapologetic, a mirror held up to the whirlwind of emotions Ningning had left behind.

By the time the final chorus faded into the soft hum of the outro, Y/N was trembling. The last line echoed in her ears, a whisper laced with finality:

Yeah, maybe it’s on me, I should’ve said it before But I tend to get bored.

Y/N pulled off her headphones, letting them fall onto the bed beside her. The room felt impossibly quiet, the absence of Ningning’s voice almost as unbearable as the song itself.

She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as tears streaked down her face. Her mind was a whirlwind of questions, doubts, and memories she couldn’t shake.

Had any of it been real? The chase, the laughter, the moments that had felt so genuine, had Ningning felt them too? Or had Y/N been just another fleeting “rush” for someone who never stayed?

The ache in her chest felt unbearable, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate Ningning. Not completely.

And as she lay there, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts, one question lingered above all the others:

If it was just a rush for her... why did it feel like so much more to me?

The ceiling blurred as tears filled her eyes again, her heart heavy with emotions she didn’t know how to name.

And somewhere in the silence, Y/N wondered if she’d ever have the courage to ask Ningning the questions that still haunted her.

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