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joelsrose · 1 month ago

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Dark Matter

i haven't written reed before but here we go! i hope yall enjoy xx

warnings: fingering, age gap? (reader is mid 20's), cheating (sorry sue), power-dynamic, semi-public

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You walked into the lab the same way you always did—quietly, carefully, your notebook hugged to your chest like a shield, pages dog-eared and smudged with graphite, filled with half-solved equations, theoretical scribbles, and tiny margin doodles of molecules and stars.

The click of your heeled boots echoed off the cold, polished floor, a sound that somehow felt too loud in the stillness of the room. The air inside was always a little too cold, like the whole space was suspended in a vacuum—untouched by the warmth of human hands—but you liked it that way. It made you feel sharp, focused. Like anything could happen here. Like everything already had.

It had been exactly seven days since you started your internship under Mr. Richards—or Reed, as he’d insisted you call him on the very first day, his tone polite but firm, eyes flickering to yours with something unreadable when you stammered out “Dr. Richards” instead. The man was brilliant. Obviously. He was also deeply intimidating in the way only truly intelligent people could be—effortlessly so, like he didn’t notice the way the rest of the world bent around his mind.

He wasn’t cruel, not at all, but there was something about him that made your pulse skip whenever he turned to you with a question, something about the way he spoke in low, thoughtful tones, his hands always busy with some piece of machinery or scribbling formulas on the glass board like his thoughts couldn’t be contained by paper.

You’d been selected from a pool of thousands—won the LUMINA International Science Initiative, a fellowship that granted a single spot, once a year, to shadow one of the world’s leading innovators.

You never expected to get it. You’d submitted your proposal last-minute, half-convinced it was too ambitious, too naive. But something about it must’ve caught their attention—maybe your hypothesis on temporal field distortions, maybe the way you phrased it like a love letter to curiosity itself. Either way, it landed you here, standing just inside the threshold of the Baxter Building’s most secured lab, wearing your best skirt and your favorite boots, heart thudding in your chest like a metronome gone mad.

You adjusted your grip on your notebook and cleared your throat softly, the sound swallowed by the lab’s cavernous quiet. “Morning,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant, eyes sweeping the room for him—half-hoping he wasn’t here yet, half-hoping he was.

From behind one of the massive monitors, you heard the gentle clink of metal, followed by a low voice.

“You’re early.”

You turned and there he was, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collarbone peeking where his lab coat had come undone. His hair was tousled, like he’d been up for hours already, running his hands through it between equations. There was graphite smudged on his wrist, and a faint streak of oil down one thumb, and somehow that made him look even more untouchable. He glanced over his shoulder at you, then down at your notebook.

“More scribbles?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting—not quite a smile, but close enough to make your chest flutter.

You nodded, holding it out. “A few questions from last night. I kept thinking about the energy dispersion curve in the 5-D field model, and—well. It didn’t make sense that it plateaued. Not at those values.”

He took the notebook, flipping through the pages like he was reading a novel written in his own handwriting, then looked up at you with a sliver of something warmer in his gaze.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I think you might be the first person to ever challenge that curve. Everyone else just accepted it.”

You blinked. “Oh. I—didn’t mean to be... disrespectful or anything.”

“You weren’t.” He looked back at the page, his brow furrowing like he was genuinely considering your notes. “You’re just... asking the right questions.”

And the way he said that—asking the right questions—it made your cheeks heat, made your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag like you were suddenly fifteen again, flustered and awkward and unsure of what to say next, even though you were here because you belonged here, even though you were brilliant in your own quiet way.

He glanced at you again, slower this time, eyes scanning your face like he was watching a theory unfold in real time, and said, “Let’s run it. See if you’re right.” Just like that, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean the world.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

Hours passed, though you barely noticed them. What started as a single equation quickly unraveled into an entire evening of hypotheses and recalibrations, the two of you moving around each other in this strange, quiet rhythm—typing, adjusting, scribbling, calculating, retrying, failing, fixing, retrying again.

The room had fallen into that kind of sacred stillness where every noise felt sharper—the whir of machines, the scratch of pencils, the occasional creak of the stool beneath you. Every time a result came back wrong, you’d lean in beside him and try again. Every time it came back right, your shoulders would touch, just barely, and you’d both say nothing.

And then it happened again—casual, effortless—Reed stretched.

This time, to grab his phone from across the room without moving from his chair, his arm extending impossibly far and elegant, fingers curling around the device with that same practiced ease, like it was just another part of his body responding to his mind. You watched it happen with that same quiet awe you always did, eyes following the length of his arm as it retracted, as he settled back into himself like it hadn’t been strange at all, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t even the stretch itself, not really—it was the nonchalance, the way he didn’t even think about it. But you did. You thought about it too much.

You were still thinking about it when he glanced at his screen, a quiet frown flickering across his face.

“It’s eight already,” he murmured, thumbing through a text. “We’ve been here all day.”

You blinked, surprised by the time, and then watched as his expression shifted—something soft and faintly guilty tugging at the edge of his mouth as he read whatever had been sent to him.

“Sue made dinner,” he said after a beat, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand like he hadn’t sat down for a proper meal in days. “Guess I should…”

He trailed off as he stood, the chair sliding back with a scrape, and something in your chest twisted—tight and unexpected. Not sharp enough to hurt, but deep enough to notice.

You weren’t sure if it was jealousy, exactly, but there was something inside you that ached a little at the thought of him leaving. At the thought of him sitting across from someone else, in a warm apartment somewhere above the city, eating food someone else had made for him, laughing over things that had nothing to do with lab results or radiation curves or the way your hands always trembled just slightly when he got too close.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he glanced back at you with one brow arched, curious, amused, his coat slung half over his arm and a faint smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Something wrong?” he asked, voice low and too steady, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it.

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly, the word tripping over itself on your tongue. “No, nothing.”

He looked at you for a long second, long enough that your skin prickled under the weight of it, his eyes steady and a little too knowing, like he could see past your flustered expression and straight into the chaos of your thoughts. Then—he chuckled, soft and brief, like the sound had slipped out before he could stop it, low and warm and close enough to make your pulse stutter.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, not in disapproval, but something more bemused—like he found you endlessly curious and had all the time in the world to figure you out.

You ducked your head, the heat rising in your cheeks again, blooming in a flush that you tried to suppress with a tight little smile, your fingers worrying the corner of your notebook as though it could ground you, steady you, hide the fact that your heart was now pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.

Then his voice came again, low and coaxing, that soft velvet drawl of someone deeply used to being the smartest man in the room—“Come on,” he said, “what’s going on in that brilliant mind?”

And you should’ve lied. You should’ve laughed it off, said something safe, something neutral, something clever and unassuming and appropriately scientific. But your brain had been wandering all week—had been drifting there over and over again, uninvited, unwelcome, inappropriate, gnawing at the edges of your curiosity in the quiet moments between experiments.

You’d tried not to think about it, tried not to let your gaze linger when he stretched, tried not to imagine what else could stretch, how far, how much, how deeply.

And somehow—somehow—it slipped out of your mouth before your brain had a chance to intercept it, just a whisper of a thought spoken aloud, soft and breathless and too curious to be innocent.

“Does everything stretch?”

The silence that followed was instant and absolute.

You heard it in the way the machines kept humming but your breath caught.

You felt it in the way Reed’s eyes snapped to yours, too quickly, like he wasn’t expecting that.

And you saw it—oh, you saw it—in the way he froze, the way the lines at the corners of his mouth shifted, lips parting slightly like he was about to speak but couldn’t quite remember how.

Your eyes widened almost immediately, your whole body locking in mortified horror, hands flying up to your face as if that could undo what you’d just said, as if that could pull the words back into your throat and shove them into the void where they belonged.

“Oh my God—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that, I swear—I swear, it was just—I was talking about your arm, I mean your body—not your—oh God, not your body body, I meant your abilities, like biologically—scientifically—I’m so sorry—”

You were rambling now, barely breathing between the words, voice growing higher and faster with every sentence, and he was still just looking at you, still absolutely silent, like you’d short-circuited him and he was trying not to let it show. His expression hadn’t changed much—but his eyes were different now, darker maybe, or maybe just sharper, like a wire had pulled taut somewhere beneath his usually-calm exterior.

Then—finally—he blinked.

And his mouth twitched.

Not a smirk. Not quite. But close. Very, very close.

“Everything?” he echoed softly, voice rough around the edges like it had dropped an octave without permission.

You wanted to melt through the floor.

“Forget I said anything,” you mumbled, practically squeaked, your hands halfway up your face now, notebook clutched uselessly against your chest like a shield made of paper and shame.

But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He just looked at you for another long moment, like he was tucking the question away in some private drawer of his mind, like he was considering it—you—carefully.

And then he said, his voice quiet and unreadable. “Some things stretch more than others.”

He said it with the same offhand ease he might’ve used to mention the weather or the results of an equation, as if the words weren’t heavy with meaning, as if they didn’t land like a struck tuning fork in the center of your chest and hum there, low and electric. And then—just like that—he glanced at the time again, slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his coat, his fingers moving with quiet efficiency, and looked toward the door without even a flicker of hesitation in his expression.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice smooth and calm, like it had all been nothing—your question, his answer, the unbearable silence that followed—like he hadn’t just reduced you to a trembling, wide-eyed mess with five words and a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

And then he turned and walked out, his footsteps steady and unhurried, as though the entire moment hadn’t happened, as though he hadn’t noticed the way your breath had caught or your lips had parted slightly or the way your fingers had curled around your notebook like you were holding onto it for dear life. The door eased shut behind him with a soft, final click, and the silence that followed felt far too loud, as if the air itself had been holding its breath and now didn’t know what to do with the tension left behind.

You stood there for a moment, completely still, eyes fixed on the door like he might come back—might say something, might clarify or laugh or admit that yes, that had been what you thought it was, that you weren’t imagining the way his gaze had sharpened, the subtle shift in his voice, the pause before he’d answered like he was trying to decide how honest he wanted to be.

But the door stayed shut. The lab was quiet. And your face was burning.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

The next morning, you thought about quitting.

No—worse—you thought about being removed, escorted out of the lab with quiet, professional shame, the faculty committee shaking their heads at the girl who couldn’t keep her thoughts scientific. You’d spent the entire night twisted in sheets and mortification, staring at the ceiling of your tiny dorm room with cheeks that wouldn’t stop burning and hands that kept curling into fists against your pillow, your mind looping the same sentence over and over like a taunt.

Does everything stretch?

It had sounded so much worse in hindsight. In your head, it was a purely biological question—curiosity, theoretical, relevant. But the moment it left your lips, soft and shy and tilted with unintended suggestion, you’d felt the way it landed. The way his eyes had flickered. The way his voice had dropped just a hair lower. The way he’d looked at you after.

And then he walked out like it was nothing.

Which somehow made it worse.

So when you walked into the lab that morning, notebook clutched to your chest like a shield, heart crawling up the back of your throat with every step, you were fully prepared for disaster—for tension, awkwardness, maybe even polite dismissal. But he was already there, of course he was—leaning over one of the central consoles with his sleeves rolled, hair still rumpled from sleep, lips pursed slightly in thought as he ran through some new readout, a mug half-full of black coffee resting near his elbow.

And when he glanced up at you?

Everything was... fine.

He offered you a brief, familiar nod, the same one he always did, and then gestured to a screen without so much as a hint of discomfort, as if the night before had been a dream, as if you hadn’t asked the most humiliating question of your life and then spiraled into a dimension of shame he probably discovered himself.

You blinked, stunned by the ease of it, by the way he moved through the morning without even a trace of tension, without a single flinch. It was—professional. Cordial. Kind.

And strangely, that grounded you.

The day unfolded slowly, then steadily—small victories, clarified hypotheses, new data sets—and your body slowly began to relax into the rhythm you’d started to love, the silent teamwork of minds that trusted each other. And even though he hadn’t said anything beyond the work, even though the stretch of time passed with nothing but research and updates, you caught yourself looking again—watching the way his hands moved, the way he’d lean into the screen, the way he thought so deeply with his whole body, and the way you were beginning to understand him in ways that had nothing to do with science.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, when the sun outside had dipped low enough to cast long gold shadows across the lab floor, that he finally spoke without referencing an equation.

“Sue was asking about you,” he said casually, eyes still on his screen, voice calm as if he didn’t know he’d just sent your stomach tumbling.

You blinked, startled. “Oh?”

He nodded once, the motion subtle. “Think I’ve been talking too much about how smart you are.”

Your breath caught in your throat and then returned all at once in a rush of heat to your face. You looked away, your lips parting slightly as your blush bloomed across your cheeks, creeping down your neck, the words lingering like sunlight on your skin.

“She wants to meet you,” he continued, finally glancing over at you with that steady, unreadable gaze that always made you feel a little exposed, a little unsteady.

“Really?” you asked, blinking up at him, your voice too soft, too unsure. “I—I mean, I’d be honored.”

He chuckled, quiet and amused, and God, it made your heart stutter.

“Tonight?” he asked, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Your lips parted again. “Tonight?” you echoed, because your brain was clearly still catching up.

He tilted his head, expression flickering with something close to amusement. “Unless you’re busy,” he said smoothly. “Or unless you were planning on camping out here all night again, trying to crack the wavefield inversion curve without sleeping or eating—because that does sound like you.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, the sound escaping like a sigh, soft and a little breathless, and he smiled—genuine and rare, the kind that made your knees feel unsteady and your chest warm.

You shook your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. “No,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not busy.”

“Good,” he said, his smile deepening just slightly. “I’ll see you for dinner then.”

And with that, he turned back to his screen, the moment slipping away like mist, but the warmth of it stayed, curling low and steady in your chest.

You were going to dinner. With Reed Richards. And Sue Storm.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

The Baxter Building stood tall and impossible in the heart of the city, its sleek, glinting frame catching the last of the golden evening light like it had been plucked from some distant future and set gently down in Manhattan.

The security in the lobby had let you through without question, as if they’d been expecting you, as if your name already belonged in the same breath as Reed Richards and Sue Storm, and that thought alone made your stomach twist with something between awe and panic as you stepped into the elevator.

It was silent inside—sterile and smooth, the walls a brushed metal that reflected the softest version of your silhouette back at you, almost dreamlike. You stared at your reflection for a moment, adjusting the bottle of wine you held with both hands, the paper bag crinkling slightly beneath your fingertips.

You’d picked it up on the way here after spending a full thirty minutes in the wine shop pretending to know what pairs with intellectual dinner parties hosted by superheroes. You smoothed the front of your dress—a soft, modest thing that you’d chosen carefully, something that felt like you, but maybe a little prettier, a little more delicate than usual, your lips painted just faintly, enough to make you feel like you were trying without looking like you were trying.

You exhaled slowly, barely noticing the way the elevator glided up without a sound, your heartbeat louder than anything around you. Your thoughts raced, of course they did—what if it was too much? What if you shouldn’t have come? What if he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, that subtle curve of his voice when he said see you at dinner, the glint in his eye, the way his attention had lingered for just a moment too long?

The elevator chimed softly.

The doors opened.

And then— There he was.

Reed stood just inside the threshold, one hand braced casually on the edge of the doorway, the other slipping his phone into his back pocket like he’d only just finished checking something, his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, collarbone peeking slightly where his top button had been left undone, no tie, no lab coat—just a simple, perfectly tailored shirt that made your brain stutter for half a beat.

His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it absentmindedly more than once, and there was a tiny streak of ink or maybe graphite on his knuckle that hadn’t been washed off completely.

It was Reed, but not the version of him you’d grown used to seeing in the lab, not the hyper-focused, brilliant blur of intellect you worked beside every day—this Reed looked like he’d been waiting. For you.

His eyes moved over you slowly—once, all the way down and back up again, not rushed, not obvious, but deliberate enough that you felt it everywhere, like heat pressing into the skin of your chest and the backs of your knees, your fingers tightening instinctively around the bottle you were holding.

He didn’t say anything at first, just quirked the corner of his mouth into something halfway between a smirk and a smile, soft but amused, his gaze still lingering just a little too long.

“You clean up well,” he said finally, voice lower than usual, not teasing exactly—more like he was confessing something he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Your mouth parted slightly, but your voice caught, and when you finally managed to speak, it came out soft and a little breathless. “I—brought wine.”

He glanced down at the bottle, then back at you, his smile deepening just enough to make your heart skip. “Dangerously overqualified,” he murmured, stepping back to let you in. “Smart and thoughtful. Sue’s going to love you.”

You stepped past him into the apartment, the warmth of the space wrapping around you instantly, the scent of dinner and city lights and him curling at the edge of your senses, and even as you tried to focus on your breathing, on your posture, on not tripping in your kitten heels, you could still feel the echo of his eyes on your skin, like he hadn’t really stopped looking.

The apartment unfolded around you like a page in some impossibly curated design magazine, only softer, warmer, more lived-in than anything artificial—clean, modern lines met rich textures, brushed steel softened by warm walnut floors and deep navy accents that glowed golden under the cascade of low, amber-hued lighting.

One entire wall was glass, and beyond it, the Manhattan skyline burned softly against the horizon, city lights just starting to glitter like distant stars, and even the air inside smelled expensive and comforting—like slow-cooked herbs and something faintly sweet.

You were still catching your breath, still clutching the wine like a lifeline, when you heard a voice float in from down the hall—clear, warm, and unmistakably female.

“There she is.”

Sue Storm walked into view like she had been sculpted from light itself—tall and impossibly graceful, wrapped in soft neutral fabrics that draped just right, her golden hair falling in loose waves that framed her face perfectly, her eyes a crystalline blue that held a kind of sharpness you immediately respected.

She was breathtaking, in that way women are when they know who they are, and the moment she looked at you, her whole expression softened with something kind and curious and real.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said with a small smile, her voice smooth like honey stirred into tea, her gaze never once breaking from yours.

“Hi,” you breathed, the word escaping before you could shape it into anything more eloquent. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

She waved you off with a flick of her manicured fingers, as if the formality embarrassed her. “Please,” she said with a light laugh, stepping closer. “The way my husband talks about you? I’m the one who’s honored.”

And you blushed so hard you felt it in your ears, your whole body warming beneath the soft light, fingers tightening just slightly around the neck of the bottle as you dipped your head in modest disbelief, not quite sure if you should laugh or hide.

Reed, who had stepped away to adjust the music or maybe just give you a moment, said nothing, but you felt the weight of his glance again—the quiet satisfaction in the corners of his mouth like this was exactly what he wanted: you here, now, nervous but luminous, admired and welcomed.

“Come in,” Sue insisted gently, her hand brushing your arm in a way that grounded you immediately. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made way too much food—he said you don’t eat much, but I never trust him when he says that. He’s never once finished a plate himself.”

You smiled, heart still beating a little too fast, and followed her deeper into the space, the sound of your shoes soft against the hardwood, the city glowing quietly beyond the windows as if watching you take your first steps into something bigger than an internship—something warmer, more dangerous, and far more personal.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

Dinner was lovely—elegant but warm, the kind of meal that felt intimate without trying, served at a long polished table that glowed honey-gold under the overhead lights, the city sparkling just beyond the glass like a living mural.

You sat across from them, Reed to your left, Sue across from you, and despite the tight coil of nerves you’d carried into the evening, it was… comfortable.

Sue had a way of making you feel like you belonged, like you weren’t just a guest in the home of two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, but someone worth sitting at their table, someone they genuinely wanted to know.

You found yourself watching them more than you meant to—Sue leaning toward him with quiet laughter, Reed murmuring something back without looking up from his wine glass, the two of them moving in the kind of rhythm that only came from years of intimacy and quiet understanding. And still, as you watched them, something bloomed low and warm in your stomach—not jealousy, exactly, but a kind of quiet ache, a fascination that hummed beneath your skin, a longing that had less to do with their relationship and more to do with him.

You were still chasing the thread of that thought when Sue turned to you again, eyes bright with interest.

“So,” she said, “how did you get interested in all of this?”

You blinked, startled out of your reverie, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a shy smile. “Well,” you began softly, glancing down at your plate before meeting her gaze again, “ever since I was a kid, I just… I always wanted to understand how the world worked. The math, the movement, the rules. I remember watching the stars and thinking—that’s what I want to learn. That’s what I want to be part of.”

Sue offered you a warm smile, nodding in that gentle, encouraging way that made you feel like your words mattered, like they weren’t small or naïve or too eager. “Well,” she said, “it’s always nice seeing young people interested in this kind of work—especially a fellow…” she paused, grinning as she reached for her glass, “…girl genius.”

You laughed softly, cheeks warm, about to reply with something awkward and grateful and probably too modest—when it happened.

You felt it.

Unmistakable.

A hand. Large, warm, and undeniably real, sliding gently across your thigh under the table.

Your heart stopped. Your breath caught somewhere high in your chest, your eyes flickering toward Reed so quickly you barely caught Sue sipping her wine across from you. But he didn’t look at you—not exactly. His gaze remained calm and forward, his profile composed and entirely unreadable as he took a slow sip of his wine and then glanced up at Sue, his hand still resting firmly on your leg.

“She’s brilliant,” he said casually, his voice smooth and even, like he was commenting on the weather, like he wasn’t currently touching you from across the table while sitting next to his wife.

You sat frozen, pulse thundering in your ears, body rigid but electrified, your fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem of your glass as you tried to focus, to breathe, to not move.

“She corrected me the other day about a flux equation I wrote in ’04,” he continued, eyes finally drifting to meet yours—and holding there, steady and direct, a silent dare written behind his calm expression. “She was right, too.”

Sue laughed, clearly delighted. “Good. God knows someone needs to keep you in check.”

You could barely hear her. Could barely focus on anything except the heat of Reed’s hand, the way it pressed gently into the top of your thigh, just enough to let you know it was real, just enough to make your stomach twist with something hot and shivery and shamefully thrilling.

And then—his hand moved.

Not in that subtle, polite way you might’ve been able to ignore or convince yourself had been some kind of misunderstanding, not a graze or a twitch or something incidental—but deliberate, slow, intentional, his palm sliding higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress in a single fluid motion that felt so impossibly confident it made your entire body lock up at once.

The heat of his skin against your thigh stole the breath from your lungs, and when his fingers skimmed the delicate edge of your underwear, just barely brushing the fabric, you felt your heart climb straight into your throat and stay there.

You almost choked on your wine.

The glass halted halfway to your lips, your hands trembling just enough for the crystal to click against your teeth, and you let out a strange, stifled sound—half gasp, half cough—your eyes wide, your posture going ramrod straight as you struggled to swallow the panic and arousal crawling up your spine in tandem.

“You alright?” Sue asked gently, glancing up from her plate with concern etched between her brows, the picture of warmth and kindness and everything undeserving of what was happening beneath her dinner table.

“Yes,” you stammered, too quickly, the syllable snapping out of your mouth like it had been fired from a slingshot, your cheeks flushed a deep, telltale red as you nodded a little too hard. “I’m fine. Just—went down the wrong way.”

Across from you, Reed glanced up from his glass at the sound of your voice, his expression calm—no, worse than calm—amused, like he was enjoying watching you fall apart in real time, like he was studying the way you squirmed and flushed and fidgeted with quiet, academic satisfaction. His fingers moved—barely a shift, just enough to press the pad of his thumb along the inside of your thigh, skimming the thin lace of your panties with a featherlight drag that made your vision blur for a moment, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to stop a sound from escaping.

Sue kept talking, mercifully, unaware of the silent war happening beneath the table, and you tried to nod along, tried to pretend you were still following the story she was telling about something at the foundation gala last week, but Reed’s hand was still moving—so slowly, so wickedly gentle, fingers drifting along the edge of the fabric like he was memorizing it, teasing it, learning every soft line of you with nothing more than a ghost of touch and that insufferable, unreadable look in his eyes.

You were blushing so fiercely now you were sure it had reached your chest, heat blooming down your neck like a fever, your knees squeezing together reflexively beneath the table as your breathing turned shallow, chest rising and falling in a way that did not feel casual anymore.

“Are you hot, honey?” Sue asked suddenly, concern returning to her voice, her eyes flickering to your cheeks. “A house full of so-called geniuses and we still haven’t figured out how to fix the aircon properly. I’ll be back—I’ll check the thermostat.”

And before you could answer—before you could find any response at all—she stood, placing her napkin neatly beside her plate and disappearing down the hall with a rustle of fabric and the click of her heels.

The door hadn’t even shut all the way before Reed finally spoke, low and calm and just for you, his fingers still resting against the soft, soaked curve of you beneath your panties.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, voice a dark, honey-dipped whisper that sent shivers straight through your bones. “Don’t stop now.”

“Reed—” you stammered, your voice cracking under the strain of your own name trembling on your lips, barely more than a whisper, a breath caught halfway between panic and disbelief, your thighs squeezing together out of instinct, out of desperation, out of need you didn’t yet know how to name. “What are you—”

He didn’t lean in.

He didn’t move closer.

He didn’t even blink.

He simply sat there, on the opposite side of the table, one elbow resting near his wine glass, the other arm subtly stretched beneath the surface like a quiet secret unraveling in the dark, and his voice, when it came, was soft and low and steady.

“Tell me to stop.”

And as he said it—calm, impossible, infuriatingly composed—you felt it: the cool air against your skin, your panties slipping down your thighs with a slow, torturous grace, peeled away by a hand that wasn’t even near you, stretched from across the table, precise and gentle and unspeakably brazen. The fabric caught just slightly at your knees before his fingers nudged it past, and you sat there frozen, wide-eyed, red-faced, with your dress pooled neatly over your lap and nothing beneath it now but heat and humiliation and the thundering pulse between your legs.

“Reed—” you breathed again, barely able to shape the word, and his gaze met yours in that maddening, quiet way—no urgency, no shame, only that still, measured calm that made your insides tremble, as if he was watching a reaction unfold under glass.

And then—

Sue's heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she entered the room again, moving with that effortless, elegant grace as she crossed behind you and returned to her seat.

“That should fix it,” she said lightly as she sat, her smile warm and unbothered, her tone casual as if nothing had changed in the few moments she’d been gone.

You turned toward her, your face flaming, your smile shaky and paper-thin as you tried to find your voice again, tried to stitch together whatever pieces of yourself hadn’t yet dissolved under Reed’s hand, which now rested high on your bare thigh like it belonged there.

“Thank you,” you managed softly, the words nearly catching on the breath that refused to sit still in your chest, and somehow, impossibly, you held her gaze.

And across from you, Reed Richards—calm, brilliant, monstrous in his control—simply took another sip of wine.

You tried to focus, truly you did—on Sue, on her words, on the soft clinking of silverware and the gentle thrum of jazz somewhere in the background—but all of it became nothing more than a blur of light and noise the moment his fingers moved again, slow and purposeful, the stretch of his arm impossibly seamless beneath the table, as if he could command every tendon, every muscle, with surgical precision.

He didn’t even shift in his seat, didn’t look down, didn’t so much as twitch, and yet—you felt him, truly felt him now, his fingers slipping between your thighs with exquisite control, brushing over your bare, trembling core with a deliberate slowness that made you forget how to hold your breath steady.

And then—he pushed.

Just one finger at first, and it was too much, because it was him, because it was stretched impossibly long and thick, curling up with inhuman ease, reaching deeper than anyone had ever dared, pressing into you like he already knew exactly where to go, what you needed, like he’d studied your anatomy and had all the answers memorized.

Your thighs tightened automatically, knees trembling under the weight of holding in a sound you very nearly let out, and your hands clenched into your lap, the wine glass beside you forgotten, your whole body alight with the unbearable tension of being touched like this—open, pulsing, absolutely undone—and doing nothing about it.

And then—

“Why don’t you explain to Sue what we went over the other day,” Reed said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just buried his finger inside you under the dinner table, as if he wasn’t slowly crooking it up to find that sweet, aching spot that made your stomach twist and your eyes nearly flutter shut.

You froze.

“What?” you whispered, blinking at him.

He offered a slight tilt of his head, his eyes resting on yours with a look of calm expectation—amusement, even—and then shifted his gaze to Sue, who was looking at you with the kindest, most open smile, entirely oblivious.

“The resonance collapse formula,” Reed said helpfully, voice steady. “She corrected one of my assumptions about it earlier this week. She’s sharper than she lets on.”

He curled his finger again.

And it took everything in you not to cry out.

You blinked rapidly, your lips parting around a breath that wasn’t quite a word, trying to remember the theory, the math, the basic principles of language, but all you could feel was the stretch inside you, the thick, gentle press of him moving in slow, unrelenting circles, coaxing you open without haste, without apology, without shame.

“I—” you started, your voice embarrassingly thin, “we—uh, we talked about—about the resonance curve failing at the threshold of—”

He added a second finger.

Your breath caught so hard you coughed, the burn of it tight in your chest, and you reached for your water like it might ground you, like the coolness of the glass could balance out the unbearable heat pulsing between your legs.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Sue asked again, concerned.

You forced a smile, shaking your head quickly, eyes wet with the effort to look normal, to act normal, when Reed’s fingers were pushing deeper now, stretching you in a way that was obscene, careful, perfect, and somehow managing to keep the rhythm slow and steady, barely moving, just enough to make you drip helplessly onto his knuckles under the table while you tried to describe a physics principle with your body unraveling second by second.

“I’m okay,” you managed to whisper, voice too soft, too high.

Reed’s thumb brushed upward. You jolted. He smiled—just slightly.

“You were saying?” he asked gently.

You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or crawl under the table and never come out.

Instead, you looked up, cheeks flushed, throat tight, and murmured, “We adjusted the decay rate curve based on the harmonic threshold failing beyond point-six-three, and—and recalibrated the control conditions to reflect a more dynamic waveform—”

His fingers pressed up, deep, and you gasped—but you made it sound like awe, like wonder.

Sue beamed at you. “That’s amazing.”

You blinked, barely nodding, and Reed—still untouched himself, still seated like a man entirely at ease—just gave you the faintest smile across the table, like he was proud of you. Like you had passed some unspeakable test.

You weren’t sure when it changed—when Reed’s fingers, once so slow and exploratory, shifted their rhythm, no longer teasing but deliberate, their movement suddenly quickening beneath the tablecloth, each stroke firmer, deeper, more precise, curling up into that one devastating place inside you with the kind of methodical expertise that only a man like him could possess.

His thumb pressed again and again against your swollen clit in quiet, unrelenting circles, and it was obscene, unbelievably obscene, because he was still sitting across from you, back straight, shoulders calm, expression thoughtful and polite as Sue continued her story—talking about an ambassador, or a charity gala, or maybe a speech she gave—and you couldn’t hear a single word of it.

Because you were about to come.

Right there. At their dinner table.

Your thighs were trembling beneath the fabric of your dress, your body pulled taut like a string about to snap, nerves alight and burning in every limb, and you could feel it rising, fast and hot, building in your belly like a storm, spreading up through your spine with every practiced motion of his hand—stretched from across the table, long and dexterous and hidden beneath the soft, quiet clink of silverware.

You were soaked, dripping, pulsing around his fingers, and he knew. Of course he knew. He could feel every flutter, every desperate little squeeze your body gave him, and when he looked at you—really looked at you—his eyes burned with a satisfaction so soft it felt like praise.

You tried to hold it back. God, you tried. Your nails dug into the fabric of your skirt, your breathing shallow and uneven, your lashes fluttering as you ducked your head and bit into the back of your hand, trying to hide the sound, trying to bury the moan that threatened to rip itself from your throat. You were right on the edge, hovering there, helpless, when—

DING!

The sound of the oven’s timer rang out sharply through the kitchen, perfectly, cruelly timed—at the exact second you broke apart, your body shuddering around his fingers as the climax hit you so hard and fast you saw stars behind your eyes. You muffled the moan with your hand, trembling violently in your chair as you faked a cough so sharp it made Sue look up, concerned, just as she was standing to go check the dessert.

“Poor thing,” she said sweetly, already halfway out of the room, completely unaware of what had just happened right beneath her nose. “Let me go grab the cobbler—Reed, didn’t I tell you to turn on the vent fan for the oven? It smells like caramelized sugar in here.”

You barely managed to nod, your breath still stuttering in your chest, the taste of your own bitten-down moan lingering in your mouth like smoke, your vision wet and dizzy as you tried to collect yourself—but it was impossible, completely impossible, because Reed was still watching you, still calm, still composed, still seated like nothing had happened at all, as though his fingers hadn’t just coaxed your orgasm from you with the kind of precision that only a man with endless patience and supernatural reach could possess.

And then—he moved.

His hand, the one he had just pulled back from beneath your dress, rose slowly from beneath the table, casual, unhurried, and with the sort of smooth detachment that made your blood run hot all over again. You watched—helpless, horrified, entranced—as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his expression unreadable but his gaze never leaving yours, and then—

He licked them.

Just the tips. Just a quiet, deliberate motion—his tongue flicking out to drag across the pads of his fingers with unbearable slowness, like a man tasting something rare and sacred, like someone who savored knowledge, savored reactions, savored you—and your breath caught so hard it made your throat ache, your hands clenched in your lap, body still trembling beneath the table.

And that was the exact moment Sue walked back in.

The tray in her hands held a golden, bubbling dish still steaming at the edges, a pitcher of vanilla sauce tucked beside it, and she moved with the same easy grace she always had, placing the dish gently in the center of the table as the scent of caramelized fruit and butter filled the space.

“Was the sauce that good?” she asked with a light laugh, glancing over just in time to see her husband finishing his little motion, his fingers slipping from his mouth like it was nothing at all. “You just licked your fingers like you hadn’t eaten in days.”

Your entire body tensed.

Reed—calm, collected, horrifyingly composed—didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He simply tilted his head toward her, then turned back to you, his eyes locking with yours across the table, his gaze heavy with meaning, with memory, with the weight of what he’d just done to you, and said, without a flicker of shame—

“Delicious.”

Your stomach dropped. Your cheeks flamed. You looked away instantly, your eyes darting toward your lap, toward your empty plate, toward anywhere that wasn’t him, your skin hot and crawling with mortification, your thighs pressed tight together under the table, still slick and tender and sensitive as hell, and now—now you had to eat dessert.

With him. With her. With the taste of your orgasm still on his mouth.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You said your goodbyes to Sue as sweetly and shakily as you could manage, your voice still thin and breathless from the quiet ruin Reed had left you in, the remnants of your orgasm still echoing in your body like a pulse you couldn’t calm, and still—still—you smiled, you nodded, you played the part of the polite, well-mannered girl who had not just come in silence at the dinner table. Sue hugged you lightly at the door, warm and soft and lovely, thanking you for coming and saying how nice it was to meet you, her words kind and sincere, her smile so genuine it made you ache.

“We’ll have to do this again,” she said gently, her voice carrying no suspicion, no awareness, only the comfort of a woman who’d welcomed you into her home and truly meant it.

“It was an honor,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, eyes lowered, fingers nervously wrapped around the strap of your bag, heart pounding loud and unrelenting in your chest.

Reed appeared behind you then, as if summoned by the rhythm of your exit, and without saying anything, without asking, he moved to walk you out, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back—a simple gesture, one that should’ve been harmless, innocent, but that felt anything but, especially after what those fingers had just done to you beneath a tablecloth in the dim golden light of a family dining room.

The door clicked shut behind the two of you, and the hallway beyond was quiet, cool, and still, a soft hum from the city beyond the glass, but the silence between you buzzed with something thicker, darker, more intimate than you could bear. He said nothing at first, only walked beside you with slow, unhurried steps, like the moment hadn’t already been branded into both your bodies, like he hadn’t watched you fall apart with your hand over your mouth while his wife got dessert.

At the door to the elevator, he stopped, and you turned toward him, still too flustered to meet his eyes, still trying to hold yourself together with trembling fingers and shallow breaths, your lashes lowered as you whispered, “Thank you for… dinner.”

His response came after a pause, his voice smooth, impossibly steady. “You were perfect.”

You froze—eyes flicking up, breath catching—and found him watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was something beneath it now, something warmer and darker and dangerous, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth that made your knees weaken all over again.

“Good girl,” he added softly, low enough that only you could hear it, and the elevator doors opened behind you with a soft ding, cool air spilling out into the hallway like a breeze that didn’t belong.

You stepped inside on trembling legs, unsure if you remembered how to breathe, and as the doors began to close, you looked back—just once—and there he was, standing exactly as he had before, his hands in his pockets, head tilted ever so slightly, still watching you, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t wait to take apart again.

And when the doors shut fully, sealing you into silence, your hand finally flew to your chest.

Because you had just survived dinner. Barely. And you weren’t sure you’d ever be the same again.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

let me know your thoughtssss

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linuxgamenews · 10 months ago

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Hive Jump 2: Survivors 1.0: Jump, Dodge, and Attack!

Hive Jump 2: Survivors 1.0 launches into the bullet-heaven action roguelite game onto Linux and Windows PC. Thanks to the brilliant work of developers Graphite Lab, Joystick, and Sonamu Games. Available now on Steam with a discount and 87% Positive reviews. Midwest, a publisher known for supporting Midwest and under represented developers, just launched Hive Jump 2: Survivors out of Early Access with version 1.0. Developed by St. Louis-based studio Graphite Lab, this sci-fi bullet-heaven action roguelite is also available on Linux. In the full release, you’re the last Jumper standing after your squad was wiped out in an alien ambush. Fueled by revenge and the hunt for precious alien goo, you’re due to blast through waves of killer insects. All while using your trusty jetpack to jump, dodge, and attack. It’s a fast-paced survival title where every move counts. The title offers plenty of strategic depth with unique Jumpers that come with their own abilities and builds. So whether you prefer going all out with offense or playing it safe with extra health and speed. You can also customize your Jumper to fit your style.

Hive Jump 2: Survivors 1.0 Launch Trailer

youtube

One of the best parts of the game is collecting alien goo and amber. Which you’ll use to upgrade your weapons and unlock powerful abilities. So the more you collect, the better equipped you’ll be to take down the endless swarms of bugs. Hive Jump 2: Survivors 1.0 features four distinct biomes, each with its own enemies and challenges. You’ll also fight through glowing Crystal Caverns, the frozen tundra, volcanic wastelands, and creepy Mushroom Forests. Every biome requires different tactics, so upgrading your Jumper is key to surviving.

Here are some highlights:

Jetpacks for Dodging and Attacking: These let you fly around, dodge enemies, and rain fire down from above.

Aiming Options: Auto-fire lets you focus on dodging, or you can manually aim for precision kills.

Unique Jumpers: Each one has different stats for speed, health, and more.

Customizable Loadouts: Earn Hive Jump 2: Survivors upgrades in 1.0 and build your ideal Jumper to take on tougher challenges.

The HSA Store: Trade in goo for better gear, weapons, and power-ups.

Permanent Upgrades: Unlock new abilities that stick with you for future runs.

Get ready to jump into Hive Jump 2: Survivors 1.0 of the bullet-heaven action roguelite on Steam and see if you have what it takes to survive. Priced at $4.96 USD / £4.18 / 4,89€ with the 29% launch discount.>

#hive jump 2 survivors #bullet-heaven #action #roguelite #graphite lab #joystick #sonamu games #ubuntu #windows #pc #unity #Youtube #linux #gaming news

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sharivers92 · 1 year ago

Video

youtube

I'm playing new mr. run and jump game on atari vcs 800 i want to share this new video i made today enjoy

#youtube #atari #atarivcs #atari vcs #mrrunandjump #mr run and jump #graphitelab #graphite lab

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aspenmissing · 5 months ago

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ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ/ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ-ɪꜱʜ ||

6776 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄɪᴇꜱ, ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ

JAYCE

The Academy halls hummed with quiet energy, the rhythmic murmur of voices mingling with the distant hum of machinery and the occasional metallic clink of tools. Y/N moved purposefully through the corridors, her arms cradling an eclectic collection of blueprints, sketches, and notes. The crisp parchment edges tickled her fingers, and the faint scent of ink and graphite followed her like a familiar companion. As she passed by bustling classrooms and open workspaces, a few students glanced her way, their expressions a mix of awe and curiosity—Y/N Talis, wife of Jayce Talis, the formidable engineer and brilliant mind in her own right, always left an impression.

She turned the final corner leading to Jayce's lab, her heels clicking against the polished floors with a measured precision. Through the large glass window of the door, she spotted him instantly. Jayce’s broad shoulders were hunched slightly as he leaned over his workstation, gesturing animatedly with a spanner in hand. His deep, confident voice carried faintly through the barrier, underscored by his natural charisma. Opposite him stood a young woman, her bright eyes locked on him as though he were the sun, her posture leaning just enough to blur the line between attentive and overly familiar.

The girl’s hand rested lightly on Jayce’s arm, her laughter too airy, her smile too wide. Y/N’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. She recognised the type—the overeager assistant or ambitious student hoping for a little more than professional mentorship. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone vying for Jayce’s attention, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. But jealousy wasn’t in her nature, not when she trusted Jayce with everything she had. Instead, she found the situation mildly amusing, like watching a play unfold where the ending was already written.

Shifting the weight of the documents in her arms, Y/N stepped forward, nudging the door open with her hip. The quiet creak of the hinges was enough to break the conversation inside.

“Jayce,” she called, her voice smooth and warm, yet with an undeniable edge of authority that filled the space effortlessly.

Jayce’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, his expression shifting from focused concentration to unabashed delight. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up like a man seeing the love of his life walk into the room—which, of course, she was. “Perfect timing. I was just talking about the diagrams you’re carrying.”

The young woman stiffened slightly, her hand withdrawing from Jayce’s arm as though burned. Her eyes flickered to Y/N, quickly assessing her presence. Y/N stepped into the lab fully, her movements confident and unhurried, and placed the stack of blueprints and notes onto the table nearest Jayce. She dusted off her hands and turned towards him, her lips curving into a soft, genuine smile.

“Got everything you asked for,” she said casually, though there was an unmistakable tenderness in her tone. Without hesitation, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a deliberate kiss to his lips, her hand brushing his jawline gently.

Jayce responded instantly, his free hand instinctively finding the small of her back. The kiss was brief but unmissable, a silent declaration to anyone watching that Y/N was his and he was hers. When they parted, Jayce’s eyes lingered on her face, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “You’re a lifesaver, love,” he murmured, his tone dripping with affection.

Y/N’s gaze shifted to the girl, who now stood awkwardly by the workstation, her posture tense, her smile faltering. “And who’s this?” Y/N asked, her tone polite but laced with an unspoken firmness that immediately established her dominance in the room. “Do you need something?”

The girl blinked, visibly caught off guard. “Oh, um,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. “I was just... asking Mr Talis about some technical details for my project.”

Jayce nodded, his hand still resting on Y/N’s back as he explained. “She’s working on a research proposal,” he said, his tone easy but entirely professional. “Needed a bit of advice.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining kind but unwavering. “Well, you’ve come to the right person,” she said with a faint smile, her eyes locking with the girl’s. “Jayce is brilliant at this sort of thing. He loves helping others.”

Her words were friendly enough, but the subtle shift in her posture—standing closer to Jayce, her hand lightly brushing his arm—spoke volumes. She wasn’t just Jayce��s partner in work; she was his partner in life, and she had no intention of letting anyone forget that.

The girl’s smile grew increasingly strained. She quickly began gathering her notes, her movements rushed and clumsy. “Right... Well, thank you for your time, Mr Talis,” she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than before. “I’ll, um, follow up later if I have more questions.” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting between the couple, before practically fleeing the lab. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing faintly in the now-quiet room.

Jayce let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he turned to Y/N. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, his tone filled with admiration.

Y/N shrugged, leaning into his side with a sly smile. “I trust you,” she said simply. “But if someone’s getting touchy, I’m not going to let them think they have a chance.”

He grinned, his hand moving to cup her cheek as he looked down at her. “Good. Because I’m yours and only yours.”

“Damn right you are,” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She nudged him playfully before turning back to the stack of blueprints. Unrolling one of them, she scanned the intricate diagrams, her brows furrowing slightly. “Now, let’s get back to work. I don’t have time to fend off your fan club all day.”

Jayce laughed, the rich sound filling the lab. “Deal. But for the record, you’re the only admirer I care about.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. She reached out, brushing her fingers against his. “Good answer,” she murmured with a smirk before refocusing on the blueprint in her hands.

As they settled into their work, the earlier interruption faded into the background, replaced by the quiet, easy rhythm of their partnership. The hum of the lab surrounded them, but nothing could compare to the unspoken understanding and love that passed between them with every shared glance and touch. Together, they were unstoppable.

VIKTOR

The bustling streets of Piltover's marketplace were alive with chatter, laughter, and the vibrant colours of countless stalls. Merchants called out to passers-by, enticing them with promises of rare spices, glittering trinkets, and the finest textiles in the city. Children darted between legs, their laughter ringing out like bells, while the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted chestnuts wafted through the crisp afternoon air.

Y/N walked beside Viktor, her hand brushing his every so often as they strolled. Her humming was soft, barely audible over the noise of the market, but it was enough for Viktor to catch the tune. He smiled to himself, matching his steps with hers as best he could, his cane tapping lightly against the cobblestones with every measured step.

Viktor didn’t often venture into the crowded streets of Piltover. The chaotic energy of the marketplace wasn’t exactly his domain—he preferred the quiet order of his lab. But with Y/N beside him, her boundless curiosity and infectious excitement made the marketplace feel almost magical.

As they wandered further into the maze of stalls, Y/N’s attention flitted from one display to the next. A vendor showcasing intricately carved wooden figurines caught her eye, then another selling jars of honey so golden they seemed to glow in the sunlight. Without even realising it, she drifted a few steps ahead, her gaze fixed on a stall overflowing with brightly coloured fabrics.

Viktor paused, noticing her absence. He turned his head, searching the crowd until he caught a glimpse of her dark hair weaving through the throng. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he watched her. “Always in her own world,” he murmured, shaking his head affectionately before beginning his careful pursuit.

Y/N, meanwhile, had been drawn to a flower vendor’s stall. The display was stunning—a riot of colours spilling out from buckets and vases, the petals dewy and fragrant. She leaned in to inhale the scent of a bouquet of violets, their delicate purple hues catching the light. The scent was intoxicating, a sweet reminder of open fields and quiet meadows.

“You’ve got a good eye for beauty,” a voice interrupted her reverie. Y/N straightened and turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing beside her, his grin as self-assured as his tone. He gestured toward the violets she’d been admiring. “But they’ve got nothing on you.”

Y/N blinked, caught slightly off guard, but her expression quickly shifted into one of polite friendliness. “Thank you,” she said, her tone light and neutral. “I was just admiring the flowers.”

The man stepped closer, clearly emboldened. “Maybe I could buy you a bouquet? What’s your favourite? Roses? Daffodils?”

Y/N shook her head gently, trying not to sound curt. “That’s kind of you, but I’m just browsing.”

The man didn’t take the hint. “Oh, come on. A pretty woman like you deserves to be spoiled.” His grin widened, his tone oozing smug confidence, as if he were certain she’d melt under his charm.

Before Y/N could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Am I interrupting something?”

She turned to see Viktor standing a few paces away, his golden eyes sharp despite the calm expression on his face. He leaned slightly on his cane, his posture steady and self-assured despite his evident limp.

The stranger frowned, his gaze flicking dismissively over Viktor’s figure, lingering on the brace on his leg and the cane in his hand. “No offence, mate,” the man said, his tone dripping with condescension, “but this doesn’t concern you. Why don’t you hobble off and leave the lady to someone who can actually keep up with her?”

Y/N’s polite smile vanished instantly, replaced by a glare that could have frozen the sun. Before she could speak, Viktor stepped closer, his cane clicking against the stones as he approached.

His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and in that glance, they shared an unspoken understanding—a silent agreement that this man wasn’t worth their time.

Viktor turned his attention back to the stranger, his expression calm but resolute. “I would suggest you leave my wife alone,” he said, his tone measured but carrying a quiet authority that demanded respect.

The stranger blinked, momentarily stunned. “Your wife?” he repeated, disbelief written all over his face.

Viktor didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a few coins, and handed them to the flower vendor. He carefully selected a bouquet of violets—the same ones Y/N had been admiring—and held them out to her, his smile softening.

“For you, moje krásná paní manželka,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with a playful emphasis on the words. (My pretty lady wife)

Y/N’s expression melted into one of pure affection. She took the flowers from him, her smile radiant as she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured, her voice sweet enough to make the stranger’s ears burn.

Viktor offered the man one final glance—polite but firm. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere important to be.”

Without waiting for a response, he extended his free hand to Y/N, who slipped her fingers through his without hesitation. Together, they turned and walked away, leaving the flustered man standing speechless by the flower stall.

As they rejoined the flow of the marketplace, Y/N gave Viktor’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice soft but touched with gratitude.

Viktor chuckled, a quiet sound that rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Perhaps not,” he replied, his tone teasing. “But I couldn’t let him think he had a chance, could I?”

She laughed, the sound bright and warm as the sun overhead. “My hero,” she said, her smile playful but her eyes shining with sincerity.

Viktor glanced down at her, his golden eyes brimming with affection. “And you,” he said softly, “are worth every flower in Piltover.”

JAYVIK

The grand hall of the gala glittered with opulence, the lights bouncing off the crystalline chandeliers and polished marble floors. A soft murmur of chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses filled the space. Y/N stood off to the side with Viktor, her arm looped casually through his. The pair, along with Mel Medarda, were engaged in polite conversation about recent developments in Piltover politics, though the conversation flowed easily to lighter subjects, like the evening’s extravagant décor.

As Mel’s laughter tapered off, her dark eyes drifted past Y/N and Viktor, honing in on a familiar figure across the room. She smirked knowingly and tilted her glass towards the scene. “Your Jayce appears to be quite the centre of attention tonight.”

Y/N and Viktor turned their heads in unison, their gazes falling on Jayce. The tall inventor stood amidst a small group of men and women, all hanging onto his every word. His confidence was magnetic, and it was clear he was enjoying himself, though the crowd seemed just a bit too interested. Hands brushed his arm, fingers lingered on his shoulder, and laughter bubbled up too freely from his admirers.

Viktor hummed, his lips twitching in mild annoyance. “Like moths to a flame,” he remarked dryly, leaning more heavily on his cane.

Y/N sighed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Honestly, they’re practically swarming him,” she muttered. She took a sip of her champagne, her grip on the glass tightening. “Do they not see the ring on his finger?”

“Do they care?” Viktor countered, raising a brow. He exchanged a glance with Y/N, both of them clearly on the same page. Jayce might be their husband, but that didn’t mean they were above feeling a twinge of jealousy at the scene before them.

Mel chuckled, an elegant, knowing sound that drew their attention back to her. “Now, now,” she teased, “don’t do anything rash. You’ll only make it more amusing for them.” Her sharp eyes gleamed with mischief as she took a slow sip from her glass. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to start a scene, would we?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Rash? Us? Never,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N let out a quiet laugh but folded her arms across her chest, unable to entirely suppress the spark of annoyance. “Maybe I should go remind him that he’s the one who’s supposed to stay by our sides, not entertain every vulture that flutters by.”

“Oh, but you’re far more captivating when you let him sweat a little,” Mel pointed out with a sly grin. “He’s a smart man—he’ll realise soon enough.”

As if sensing their gazes, Jayce glanced over, his broad smile faltering slightly when he caught the looks Y/N and Viktor were sending his way. His admirers seemed not to notice, but Jayce’s shoulders straightened, and he offered them a sheepish smile.

Y/N smirked, raising her glass towards him in a silent toast. Viktor gave a subtle shake of his head, a small but unmistakable warning. Jayce quickly excused himself from the group, weaving through the crowd to join his partners.

When he finally reached them, Jayce rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence a little diminished. “I see you noticed my, uh… predicament.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Predicament? Looked like you were having the time of your life.”

“More like being circled by sharks,” Viktor quipped, though there was no real venom in his tone.

Jayce huffed out a laugh, sliding an arm around both of them. “You know there’s only two people I’d rather spend my time with.”

“Smart answer,” Y/N said, though her tone was laced with affection.

“Very,” Viktor agreed, leaning slightly into Jayce’s side. “But don’t let it happen again.”

Before Jayce could respond, Y/N’s sharp eyes flicked over his shoulder, catching sight of two of his earlier admirers hesitantly making their way towards them. They were still wearing the same overly polite smiles, clearly unwilling to relinquish his attention just yet. Y/N let out a quiet, guttural sound—not quite a growl, but close enough to make Viktor glance at her with an amused expression.

“Oh no,” Viktor murmured under his breath, his lips twitching with humour. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“Let me handle it,” Y/N whispered, her voice dangerously sweet as her eyes tracked the approaching pair. “I’m not in the mood for this nonsense.”

Jayce followed her gaze, his brows knitting together as he realised who was coming. He sighed, stepping slightly in front of his partners in an instinctive gesture of protection. “I’ll—”

“No,” Y/N interrupted firmly, her free hand lightly pressing against his chest. “They’ve had more than enough of your time.”

Mel, observing the exchange, covered her mouth to hide her grin. “I do enjoy seeing you three in action,” she remarked, swirling her champagne. “It’s always so… theatrical.”

Viktor straightened slightly, gripping his cane as if considering stepping in himself. “Let them come,” he said dryly, though his tone held an edge. “I’d like to see how bold they really are.”

As the pair drew closer, Y/N’s glare sharpened into something almost predatory. The intensity of her stare must have registered because they hesitated, exchanged a few murmured words, and quickly retreated back into the crowd.

Jayce let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t realise I’d married such a formidable pair.”

Y/N smirked, lifting her glass in mock toast. “It’s not formidable—it’s called protecting what’s ours.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jayce said, his voice full of warmth as he pulled them both closer.

Mel tilted her head, raising her glass to them. “Now, that is how you command a room without saying a word. Bravo.”

VANDER

Y/N was bustling about the dimly lit chaos of The Last Drop, weaving through the crowd with the practised ease of someone who’d worked the bar for years. The tavern was alive with noise: laughter, shouts, clinking glasses, and the occasional thud of a fist meeting a table in emphasis. The air smelled of spilled ale, sweat, and smoke, but Y/N didn’t mind. She thrived in this environment. She always carried herself with an air of calm grace, even amidst the most chaotic nights, her presence grounding to both the regulars and the staff.

Tonight was no different—at least, not at first. But as the hours ticked by, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A quick glance confirmed it: a table in the corner, occupied by a group of men who’d been lingering far too long over their drinks, their gazes lingering far too long on her.

She ignored them as best she could, continuing to flit between tables, clearing mugs, taking orders, and flashing her polite smile at every lewd comment thrown her way. It wasn’t uncommon in a place like this, but it didn’t make it any less tiresome. She was used to handling herself, though. She always had been.

Eventually, the inevitable happened. She approached the corner table to clear the growing collection of empty mugs. One of the men, a scruffy fellow with a greasy grin, leaned back in his chair and extended his boot, blocking her path with an exaggerated smirk.

"Well, aren’t you a pretty thing," he slurred, his words thick with drink and arrogance. His eyes roamed over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "Didn’t know The Last Drop hired angels to serve the likes of us."

Y/N kept her expression neutral, though her polite smile remained firmly in place. She expertly sidestepped his boot, bending slightly to collect the mugs without missing a beat. “Just doing my job,” she replied smoothly, her tone calm and professional. “What can I get you?”

The man’s companions chuckled, their laughter carrying the kind of oily smugness that sent a flicker of annoyance through her. She didn’t let it show, focusing instead on scribbling down their order. But one of the men leaned forward, his smirk widening as his eyes caught the glint of her wedding ring.

"That ring of yours, love,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Bet whoever put it there can’t protect you like we could. Someone like you needs a man who can actually handle himself.” He sat back, clearly pleased with his own bravado, as his companions snickered.

Y/N felt a flicker of irritation, but her smile didn’t falter. She was used to comments like this, and she knew how to brush them off without escalating the situation. Still, she opened her mouth to respond, ready to deliver a cutting yet professional retort—when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

A familiar presence loomed behind her, and a long shadow fell across the table. The men’s chuckles faded as they slowly realised they were no longer the centre of attention. Vander had arrived.

“Is that right?” came his low, gravelly voice, calm but brimming with a quiet menace that sent a chill through the room.

Y/N didn’t even flinch. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile softening slightly at the sight of her husband. Vander stood tall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his imposing figure radiating authority. His eyes, cold and calculating, were fixed on the men at the table.

The scruffy man who had spoken earlier shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his cocky grin faltering. "Just a bit of fun,” he muttered, his bravado evaporating under Vander’s piercing gaze.

“Funny,” Vander said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned down slightly, resting a large, calloused hand on Y/N’s lower back. “Because it sounded like you were asking for a different kind of lesson.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and the men exchanged uneasy glances. Y/N, ever composed, placed the tray down on the table with practised ease, her polite smile still firmly in place.

“Well then,” she said cheerfully, her tone light and unconcerned, “your drinks will be out shortly.” Her calm demeanour only seemed to emphasise Vander’s silent warning, and she could feel his hand resting protectively against her back.

Vander straightened, his gaze never leaving the table as he addressed the men one final time. "You’d best remember where you are. And who runs it." His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "You don’t touch what’s mine."

The men muttered hurried apologies, their confidence thoroughly shattered. They couldn’t look anywhere but their table as Y/N turned to continue her work, Vander following close behind her. When they reached the bar, she glanced up at him with a teasing smile, her expression amused.

“Subtle as ever, aren’t you?” she said softly, reaching for a fresh tray of mugs.

Vander huffed a quiet laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned against the bar. His hand brushed hers, a quiet reassurance. “Didn’t like the way they looked at you.”

“I noticed.” She leaned up on her toes, Vander bending down a little, to press a quick kiss to his cheek, her smile warm. “But I’ve got it handled. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s going to try anything now.”

Vander smiled down at her, his hand resting briefly against her cheek before dropping to his side. “Damn right they won’t.”

Despite the earlier tension, the moment between them felt light, easy. Y/N returned to her work with a renewed sense of calm, while Vander lingered near the bar, his protective gaze ensuring no one else even thought about testing their luck.

SILCO

The dim light of Silco's office cast long shadows across the room, the flickering flames of the lamps accentuating his sharp features. He sat at his desk, fingers steepled, eyes narrowed in thought as he spoke with a man from one of the lesser factions in Zaun. Silco's voice was calm, calculated, but there was an edge to it—a clear warning not to waste his time. His presence alone commanded authority, but there was something more palpable in the air. The unspoken understanding that crossing him would be a mistake—one no one would make twice.

And then, there was you.

Leaning languidly against the edge of Silco's desk, you were a vision of confidence, of power masked behind the allure of your smile. Your body was angled just enough to hold the man’s attention, your eyes locked onto his, but always, always dancing over him as if to draw him in. Your lips curled into a sultry smile, soft and inviting, while your fingers traced the smooth surface of the desk, the subtle motion hypnotic, like the flick of a predator’s tail.

You knew exactly what you were doing. Your touch, the slow movements of your hands, they were designed to disarm, to draw attention away from Silco’s calculated threats and promises. The man—poor fool—couldn’t seem to focus on a single word Silco was saying. His eyes darted between you and the dangerous man across the desk, unable to stop himself from being pulled into your orbit. You could practically see his resolve crumbling, his thoughts scrambling as your presence enveloped him.

You leaned forward slightly, close enough to make him tense, your hand brushing lightly across the man’s shoulder. His breath caught, eyes widening as you spoke, your voice a soft, lilting purr that made his chest tighten. "You know," you murmured, the words laced with honeyed temptation, "working with us could benefit you more than you think. I can promise, we make it worth your while."

The man stammered, lost for words as your fingers trailed slowly down the front of his chest. Your touch was delicate but deliberate, each movement designed to toy with him, to make him feel as if he were the only person in the room. His pulse quickened as he tried to compose himself, but you leaned in just enough for your lips to hover close to his ear, the scent of your perfume clouding his mind.

Silco watched all of it, his gaze as cold as steel. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the edge of his desk, the movement barely noticeable, but his jaw clenched with restraint. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were a black widow—using your beauty, your charm, your body as a weapon, a tool to distract, to ensnare, to get what you wanted. And he couldn't help but admire it, in all its lethal precision. You had always been a master of manipulation, drawing people into your web with ease, your every move calculated to make them underestimate the danger you posed.

It was thrilling, watching you weave your spell, but it was dangerous too. Because while he had seen many fall prey to your charms, seeing your hands on another man, your lips curling with that teasing smile—it stirred something in him that wasn’t just a sharp sense of control, but a possessiveness, an urge to protect what was his, and a frustration that he couldn’t fully contain. It was a feeling that didn’t make sense, one that was far from rational, but it was there nonetheless, simmering beneath the surface.

A flare of jealousy—sharp, immediate—flashed through him.

"Enough," Silco snapped, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip cracking through the air. The man jumped, startled, his eyes shifting between Silco and you, as if trying to gauge his next move. But Silco’s glare was as unforgiving as a blade, and the man was no fool. "Leave. Now."

The man blinked, the fear creeping into his eyes as he quickly gathered himself. His hands fumbled as he straightened his clothes, his voice shaking as he stammered a hasty apology. Silco's gaze, cold and commanding, made it clear there was no room for argument. The man didn’t hesitate; he fled, the door slamming behind him as though it were a final punctuation to his presence in Silco’s domain.

You turned slowly towards Silco, your lips curving into a teasing smile. You could feel the shift in the air, the subtle tension that thickened as you stood before him. Your brow arched, and you tilted your head, a faint, innocent look in your eyes that did little to mask the playfulness beneath. "What?" you asked, your voice lilting, soft as you returned his gaze. "I was just making sure he didn’t get distracted."

Silco’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, but his movements betrayed his inner thoughts. He stood abruptly, stepping around the desk with the calculated grace of a predator, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved with purpose, each step measured, predatory. His presence closed in around you like a tightening noose, and you knew there was no escape from the storm you had stirred.

"What was that, darling?" His voice was low, a growl wrapped in silk, the words heavy with dark intent. He stopped in front of you, his towering presence forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. "Don’t play coy with me."

You shrugged nonchalantly, not an ounce of fear in your posture, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. "Just helping you seal the deal. He seemed… distracted. I thought a little charm might keep him focused."

He moved suddenly, his hand darting out to grip your chin, not with violence, but with the firm authority that only he could wield. His fingers were like iron around you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. You couldn’t look away, caught in the heat of his glare, the raw intensity of his gaze burning through you like a brand. "You think I need your… charm to make people listen to me?" His voice was dangerously soft, but the underlying threat was clear.

You smirked, undeterred, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Of course not. But it doesn’t hurt to have a little insurance, does it?"

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath catch. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressing into yours as his breath ghosted over your ear. "And what about me, Y/N?" he whispered, his voice dark, thick with a possessiveness you could feel radiating off him. "Watching you touch him, lean into him like that…" His hand moved to the small of your back, fingers splaying out as though claiming you in front of him, as if the very air around you belonged to him. "Do you enjoy testing my patience?"

Your smirk faltered, just slightly. His jealousy was palpable, raw, and it sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You’d never seen him so openly possessive. "I didn’t mean anything by it," you murmured, your voice dropping into something more sincere, more vulnerable. "You know that."

His lips brushed against your ear, the feel of his breath sending a tremor through you. "I do," he said, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. "But I can’t stand the sight of another man’s hands near you—or yours on him." His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and the sharp edges of his anger twisted into something more primal. "I think you need a reminder of who you belong to."

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours with a hunger that nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. His kiss was fierce, possessive, claiming, as if he wanted to mark you, to make you remember where you belonged. His hands moved over you, gripping your hips tightly, possessively, as though daring the universe itself to try and take you from him. You melted into the kiss, the heat between you both burning bright and consuming.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, hooded with desire, but beneath that, there was something more—an unspoken command. His voice was a low rasp, filled with a raw edge. "You’re mine, Y/N," he whispered, each word dripping with possessiveness. "And don’t you forget it."

A sly smile crept across your face, despite the heavy weight of his words. You leaned into him, your hands sliding up his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles, and your lips brushed against his ear. "How could I, with the way you remind me?"

His smirk returned, but it was sharper, more dangerous. "Good," he growled, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as though there was no distance he was willing to allow. "Because next time, I won’t be so… patient."

As the air around you thickened with desire, you could feel the undeniable shift in power—you were his, and you always would be. The game had changed. And Silco, in all his quiet, commanding intensity, had reminded you just how much control he had over you, body and soul.

JINX/POWDER

The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows over Zaun's rundown streets. The city had always been a place of stark contrasts—grimy and industrial, yet teeming with life, especially in the market district. Y/N sat on an old, weathered bench, legs crossed, her hands resting loosely in her lap as she hummed a soft melody, her gaze distant. The hustle and bustle around her seemed to fade as she focused on the simple pleasure of the moment.

A small cluster of Zaun’s children had gathered around her, forming a loose circle. They were entranced by her calm, collected presence. Her voice, a soft mix of wisdom and warmth, flowed effortlessly as she spoke to them.

“I don’t care if you make mistakes,” she said with a reassuring smile, her eyes flicking between the eager faces of the kids. “We all do. But that’s not what matters. What matters is what you do after. You can keep making the same mistake, or you can learn from it and move forward. What are you gonna do?”

The children’s eyes lit up, hanging on her every word, nodding along as if absorbing each bit of advice like a sponge. Y/N had become their unspoken anchor in this chaotic world, a person they could rely on for more than just survival tips. She gave them hope in a place that had little of it to spare, and they respected her deeply for it. Whether they sought advice on how to stay out of trouble or simply needed someone to listen, Y/N was always there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden, unmistakable sound of someone shifting through the alleyways, their footsteps quick and light, a telltale sign of someone who wasn’t trying to be discreet. Y/N smiled softly to herself, knowing exactly who it was, even before she looked up.

The familiar rustling of Jinx's footsteps echoed through the air, and sure enough, the moment Y/N’s gaze lifted, she spotted her—her hair a chaotic mess of blue curls, eyes narrowed in a way that meant only one thing: mischief. Jinx’s gaze, however, was fixed firmly on the group of kids gathered around Y/N.

Y/N could practically hear the gears turning in Jinx's head. The older woman could see the sharp lines of irritation appearing across Jinx’s face, her lips curling into an almost predatory smirk. Her eyes—those wild, electric blue eyes—glowed with a certain intensity that made her presence undeniably formidable.

“They’re all over you, huh?” Jinx asked, her voice tinged with an edge of annoyance that only she could mask with that signature grin. “What’s the deal with that? They’re... like... swarming you, and I’m standing here, like, totally ignored.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh light but full of affection. She turned to meet Jinx’s gaze, watching the younger woman as she crossed her arms over her chest, a sulking pout beginning to form.

“They just look up to me, Jinx,” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the one who’s been around longer. They’re kids; they need someone to look to. You know that.”

But before Y/N could say more, Jinx had already taken a step forward, her posture suddenly rigid with determination. Her eyes locked onto the children, who had begun to slowly back away, sensing her unsettling presence. Without a word, Jinx raised a hand, giving them a slow, deliberate glare. It was the kind of look that could freeze anyone in place, a mixture of warning and threat that sent a chill through the air.

The kids, wide-eyed and stiff with fear, began to scatter. One by one, they scurried away, no longer able to stand their ground against the unpredictable force of Jinx. Y/N shook her head with an exasperated but fond smile.

“Jinx,” she called, her voice light, “you really need to stop scaring them off like that.”

Jinx let out a huff, her arms still crossed, and her pout deepened, lips curving into a sulky frown. “They were getting too close to you,” she muttered, her voice quiet but dripping with possessiveness. “They were... I don’t like it when they crowd you like that.”

Y/N rose from the bench, her movements slow and deliberate as she walked over to Jinx. She stood in front of her for a moment, taking in the conflicted expression on Jinx’s face. She could see the underlying vulnerability beneath the tough exterior, and it made her heart soften.

With a gentle touch, Y/N placed her hands on Jinx’s shoulders, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice soft and affectionate, “you don’t have to worry about them. They don’t want to take me from you. They look up to me because I’ve been here longer. But you…” She paused, her thumb lightly brushing across Jinx’s cheek, “you’ll always be my little troublemaker. The one who keeps me on my toes.”

Jinx's gaze softened, but she still crossed her arms tighter, looking down at her feet. The faintest hint of insecurity flickered in her eyes, but it quickly vanished as she looked back up at Y/N.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me,” Jinx murmured, her voice smaller now, as if admitting something too fragile to say aloud.

Y/N’s heart melted at the vulnerability in her tone. She leaned down even further, resting her forehead against Jinx’s, her hands cupping the younger woman’s face. “You’ll never lose me, Jinx. Ever,” she said softly, her words a promise. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me. Whether you like it or not.”

For a brief moment, Jinx seemed unsure, her gaze darting away as if she couldn’t quite believe it. But then she nodded, a tiny, satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright,” she said, the confidence returning to her voice. “But if they try again... I’m scaring them all off, and you can’t stop me.”

Y/N’s laughter bubbled up again, and she wrapped her arms around Jinx in a quick, tender hug. “Deal,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “But you know, you don’t have to protect me from the kids. They’re just trying to learn from me.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, but her grin returned, as wild and carefree as ever. “I know, I know. But I don’t trust anyone near you,” she replied, her tone still playful.

Y/N kissed the top of Jinx’s head affectionately, pulling away with a wide grin. “And that’s exactly why I love you, you little mischief-maker.”

Jinx’s eyes sparkled with something that could only be described as pride, and her grin widened. The earlier jealousy had been replaced with a renewed sense of certainty. She was the one Y/N was always going to be there for, and that knowledge settled deep in her chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jinx said with a teasing roll of her eyes. “Just don’t forget it.”

Y/N chuckled again, her heart swelling with affection for the young woman standing beside her. She had no idea what Zaun would throw at them next, but with Jinx at her side, she knew they could handle whatever came their way.

Side by side, the two of them stood in the fading light, ready to face whatever chaos the streets of Zaun had in store for them.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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thecordelialetters · 6 months ago

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The Art of Science

Viktor x artist!fem!reader

WC: 1.4k

An unlikely meeting of a lonely scientist and a student of the arts finding the beauty in themselves and each other.

Viktor never considered himself beautiful. His dimly lit room contained the basic human needs, a bed, a desk, and a sofa, all provided by the academy. There were no big mirrors besides the foggy one that sat above his bathroom sink. He barely glanced at it other than to fix his bedhead. The bags under his eyes and paling skin were hard to look at. Viktor believed in his work; he couldn't care less about vanity when he poured his energy into the lab daily. In the same way, he cared about his looks he gave the same effort into cultivating relationships. Like the mirror, Viktor didn't spare a glance at someone who wasn't interested in conversing about his projects or his vision for a better world. You were the complete opposite. You took life one step at a time, a personification of stopping to smell the roses come to life. As an artist, you look to beauty in the everyday. Perhaps it was fate your paths crossed, usually, you never dared enter the science wing of the academy but you had finished your painting early and wanted to go on a stroll to clear your mind. It was intimidating being around the brightest minds in Piltover. Most of them looked down on your profession. What was art compared to science? They'd mock you as you passed them, believing their work was revolutionary and way more important than a simple painting. It unnerved you but you'd never show it. A string of curses left Viktor's lips at another failed attempt at the Hexcore. Progress day was just a few weeks away and he had nothing to show for. As he hit his hand on the table in frustration, the vibration pushed the lab door open. The light from the small room shone on your face as you passed. Hearing a man's frustration you cautiously peaked your head through the door. You couldn't see exactly who was in the room but you could make out his back. The man was slender but had broader shoulders clad in a maroon button-up and white vest. His hair was a deep brown that flitted out over his ears. The room was messy, not as messy as your studio. You could see the genius behind the papers strewn over the desks and the many machines being worked on with the smell of oil in the air. Feeling the unusual sensation of being watched, Viktor turned his head to the side finding the door had been breached open. With a cramped hand, smeared graphite from all the writing he had been doing, he grabbed his cane and made his way to close the door. He pushed the opening gently finding the scene of you sitting on the floor, scribbling furiously in your notebook. His amber eyes drifted over your, messy locks tied in a ponytail, paired with gentle features that harmoniously made your face look perfect if it wasn't for the paint smudges on your cheek. He took a peak at your sketchbook finding familiar figures on the page of him in the lab. "What are you doing here little mouse?" He spoke in his soft accent. You stopped sketching and looked up, eyes widening at his presence. "I um...I was just passing by. I'm (y/n) part of the arts department." You looked down at your drawing, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught. The handsome inventor crouched in front of you to sit. He held out one hand, "May I see?" You nodded and pushed your book into his hands, eyes boring into his face. Even under the dimly lit hallway of the academy, he was much more attractive. The flicker from the bulbs danced on his high cheekbones and you swore you could see the specks of brown in his amber eyes. Viktor scanned the page in detail. It was fascinating how you were able to so accurately portray his figure and inventions. Every nutt and bolt and every curve of his body you conveyed beautifully. "This is amazing (y/n)." He gave you a small smile. You beamed shyly in response. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you spoke up, "May I? Sit with you and draw you?" Albeit shocked at your request his eyes widened.

Frighted you might have scared him off you waved your hands, "If not its okay, I should be getting back anyways." You grabbed the book from his hand and shoved your supplies in your bag.

Before you could bolt away a firm grasp held onto your wrist. "You did not give me a chance to answer little mouse." He smiled gently looking down at you. "Come, sit next to me, I would love to be your muse." You smiled giddly and hopped up dashing into the lab. Viktor chuckled at your antics. He had not experienced meeting someone as sparkling as you. It was as if someone had collected a burst of a newborn star and embodied it into a girl. You carefully danced your way around the lab not wanting to knock anything over but also letting your curiosity draw you in. You turned to the sound of a chair scraping the floor. Viktor had sat down and began writing his research again. Dragging a chair next to him you position yourself at his side with enough space to give you the perfect angle of his face and upper body. The almost burnt-out candle on Viktor's desk cleared the way of the darkness while the two of you worked on your delicate craft in silence. The sounds of scratching pencils battled each other as your furious ideas filled the page. Feeling the way your eyes bore into his skin Viktor couldn't help but feel nervous. What if you actually wanted to leave and were staying here out of pity. Why would you want to stay anyways? He wasn't conversing with you nor was he doing anything worth viewing.

Unable to resist his interest any longer he turned to look at you. Your eyes met paired with the warmest smile he's received in a long time. Your smile made his heart flutter in a way that was concerning. Perhaps it was his condition acting up again. Silently you held up your notebook to his face. The breath in his lungs had dissipated. It was...stunning. Was that really him? The page contained 3 versions of himself. Every wrinkle on his face, the curve of his jaw, and even the bags under his eyes were present. Somehow you had made him look...decent, attractive even. "You flatter me too much little mouse, this looks far better than I do in person." You leaned forward pushing your book on the table. "No this is you. This is exactly what you look like." You brought up a slender finger and traced his features. "See this here? Is also here." One had felt his face the other pointed to different places in your picture. "You are beautiful Viktor." With a soft smile, the light flickered on your face showing the freckles that danced on your skin. "Well, thank you little mouse I like your drawings very much." You nodded and flipped the page to continue. The two of you worked in silence for hours. Neither of you spoke a word but the atmosphere felt like a home on a Christmas night. Quiet but comfortable, filled with some kind of magic. "I wish I had my watercolors." Viktor paused at your honey-smooth voice. "Why is that?" He questioned. His eyes fluttered back and forth over your figure. Fresh laundry, paint, and lavender filled his lungs as you let your hair down from your ponytail. "You have these gorgeous amber eyes that I just want to paint but I can't" You pout. Viktor laughed heartily at your confession. "Well, why don't you come tomorrow night. I will be here again and you can paint me." He took an insecure pause. "If you want of course." You nodded before looking at the time. "Oh my it's so late, I'm so sorry for keeping you. I should head back now." Viktor gently held your hand that laid on his shoulder.

"Do not worry, I was going to be here regardless. Actually, I would like to thank you, your presence was most enjoyable." You blushed and brushed a few locks of hair from Viktor's face. "Well, then I'm glad I could be of good company." Packing up your supplies you couldn't help but notice Viktor's disappointed face. With a smooth tear, you ripped the drawing from your sketchbook. Surprised he jumped up thinking you tore the picture.

"Here! Have it. It will be a promise I'll come tomorrow." Realizing you were giving the drawing to him, he gingerly held the drawing staring at the multitude of strokes that somehow compiled into his likeliness. He swore the room was growing warming, what else could excuse the heat filling his chest. "I'll hold you to that, little mouse."

Authors Note: This is currently unedited and a short but maybe Ill come back to it. I just got a burst of energy to write again.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #arcane #arcane s2 #league of legends #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you

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kitkatpadywaks · 6 months ago

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Arcane fic recs

i'm not over Arcane s2.

Key: 🔥Smut - ❤️ Fluff - 💢 Angst - ❤️‍🩹 Hurt/Comfort

Last Updated: 24th January 2025

Multi Fandom fic recs | Bucky Barnes fic recs | Daryl Dixon fic recs

BED CHEM by @yukioos (viktor x reader) ESPRESSO (BED CHEM PT2)

summary: you and mel walk down the hallways of piltover university when suddenly, you encounter two men trying to break into a professor’s laboratory.

🔥virgin!viktor by @pipthepiper (virgin!viktor x experienced!reader)

thinking about cuddling s1 Viktor ♡ by @juststrawberrytea

It's you in the reflection, not him. by @wheatbreadfuckyeah [Viktor x Reader] Graphite Powder Oh, To Capture You In Pages [Viktor X Reader]

🔥Study Date by @honey-pages (Viktor x Reader) 🔥Weaker (Study Date Part 2) ❤️Tea and Biscuits (Study Date Part 3) ❤️Play Fight (Fluff Fics Part 1) ❤️Kiss Me (Fluff Fics Part 2)

summary: Viktor waits for you in the library for an unexpected study date.

Kindling Sparks by @prettybouquets Golden Hour Confessions

🔥academic rivals by @ihopeinevergetsoberr (viktor x fem!reader) 💢🔥i'm in love with a dying man 🔥do you fancy a quickie?

🔥studying birds and bees by @dadsbongos

summary: viktor, alone and glum, is not comforted by the company of a fellow scientist at a hextech exhibition party. not until you mention taking him home, at least.

🔥Take My Hand by @zerun0 (Viktor x Y/N (Female) ❤️Ivy & Iron

❤️💢🔥The Prophecy by @lokidjarin-7567 (Viktor x You)

summary: When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more.

Late Night Studying by @amaranthine-apollo

Asymmetrical Symphony by @sweetflanfiction (Viktor x gn!reader) pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7

summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Across the River by @am-i-interrupting

summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

🔥❤️‍🩹Viktor x Reader by @bluecookies02 🔥Sub!Viktor x Reader

squeeze you in by @foolinafable (Viktor x reader)

summary: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you

Take A Break by @unoislazy (Viktor x Reader)

summary: Viktor doesn’t want you to be like him. You’re taking a break and you’re gonna like it.

viktor x assistant!reader by @visbacktatto

❤️[4:24 am] what are we? by @aaksuitac

Can you feel anything? by @meownotgood

🔥A 'Quick' Experiment by @supernovalcholism (VIKTOR x GN!READER)

summary: After a long day working in the lab all day, Viktor and you find an anomaly. Another hour in the lab with the man you loved so dearly? Another hour couldn't hurt! Time for science!

Unspoken Rivalry by @supernovalcholism pt2 pt3

Early Morning Whispers by @harbinger-of-enmity (Viktor x GN Reader Drabble(?), brain dump(?)

🔥Keeping Him Company by @grugruel (Viktor x f!reader)

Personal Pigments - Cadmium Yellow Deep Hue by @thefandomsfervent (Viktor x Reader) Burnt Umber (Part 2) Ultramarine Light (Part 3) King's Blue Light (Part 4) Venetian Red (Part 5) Carmine Red (Part 6) Oro Scuro (Part 7) Burnt Sienna (Part 8) Lavender Tinted Gesso (Part 9) Quinacridone Rose (Part 10 - This is now a JayVik (and eventually Mel) x reader fic.)

summary: Heimerdinger forgets to warn the science bros that an artist is coming in to visualize them and Hextech, a collaborative program between a Piltover art school and the academy for some new hall meant to be unveiled at an upcoming progress day. Large paintings can take years to do, with Hextech’s promising growth they are to be started in a preemptive manner.

💢For You, Always by @narnian-neverlander [Viktor x GN!Reader]

summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

strawberry wine by @fushiguro-megloomy (modern au!viktor x artist!reader) 🔥After the Distance

summary: prompt - “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you”

The Handsome Assistant by @galactic-magick (Viktor x Reader) ❤️A Proper Date (Part 2)

summary: You keep running into the handsome Dean's assistant, whom you find you have a lot in common with. You develop quite the crush, and things get a little messy when your friends find out about him.

🔥💢(feel) whole by @kismetre

summary: ⤷ : in which you make viktor (feel) whole. and hope. and human.

May You Never Forget Me by @inkinflux (Viktor x gn!Reader)

summary: Viktor replays fond memories with his newfound power, though your memory refuses to allow him such peace.

💢❤️🔥Can you do that for me? by @grugruel (ruined!Jayce x f!reader)

summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

🔥i. wildflowers by @zevrra (jayce x reader x viktor) 🔥ii. wildflowers together 🔥iii. wildflowers forever

summary: you and vik get caught “messing around” in the lab by jayce; who surprisingly wants to join in on the fun.

🔥viktor x reader x jayce by @zevrra

summary: fem!reader and jayce help vik “focus” for a speech!

Lab shenanigans by @the-odd-shu (Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!) Hey Hextech, is it gay to cuddle your co-workers? (Part 2)

summary: A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

auspicious (pt. 1) by @alg3a (jayce x f!reader x viktor / jayvik x f!reader) 🔥pt. 2

summary: Viktor and Jayce’s new lab assistant is the hottest topic at a council gala. After defending herself all night, an accidental confession leads to tension in the workplace.

❤️pick me up, lily flower by @vieoeil-riae (steb/gn!reader)

summary: your low blood pressure takes you down most literally, but your lovely boyfriend is medically trained and in love with you

steb/mage!reader hcs by @vieoeil-riae

I see you more, more, and more by @vieoeil-riae (steb/gn!reader)

summary: Steb, the romantic

🔥must be dreamin' by @vieoeil-riae (steb/fem!reader)

summary: despite having a strong sense of duty, steb is still as easily distracted by you as he was years ago

🔥take you down with me by @vieoeil-riae (steb/fem!reader)

summary: Both of you think the other might have died in the battle for Piltover, so you get emotional and fuck in a broom closet when you see each other again. Sounds fair, no?

🔥get clean, get dirty by @vieoeil-riae (steb/fem!reader)

summary: in the crescendo of a flirt, you finally push the right buttons to put steb's fantasies of your wet body under his touch in motion

🔥how good it feels by @vieoeil-riae (steb/gn!reader)

summary: the thought of you is enough to make steb break his own unspoken rules

🔥˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎ Il faut être deux... by @neuvilette-tea-party (Steb x F!reader)

summary: You get home, excited to visit the Montains like you are sure Steb does each year for his leave! But when you discover your lover, you realize you're going to climb something different...

Lovesick by @dulcecita-luzita (Steb/Lovesick Reader)

summary: You are utterly, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with Steb.

Lovesick!Steb by @dulcecita-luzita

summary: Steb is consumed by an overwhelming love!

Softie by @dulcecita-luzita (Steb/Softie Architect Reader)

summary: a cool steady architect turns out to be a hopeless softie.

You get injured. by @choas232 (G/N! Reader x Steb)

summary: What was supposed to be a simple club raid goes horribly, horribly wrong.

❤️(eventual🔥)Le Coeur by @moonstrider9904

summary: The owner of a lovely and coveted coffee shop in Piltover falls in love with the Vastayan enforcer who keeps watch in her shop's surroundings.

💀🔥Ma Meilleure Ennemie by @nyxs2 pt2 pt3 pt4

summary: Silco was at his limit. The last few days had been a whirlwind, made worse by Jinx's eccentricities, which Sevika couldn't control. He was exhausted, his nerves on edge, so, as if it were the most obvious solution, one of his subordinates suggested that he relax… in a brothel. The idea was so offensive that Silco almost killed him right there. But in the end, there he was and unfortunately or fortunately you are the lucky one who will serve him.

🔥Sleeping With The Enemy by @grugruel (Silco x reader)

summary: You're a councillors daughter secretly working with the Eye of Zaun, fulfilling each other's needs.

Political needs, of course. It's purely business. They would never be stupid enough to start an affair . . . Unless?

What's Mine by @ro-written (Femme!Reader x sevika)

#fic rec #arcane #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #jayce talis #jayce x reader #steb arcane #steb x reader #silco #silco x reader #jayvik #jayvik x reader

435 notes · View notes

w1w2 · 6 months ago

Text

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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