#miracle hair oil

[tribalblackoil]

The summer can be really unkind to your hair due to excessive heat, humidity and sweat. Getting enough sunlight is good for health, but excessive heat, humidity and exposure to sun can damage your hair. It can make it dry, brittle, dandruff-prone and unmanageable. Hence, adding a good summer hair care regimen becomes very essential during this harsh season.

If you are looking for ways to keep your mane happy this summer, here are few summer hair care tips that you may find helpful.

Screen

Use a hat or scarf to protect the hair from direct sunlight. Hair loses the moisture due to heat and hot wind that may lead to dryness and brittle hair. Covering your head saves you from harmful UV rays as well as protects your scalp from losing the moisture. It also shields the hair from damages caused by hot wind.

Hair Wash

Wash the hair less often as frequent hair wash rips off the hair of its natural oil, which in turn aggravates oil production making it greasy once again. Natural shampoos or homemade shampoos cleanse the hair without striping the natural moisture off making the hair clean and healthy.

Heat Less Often

Blow drying your hair damages the hair root. During summer, forget the use of blowers as your hair is already exposed to summer heat. Air-dry your hair and keep a loose hair style to save it from excess heat and discomfort.

Wide-Tooth Comb

Avoid combing your hair while it is wet as it is that time when it is most prone to breaking. Allow the hair to air-dry before you comb your hair. Unlike brushes which pull and tear hair while working through hair strands, wide-tooth combs gently untangle the hair without pulling thereby preventing breakage and damage.

Conditioning with Oil

After washing your hair, condition it with a natural or herbal oil. Hot oil massage conditions and moisturizes the hair as it penetrates down into hair shaft and deep into the scalp. Herbs have been playing an essential role in hair health since ages. Various herbs in form of oils, masks and powder are used to promote hair growth and prevent hair fall even in harsher weather conditions.

Use of herbal hair oil helps in retaining moisture in your hair without making it greasy.

Herbal Care

Unique herbs such as Kala Agaar, Kala Dana, Kali Musli, Kali Haldi, Bhringraj, Brahmi, Wild Onion Seeds, Jatamansi, Indrayan promote hair growth, enhance volume, and make hair thick and shiny. These herbs work throughout the year no matter what the weather conditions are. Tribal Black Oilis one of such herbal oils that has all the above-mentioned ingredients that promises to keep hair healthy even in this scorching summer.

Summer is the time, which bursts with a lot of outdoor activities. Avoiding excessive sunlight, having healthy and balanced diet and following a holistic lifestyle goes a long way in making one healthy physically, mentally and emotionally. What works for healthy body, works for healthy hair too.

Reference:- https://www.tribalblackoil.com/blog/summer-hair-care-tips.html

[chanrizard]

slapped some rosemary oil on my hair & scalp and now i smell like a succulent barbecue steak 💀

[la-ro-ki]

hello my fellow ballers,,,, i bring you more food in these trying times :]

small junior high miragen edit/redesign

[to0thache]

i feel a possible arcane brainrot approaching..the twinks have bewitched me...and not to mention the women oh my god the women uarghhhhh

[vangoggles]

my long beautiful natural nails broke at the base and i am devastated. i guess now that they're short i can do this obnoxious shade of chartreuse (sally hansen xtreme wear in subway surfer) that would have been too much when they were long. or maybe i'll just go back to black. i think my new regular shade will be sally hansen miracle gel in shock & mauve, which on me is a very demure & very mindful pale pinky nude

[pimentadeacucar]

Pantene Pro v Miracles Queratina Óleo Capilar Milagroso

[issues4him]

Hi hi hiiiii! You should do something where blue collar Rafe comes home from work and is kinda in a crabby mood because of something that happened that day, but then he walks in the front door of his house and can smell a really good dinner cooking and he can hear her emmet talking. He eases up after dinner but is still tired and kinda just softens up and melts right into readers arms while she scratches his head or back or something? Idk lol but please and thank you! I love your stuff!!!

blue collar and burnt out but softened right up by the warmth of his home and the woman he loves

the screen door creaked, hinges groaning under the weight of rafe’s heavy hand as he pushed it open. his boots hit the porch with two dull thuds, slow and dragging. he looked like he’d walked straight out of a dust storm—shirt clinging to his back with sweat, dirt and oil smeared across his forearm, baseball cap pulled low over tired eyes. he was pissed. not at you. not at the kids. just the kind of day that left his jaw tight and his shoulders locked from the second the sun came up. broken machinery. lazy crew. his foreman bitching about timelines like rafe could wring miracles from dirt. so yeah, he was in a mood.

he stepped inside, and the first thing he noticed, wasn’t the toy dump truck in the hallway or the trail of wren’s dress-up beads scattered across the hardwood. it was the smell. garlic, butter, and something rich and slow-cooked. something warm. something homemade. his stomach growled loudly, aching for food. then a sweet little voice broke through his ears.

“mama, can i stir it now?” emmett called from the kitchen.

wren babbled something in return, a sing-song sound that bounced off the walls as she clumsily knocked something over. and then, your voice. sweet. soft. steady. “not yet, baby. let it bubble just a little more.”

rafe stood there for a moment, boots still planted by the door, fists still clenched. he could feel it—all the tension in his back, the tightness in his temples, the way the whole damn day had wrapped around him like a vice. then he exhaled. the air in the house smelled like comfort. sounded like peace. felt like home. he walked through the hallway slowly, one hand reaching up to adjust his cap. his boots left faint prints on the floor, and he didn’t care. he’d clean it tomorrow.

as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes landed on the scene: you were at the stove, stirring something thick and creamy in a pot, hair up in a loose bun, that soft worn t-shirt of his hanging off your shoulder. emmett was standing on a step stool beside you, clutching a wooden spoon like it was a sword. wren sat in her high chair, legs kicking as she played with a half-eaten roll. rafe didn’t say anything. just leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and watched. you glanced up and smiled. “oh—hi, baby.”

he tried to answer, but his voice cracked a little, so he just nodded and stepped further in. the food was plated ten minutes later. the four of you sat around the little table in the corner of the kitchen, the one with the chipped paint on the legs and crayon marks etched into the wood. emmett talked nonstop, proudly telling rafe how he helped “stir the whole thing without spilling once,” and wren kept giggling between bites, her fingers sticky and her face smeared with something orange. rafe listened, nodded, even chuckled once or twice, but he was still quiet. still a little stiff. still carrying the weight of the day in his shoulders, in the lines around his eyes.

after dinner, you bathed the kids while rafe rinsed the dishes, hands working on autopilot. you carried wren off to bed, her body warm and heavy against your chest, and emmett soon followed with his usual protests that faded the second his head hit the pillow.

when you came back down, the house was quiet. the dishes were done. the stove wiped clean. the lights turned low. rafe was sitting on the couch in the living room, elbows on his knees, hat tossed onto the cushion beside him, one hand scrubbing over his face. you walked over slowly, sitting on the coffee table in front of him, between his knees. your hand reached up, fingers combing gently through his messy hair, your other hand resting on his thigh. he melted. just like that. his body slumped forward, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, pulling you close, like he needed to breathe you in to stay grounded.

you scratched lightly at the back of his head, your nails trailing through his hair, and his grip tightened around you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

“i had a real shit day,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and hoarse.

“i know,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “i could tell the second you walked in.”

he huffed out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. but then he went quiet again. his face stayed pressed against your collarbone, his breathing even but heavy. you scratched down his back this time, slow, rhythmic.

“but you’re home now,” you murmured. “you can let it go.”

he didn’t say anything. just held on a little tighter. and that was enough.

[beautyfineshopparis]

African Pride Shea Butter Miracle Growth Oil.

[lookingjoligood]

Review of OGX Extra Strength Damage Remedy + Coconut Miracle Oil Penetrating Oil

I recently stumbled upon a true miracle in a bottle – OGX Extra Strength Damage Remedy + Coconut Miracle Oil Penetrating Oil. This product has been an absolute game-changer for my hair. With its heavenly coconut scent and luxurious formula, it has become an essential part of my daily beauty routine. Allow me to share my experience and provide you with all the details you need to know about this…

[adventremnant]

beauty tips to look less like you're actively dying

now of course, if you're following my nutrition tips, you should mitigate the living corpse appearance anyways, but here's makeup, skin, hair, and nail options to keep up the appearance of a normal person

Skin: Using a silicone scrubbie, take off makeup and wash face with an oil cleanser, then wash again with a regular gel cleanser. In the morning, vitamin C serum and then a day cream containing retinol and spf. At night, just petroleum jelly. Cerave sells all of these for cheap and they're recommended by my dermatologist. Use the petroleum jelly on your lips, too. During the day, use carmex chapstick religiously. For your body, use exfoliating body wash and exfoliating gloves. Naturium glycolic acid body wash and bio-lipid lotion are my holy grails. Makeup: You want to look dewy and rested. No matte makeup, it'll settle into your dry skin and you'll look worse. Start with Covergirl trublend in plush plump (or the greenish one if you have redness) to give off the appearance of plumper skin and prime your face. Assuming you have dark circles, you want an undereye brightener. I like Catrice's, you could also layer this over l'oreal's anti-fatigue magic skin beautifier if your dark circles are really bad. No heavy foundation - go for a bb cream. L'oreal magic skin or, my personal fave, wet n wild bare focus skin tint. For blush, avoid pink or peach - you want a shade that'll look natural. Most makeup artists use a red or a berry. If you wear red or berry lipsticks, just use lipstick as your blush, that's what I do with my clinique black honey (which is a great shade for this if you have olive skin). If you're going for red, a great, cheaper option for this would be sheglam colorbloom liquid blush or simply your lipstick like I said. Another berry option that's cheaper than my clinique would be something like wet n wild in my blackberry broke. You'll want a glassy, not powdery highlighter. This can be l'oreal lumiglotion, wet n wild radiance liquid, or an actual highlighter like l'oreal lumi le glass. For powder, just powder your t zone very gently with something like elf halo glow or the catrice blurring loose powder. Do your eye makeup and eyebrows however you want, though I personally recommend learning how to do them properly for your face shape and "animal face type" and learn your color season so everything harmonizes. Set everything down with Milani make it last dewy setting spray. Hair: It needs moisture and volume. A good cheap option is Pacifica salty waves if you don't color your hair and coco peptides if you do. Do a big deep conditioning treatment once a week. marc anthony grow long, l'oreal elvive, or pantene miracle rescue are all good options. Consider oiling your hair, too. research how to do it and what oil to use for your specific hair type. Use a mousse for volume - pacifica makes one that smells like vanilla. You'll scrunch this into your hair when it's soaking wet after your shower. Spritz with a sea salt spray after - ouai is the best, but it's pricy, so feel free to use pacifica's for this as well. Make sure also to trim your dead ends and get a flattering haircut that isn't flat - it'll be easier to hide any thinning with layers, and you won't get the stringy anorexia look. Nails: Get a nail oil, a cuticle remover, and keep your nails trimmed and cleaned, then start wearing press ons (or get gel tips if you can afford it). Bliss kiss nail oil pens are a great option, blue cross cuticle remover, and kiss are cheap, solid press ons. I like the medium length square french, but I was also born in the 90s.

[softaestluv]

Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! reader

Tags: dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, blue collar worker, yeah I’ll take one of those! you own a pick up, & I actually don’t know anything about cars, eventual smut

Pt . 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Ao3

Contrary to popular belief, you weren’t completely daft when it came to cars. There were a handful of things you could do, as simple as they might be. You knew how to change a flat tire, how to change your oil, the oil filter and air filter. Even knew how to change the bulbs in your headlights— yours had gone out more than once.

Kept up with basic maintenance, topped off all fluids when necessary, rotated your tires, visited a shop when needed.

Though, the piece of shit pick-up you owned seemed to have more problems than one. Sticks on wheels, lemon of a vehicle, engine light flashing more often than not. You were quite exhausted from all the maintenance, worked too hard to keep staining your clothes in grease and ruining your manicured nails.

A pretty thing like yourself shouldn’t be doing such hard work, but you put entirely too much time into the old truck for price gauging and scamming mechanics to stereotype you— a woman, naive.

Simple.

Maybe you had been lucky when you stumbled across ‘Ghost’s Garage’ and the mechanic was anything but, even if his shop was a rundown brick building on its last leg. Old, dinky, mortar deteriorating, cracks and chips in the bricks. It was honestly a miracle it was still standing, but he worked in auto-motives after all, not construction.

Maybe you were a little biased when the mechanic seemed to walk out of a Men’s Health magazine.

Blonde hair, white t-shirt hugging his biceps, coveralls low on his hips, grease stained arms and fingertips, tattoos curled over his ridiculously tanned skin. It was almost cliche the way he approached you, dirty rag pressed to his forehead, wiping the sweat that dripped down his temples before using the same rag to clean the grease off his fingers.

“What can I do for ya?” He asked with shallow breaths, thick accent twined around each word.

You swallowed thickly, “My oil, I just need my oil changed.”

He raised his brow, gesturing to your blue truck in the service drive, “This your C10 right ‘ere?”

You nod, “That’s me.”

“Y’can sit in my office if you want, ‘ts hot out here. Shouldn’t be long.” He explained, pointing to a small room in the corner of the shop.

It was a typical mechanics office, small, a little dirty. Papers scattered across the desk and floor, plain beige walls, spare parts thrown in a corner. One frame on the edge of the desk, a picture of him and three other men, one of which he’s not really smiling in, just a slight lift to the corner of his lips.

You’re quite grateful that he let you sit in his office rather than being stuck in the summer sun; it was hot, scorching. Even the shorts and t-shirt you wore clung uncomfortably to your skin, thighs pressed tacky to the leather chair.

Despite the fact that it’s a bit too stuffy, a bit too cluttered, you don’t entirely mind. Not when it gives you a perfect view of the mechanic bent over the hood of your truck through the rooms only window.

Now you could really look at him, appreciate the absolute hulking mammoth of a man he is. Burly, brawny, sinewy, can’t even begin to think of all the adjectives to describe him.

Sweat drips down his thick neck, over broad shoulders, and around stout biceps, accentuates each dip and curve of his beefy muscles. It soaks his white shirt wet, makes it cling to his back and abdomen, displays every defined contraction of muscles.

Makes your body burn hot.

You feel like an absolute pervert, mouth salivating at the sight of a mechanic changing your oil. Maybe there was truth behind loving a man in a uniform, even if it was dirty, filthy, soiled, and half off.

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

It isn’t long, less than 10 minutes, and meanwhile you appreciate the efficiency, a part of you is a little disappointed at the loss of the show.

“All set for you.” He says once he enters the room.

You jump up, “Ah, thank you so much!”

“Nice ol’ thing, ‘aven’t worked on one of ‘em before,” He compliments, zipping up the rest of his coveralls— ‘Simon’ printed on a pocket patch.

You laugh, real low from your chest, “That’s what you think. Just wait ‘til I come back next week cause the engine light came on.”

Simon chuckles, “No worries, bring it t’me for whatever you need.”

“Depends on how much you’re charging me for today’s services,” You joke, rummaging through your bag for your wallet.

“‘ts on the house,” He responds, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against his desk.

“What? No, I didn’t mean like that,” You stammer, shaking your head, “I’ll pay you.”

Simon just shrugs his shoulders, “Just be back for your next oil change.”

Your smile is wide, “I’ll see you in a couple thousand miles then.”

✦.─Masterlist ─.✦

[luvst4rc0r3]

“Smudged Mascara & Stolen Kisses”

Jinx x GN!Reader

WC: 393

NOTE: Just Jinx doing ur makeup

Jinx had never been one for sitting still, so the fact that she was perched on your lap, legs crossed like a mischievous little gremlin, was already a miracle. A miracle further compounded by the fact that she was holding a half-dried tube of mascara and insisting—no, demanding—to do your makeup.

“Hold still, toots,” she hummed, nose scrunched in concentration. “You move, I poke your eye out. Then you’d have to wear an eyepatch, and people might start calling you ‘Pirate Queen’ or somethin’.” She gasped, grin splitting her face. “Actually, that’d be kinda hot.”

You laughed, trying not to blink as she dragged the mascara wand dangerously close to your lashes. “I feel like you’re the least qualified person to be doing this.”

“Wow,” she drawled, feigning offense. “I am exceptionally qualified in the arts of beauty and destruction, thank you very much. And considering you’re letting me do this, I’d say you’re in no place to judge.”

Fair point.

You sighed, resigning yourself to your fate. Jinx, with her usual chaotic energy, had already smeared some eyeliner across your lids with all the precision of a toddler with finger paint. But the way she was looking at you—bottom lip tucked between her teeth, eyes dancing with amusement and something softer—you couldn’t really complain.

“There! Finished!” she declared, dropping the mascara somewhere behind her with zero regard for its well-being. “Lemme see my masterpiece!”

You turned your face, and she gasped dramatically, hands flying to her chest like she was witnessing a work of art. “Oh, babe, you look gorgeous.”

“Do I really?” you teased.

“Absolutely.” She squinted, then leaned in close, close enough that you could smell gunpowder and the faintest hint of oil in her hair. “I mean, your eyeliner’s a little… uh, abstract. But I like it. Gives ya character.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything, she was cupping your face, tilting it just so.

“Hmm,” she mused. “Somethin’s missin’.”

You barely had time to register her words before she was kissing you, lips pressing against yours with the same reckless enthusiasm she did everything else. It was quick, playful—a stolen moment wrapped in the scent of gunpowder and smudged mascara.

When she pulled away, she grinned, all teeth and trouble.

“There,” she murmured, thumb swiping over your lip like she was fixing something. “Perfect.”

Y’all this is so short bc I wrote it in class

I want sleep

[w1w2]

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.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Highway Heat

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the trucker you flag down offers more than just roadside assistance.

A/N: Lord oh lord… I tried to be good i swear, i really tried to behave. The thing is my sweet beta reader @hautecouture02 requested a little roadside encounter one shot with Joel, specifically asking for FLUFF, and i swear on everything holy I tried my best to keep it PG… but sometimes things don’t go as I planned. So here, take this absolute filth of a one shot that’s little more than PWOP. ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: As previously stated, this is pretty much PWOP, Trucker!Joel i know nothing about trucks lol, maybe some dub!con at first but the internal dialogue shows hella consent, groping, fingering, a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, pet names like so many of them im not gonna list them all almost too many pet names if you believe in such a thing, grinding, oral male receiving, deep throating

Masterlist

You’re a good person—hell, a great person even. You give your spare change to homeless people, you donate to the puppy shelter every once in a while, you hold your friend’s hair back when they’re throwing up in the back of the club. You’re definitely not the type of person who deserves to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, sweating buckets despite wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap tank and the tiniest pair of shorts you own. This feels like some kind of cosmic punishment.

It is, undoubtedly, the worst possible time for your car to stop working. You’d been putting off the usual checkups on your car for months, knowing full well it was overdue for an oil change, a tire rotation—or whatever men who know their way around a toolbox always say. Your ex used to handle all of that for you, always acting like it was his job to make sure your car ran smoothly. He was that kind of guy who would go out of his way to make your life easier—didn’t mean he was above cheating though.

So now, you’re stuck in your geriatric Honda Civic, the AC busted and the engine refusing to start.

After a few minutes of trying to will it back to life, it’s clear you’re stranded.

You step out of the car, and the heat hits you like a goddamn slap to the face. The road’s deserted, no signs of life for miles, and of course, your phone has no signal. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. You glance down the road, hoping for a miracle, when you spot the rough outline of a truck—a big one, maybe a sixteen-wheeler—coming up in the distance.

Relief washes over you for about two seconds before your brain kicks in, running through every horror movie scenario. But it’s not like you’ve got a buffet of options, so you throw up your hand, waving the truck down as it rolls closer.

It’s a beat-up old thing, paint chipped and covered in dust, but it comes to a slow stop right behind your car. The door creaks open, and out steps a man.

He’s tall, broad, with a face lined with age and tan from long days under the sun. The net cap he wears lets a few of his longer dark curls peek out, the front pieces overpowered by graying hair. He sports a faded plaid shirt and jeans, a pair of well-worn boots kicking up dust as he steps toward you. His dark, intense eyes size you up like you’re part of the landscape he’s used to navigating.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” His voice is deep and gravelly, but the drawl is the star of the show, thick and sweet like honey.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Car broke down. Won’t start. No service either.”

He nods slowly, like this is exactly the kind of situation he expects to find out here. “Well, good thing I’m passin’ through.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at that, but desperation makes you bite your tongue. “Think you could take a look?”

He stares at you for a moment, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to offer any help at all. But then he lets out a low sigh, scratches the back of his neck, and walks over to your car, popping the hood like it’s second nature.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of him tinkering under the hood, the occasional grunt or muttered curse as he checks things out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling the heat bearing down on you, watching as beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck.

Finally, he steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit’s runnin’ on fumes. When’s the last time you had it serviced?””

You shift, feeling stupid. “A while. My ex used to handle it, and, uh… I’ve been busy.”

He gives you a look, something between amusement and pity, before shaking his head. He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I can tow you to a shop in the next town, but it gon’ be a ride.”

You blink up at him, surprised at his offer. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, with a shrug, “I’m headin’ that way anyway.”

He moves back to his truck, grabbing a few chains and a tow hitch from the back. Within minutes, he’s hooking up your beat-up Honda Civic to the rear of his truck, working with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

“You sure this is safe?” you ask, watching him as he tightens the last chain.

“As safe as it’s gonna get,” he replies with a shrug, brushing the dust from his hands. “Ain’t no mechanic shop out here, so this’ll do ‘til we get to the next town.”

You hesitate, then eye him. “You’re not gonna, like, chop me up and throw me in a ditch, are you?”

He chuckles at that, a nice gravely sound. “If I was, don’t think I’d tell ya, sugar. But no, I ain’t in the business of chopping people up.”

You look at him for a bit longer before sighing. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He turns, heading back to his truck, his broad back facing you and making it a hell of a lot harder to concentrate

“Name’s Joel, by the way,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say, stepping up into the truck’s cab, the cool air from his AC hitting you like a blessing. Maybe your luck hasn’t run out just yet.

You sink back into the seat as he climbs up on his side of the cab, letting the icy air wash over you. There’s something else prickling at your senses though—something that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s him.

Joel’s glances are obvious, a little too long, lingering like he’s sizing you up. Normally, it’d make you roll your eyes, maybe even tell him off. Old guy like him eyeing you up is nothing you’re unfamiliar with. But today? With the way your body feels sticky and tired, and the way the breakup has left you all out of sorts… you’re almost enjoying it.

You’ve been craving attention and the shitty one night stands with guys from dating apps have done nothing to satiate that need. It’s been months since anyone has touched you and that rational part of your brain that would be yelling at you to be aware of the sleazy old trucker who just picked you off of the side of the road is sounding real quiet right now.

“So…” His voice pulls you from your thoughts as he shifts in his seat, resting one hand lazily on the wheel. “Where you headed?”

You hesitate, eyes on the road ahead. “Just… trying to get home.”

He hums, slow and deliberate. “Home, huh? Got anyone waitin’ on you there? Boyfriend?”

The word slices through you, sharper than you expected. You tighten your jaw, glancing out the window. “No. Not anymore.”

Joel makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “Well, ain’t that a shame. Pretty thing like you, all alone.”

You should hate the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker toward you like he’s just waiting for an opening. But instead, there’s a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, your pulse picking up in a way you’re not proud of. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs like it’ll somehow tamp down the growing tension in your body. He doesn’t miss it, his smirk growing a little wider.

“That line work on most girls?” you quip, trying to keep things light.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Depends on the girl. But you look a little… flustered.”

Your cheeks heat up, and it’s not just the sun this time. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure about that, darlin’?”

You glare at the open road, biting your lip as you try to ignore the way his words are messing with your head—and your body. It’s been way too long since anyone’s looked at you like this. Really looked at you.

The silence stretches out as the truck rumbles along the deserted road. You try to focus on anything but the tension in the air and find it’s impossible. His presence feels inescapable, it fills the cab wrapping around you, pressing down on every nerve.

“You never told me,” Joel says after a while, breaking the quiet. “Where’s home?”

“Texas,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier now. “But I’m not in any rush to get back.”

“Family trouble?” he asks, his eyes flicking toward you again.

“Something like that,” you mutter. “It’s complicated.”

He hums in response. “Don’t I know it.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, catching Joel watching you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers a little too long on your bare thighs, and there’s a flicker of something dark passing over his face, but he says nothing.

You want to ignore it—God, you should ignore it—especially since you’re stuck with him for a while longer. But the rising heat in your body and the quickening pulse beneath your skin make it hard to think straight, harder still to make good decisions.

So you bite.

“You gonna keep staring, or is this part of your charm routine?” You cock a brow, trying to ignore the way warmth crawls up your neck.

A slow smirk curls at his lips, but he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans in closer, his hand resting just near your leg, making the air between you buzz. “You think I’m layin’ it on too thick?”

“Little bit,” you quip back, though your voice betrays you with how soft it comes out. You bite your lip, trying to stay sharp, but his eyes flick down to the movement, and the pulsing need low in your stomach tightens. “It’s not working, though.”

His smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Funny. Seems to me it’s workin’ just fine.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way your heart races when he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your leg. The touch is light, almost casual, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can roll your eyes all you want, doll. It don’t change the fact I can see what you need, clear as day,” he purrs, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you snap back, though your words lack the heat you want them to have.

“Little bit of attention.”

He reads you too well. It drives you insane. “I don’t need anything from you. Just get me where I need to go.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That so? ’Cause the way you’ve been shiftin’ in that seat says otherwise.”

You bristle at his words, but the truth sticks like a thorn. There’s a reason you haven’t told him to stop, a reason you haven’t shut this down. You’re tired, frustrated, and the way his eyes keep grazing over you… you can’t stop wondering how easy it’d be to let him pull you under, to let him take all your worries away.

“You’re losing it, old man,” you shoot back, even though you know it’s a losing game. He sees right through you, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna make it easy.

“Am I?” he purrs, his hand sliding up to rest fully on your thigh. “So, you don’t want me touching you like this, darlin’?”

The way he says it—slow, deliberate, laced with that sweet, thick accent—it’s all innocence, even though everything about it screams otherwise. You know you’ll be hearing that “darlin’” in your head later, when you’re playing with yourself.

You smirk, giving him a little more rope. “I didn’t say that.”

He hums, eyes flicking between the road and your legs. “And I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t say a word if I moved my hand higher, would you?”

Your legs part just slightly, almost like an instinct. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But not to Joel.

“Look at you,” he drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his lips. “Already makin’ it easier for me.”

You’re about to fire back, ready to keep this banter rolling, when his fingers slide higher. A soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“You ready to stop actin’ up, or we still playin’ cat and mouse, pretty girl?” His eyes lock on yours, dark and unwavering.

Your pulse quickens at the challenge in his voice, your breath catching in your throat. His fingers are still on your thigh, warm and rough, and it’s messing with your head. You know you should stop this now, make him pull his hand back, but you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’m not acting up,” you murmur, trying to hold on to some sense of control, even though his touch is making that damn near impossible.

His grin widens, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “Mhm, sure you ain’t.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Pathetic, really, and the worst part is he knows it. He knows how to get under your skin even though he has known you for half an hour, knows exactly what buttons to push to unravel you just enough to keep you hanging on.

“I mean it,” you snap, though your voice wavers. His hand shifts slightly on your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make your stomach twist into knots.

“I wanna believe you,” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that vibrates through you, all the way down to where you’re aching for him to touch you. He leans in a little more, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and something dark and intoxicating. “But you keep lettin’ me touch you. Kinda sends a different message, don’t you think?”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the steady rhythm of it loud in your ears. You don’t know how to answer, don’t know if you want to answer. Every rational thought in your head is telling you to stop, but your body isn’t listening.

Instead, you shift slightly, your leg pressing into his hand, just enough to encourage him to keep going. His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips.

“Thought so,” he mutters, and then his fingers start to move again, sliding higher, testing the boundaries you haven’t set.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sigh that’s clawing its way up your throat, but it slips through anyway. He hears it, of course he does, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes makes your face flush with heat.

“You wanna tell me to stop, now’s your chance,” he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying an edge of challenge, like he knows damn well you’re not going to.

His gaze shifts between the road and you and it almost seems like every time those eyes are back on you they become darker.

You glance at him, your heart in your throat, and there’s that flicker of hesitation—you should say something, should stop this before it goes any further—but the way his fingers are brushing higher, dangerously close to the ache between your legs, makes it impossible to think straight.

So you just meet his gaze, and you don’t say a word.

His smirk grows, and his hand drifts even higher. “Good girl.” This time he fully gropes your thigh, groaning like he’s been waiting to unleash this. “You wanna take these off for me, sweetheart? Let me give you as much attention as you want.”

He must have some psychic hold on you because you follow his instructions with no hesitation this time. Your fingers eagerly unbotton your shorts and pull the zipper down, lifting your hips to shimmy them down.

He looks at you for a lot longe than he should taking into account he’s currently driving a beast of a vehicle. “Lord above… you’re a sight and a half, darlin’”

He goes back to massaging your thigh, making circles with his thick fingers, going each time higher. Once he reaches your panties he stops and just rests his hand there, right at the edge of where you want him most. His fingers teasingly brush the fabric, enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t go any further.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it,” he rasps, his voice thick with something darker now. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

His words are like a key turning in a lock, and your resistance crumbles. You can’t deny it anymore, not when his hand is right there, so close to what you need, your entire body burning up under his touch.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice almost pleading now, barely more than a breath.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand pressing a little more firmly, his fingers tracing along the outline of your heat through the fabric. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Your breath stutters, and your hips shift on their own, pressing into his hand. You’re barely hanging on, the tension between you two crackling like a live wire, but he’s still holding back, waiting for you to give in completely.

“Please…” you finally manage, the word spilling out before you can stop it. It’s humiliating and liberating all at once.

“Please what?”

You let out the shadow of a moan. “Please touch me.”

Joel’s hand slips under the fabric, his fingers finally finding your core, and the groan that escapes him sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. “Good girl,” he breathes, his voice like gravel as his fingers start to move in slow, torturous circles.

Your head falls back against the seat, a whimper escaping your lips as he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. “Jesus, Joel…”

“Feels good, huh?” he rasps, his eyes flicking from the road to you, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every motion of his hand. “Told you I know exactly what you need, baby.”

You’re melting under his touch, your body humming with the pressure of his fingers moving against you, his voice guiding you deeper into the haze of pleasure. You’re not even sure what’s more intoxicating—the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you, that low, commanding tone unraveling you completely.

“That’s it, sweetness, grind on my fingers, make that little pussy feel good” Joel growls, having a harder time keeping his eyes on the road now.

“Fuck… that feels you good da-“ you stop yourself before you’re able to finish the word. Your ex didn’t like you calling him that, so you usually kept that particular kink under wraps, but something about Joel is making it surface back up.

He looks up at you, pupils blown out. “Say it… say wha you wanna say baby.”

You lose all restraint and moan loudly. “It feels so good, daddy.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He moans “Daddy’s fingers make your pretty cunt fucking drip don’t they?”

His words send a wave of pleasure through your body, a mixture of shame and intense arousal surging in your chest. You’re too far gone to stop now, letting the haze of lust pull you under completely.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. “So fucking wet.”

Joel’s fingers move faster, rough and skilled, coaxing you into a rhythm that has you arching your back against the seat. His other hand grips the wheel tight, knuckles white, and you can tell he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, but that only makes it hotter.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “Been wantin’ to ruin you since the minute you sat your pretty ass in this truck.”

The vulgarity, the way he talks to you—it should feel wrong, but instead, it’s like gasoline thrown on the fire already burning inside you. You grind down harder on his fingers, chasing the high he’s offering, the tension building fast in your core.

You glance over at him, his jaw tight, eyes darting between the road and you, and there’s something so filthy about the way he’s trying to keep it together while driving, the way his control is slipping. You want to push him, make him lose it completely.

“You’re losing it too,” you pant, breathless, pushing your hips into his hand. “Can’t even keep your eyes on the road, can you?”

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and predatory. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll pull this truck over.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re right on the edge, your body strung tight as a bow, every nerve lit up under his touch.

“Do it,” you challenge, voice breathless and wrecked.

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his hand gripping your thigh so hard it almost hurts. Without another word, he swerves the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulls into a secluded spot off the highway.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the arousal as he throws the truck into park and turns to face you fully. The look in his eyes is feral, like he’s done holding back, and you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“Such a little attention whore, baby,” he growls, unbuckling his seatbelt with one hand, the other still teasing you between your legs. “I’m all yours now.”

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the weight of his hard length pressing against you through his jeans. He is big, a lot bigger than you expected and it makes your mouth water,almost like your body is showing you how badly you need him in a million and one ways.

His hands grip your hips possessively, eyes locking with yours as if daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate. You grind down on him, both of you letting out low moans at the contact. The friction sends sparks flying up your spine, and you can already tell this is about to be the kind of reckless, dirty, no-going-back encounter you’ve both been craving.

Joel’s hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you down to feast on your neck. His lips trail down, biting at the sensitive skin there, and it’s too much, too intense. You feel like you’re going to combust right here in his arms.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your skin, one hand slipping between you to push your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick heat again. “Filthy little slut, letting a stranger put his fingers inside you. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

Your hips buck against him, the promise of release so close you can taste it. “Fuck, Joel, please…”

“Try again. You know better.” his tone is firm and commanding, all the previous playfulness gone.

“Please daddy, let me come”

“That’s it,” he groans, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you right to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel this tight little whole clench on my fingers.”

The way he says it with such authority, has you unraveling in his lap, your entire body trembling as you come hard against his hand. Your vision goes white, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Joel watches you, his eyes hooded and hungry, soaking in every second of your release. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until you’re shaking from the aftershocks, your body limp and boneless against him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied as he finally pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re still catching your breath, head buzzing from the intensity, but the way his hardness presses against you makes it clear you’re far from done. It’s not like those other times when finishing a guy felt like an obligation, when the effort barely felt worth it because they didn’t take the time to get you there first. But Joel? Joel made you come so hard you can’t help but want to return the favor. It’s not a chore—it’s something you crave.

“My turn,” you murmur, fingers already working at the button of his jeans.

His grip tightens on your hips, eyes darkening as he watches your hands move, but there’s a flicker of restraint. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Can’t have this beast of a truck just parked in the middle of the road.”

You shift back onto your own seat, lifting your leg off his lap to give yourself the space you need. The desire to make him feel just as wrecked as you burns in your chest, so you lean down, your gaze steady on his as your fingers trail lower.

“You can drive,” you say, voice low, teasing. “I’m not stopping you.”

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his jaw ticking like he’s fighting with himself. For a second, you think he’s going to tell you to stop, but then he huffs out a breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “You’re trouble.”

You smile up at him as you feel him start the engine again, your hand slipping lower, teasing him through his jeans.

Joel’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he tries to focus on the road, but you can tell he’s losing the battle.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tries to keep his cool, but you can see right through it. The way his body is responding to your touch, the way he’s barely holding it together, it only spurs you on.

You undo his jeans and pull the zipper down, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath stutters, and his hand slips to grip the side of the seat, trying to ground himself as you free him from the confines of his jeans.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling how hard he is, how thick, and the groan that escapes his lips sends a thrill through you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flicking between the road and you, his control slipping more by the second.

You lower your head, your lips grazing his tip, and Joel’s entire body tenses. His hips buck up, instinctively searching for more, and you can’t help but smirk as you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, his hand instinctively flying to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

But even as he says it, there’s no hint of him wanting you to stop. He keeps urging you on in slow, measured strokes. The tension in him is palpable, and you can feel the way his control is fraying with every flick of your tongue, every inch you take him deeper.

His breathing grows ragged, and he glances down at you, eyes dark with heat and disbelief. “You’re so pretty with a fat cock stuffed in your mouth baby, look at you ”

You hum around him, the vibration making his hips jerk again, and the low groan that rips from his throat sends a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through you. He’s unraveling, right in front of you, and you’re loving every second of it.

You pick up the pace, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth, and Joel’s growl turns guttural, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Right there, darlin’ girl, don’t stop…” he hisses, head tipping back slightly as his hips move in time with your rhythm, chasing the release that’s so damn close.

His eyes flick between the road and you, pupils blown, struggling to stay on course even as his focus is being torn apart by you.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last if you keep—” He cuts himself off with a harsh groan, his hips bucking again, muscles taut and trembling as he loses the last shred of his composure. He’s completely at your mercy now, and it’s making him wild, his control slipping fast.

You don’t let up, your hand dropping lower to play with his balls, and he’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close. His breath comes in ragged bursts, and his body tightens under you, his hips jerking harder, more desperate now.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

Instead of answering you take him deeper down your throat, your nose burrowing in the dark curls at the base of his cock, his smell so musky and intoxicating it makes you dizzy.

“Shit, shit—” Joel’s voice is a strangled growl, and then you feel him pulse in your mouth, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he finally comes undone. He’s barely holding onto the wheel, the truck swerving just enough to make your heart race, but it’s clear he’s past caring. He spills hot and hard into your mouth, the sound of his release drowned out by the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

You keep going, milking him for every last bit, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breathing ragged and uneven. When you finally pull away, he’s still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. His eyes flick down to you, wild and wide, before darting back to the road. He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up, that’s for damn sure.”

As if on cue, the truck finally pulls into the shop, the hum of the engine fading, the weight of what just happened still hung thick between you two. Joel cuts the ignition, his hand lingering on the key for a beat too long, like he wasn’t quite ready to step back into reality. He realizes his now soft cock is still out and starts to zip himself back up.

You try to gather yourself, smoothing your clothes and brushing a hand through your hair as if it’d erase everything that had gone down on that highway. You can tell it’s gonna stick with you for a good while longer though.

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at you with a look that was somehow both satisfied and conflicted. "Well, we’re here," he mutters, but his hand was already fishing in his back pocket for something. "Here." He hands you a crumpled business card, his name scrawled across it with a number underneath. "In case you run into any more car trouble or, y'know... anything else."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows damn well this had nothing to do with the rugged old thing and everything to do with the heat still simmering between you. You take the card, trying to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

"Thanks," you reply, pocketing it casually, though the way your heart raced gave you away. "For… you know, all of it."

He just gives you that signature look of his—half-smirk, half-smolder—and with that, you slide out of the truck, legs still feeling like jelly as you walked away. You didn't even need to turn around to know his eyes were glued to your retreating figure.

[vampire-matcha]

Thinking about Mechanics!141 and fem reader with a shitbox car (totally not me). You're in there every three to four weeks with something going wrong with your death trap of a car. The boys aren't sabotaging your car or anything. They don't need to. Your car is just that bad. It's a miracle it hasn't killed you yet. You're trying to save up for a newer car, but your shitbox keeps burning a hole in your wallet with every light blinking on your dashboard. It's to the point that the boys recognize you as soon as you walk into the shop. They hear the bell ring and they just know it's you again.

(Contains: sex as payment, oral sex/blowjob, fingering/masturbation) but of a different style from BitW but enjoy. Not proofread :p

"What is it now?" Price asks, wiping the motor oil from his hands on a greasy rag. You're already looping the key fob off your keychains.

"It's shaking whenever I get above 45."

"What part of the car is shaking?" He asks, pulling up your information on the computer.

"All of it," you say, slapping the key onto the counter with a huff. Price gives you a sympathetic look.

"Darling, you should really get yourself something more reliable," he tells you. You sigh and lean your elbows on the counter. His eyes glance down to your chest and the low-cut shirt you were wearing.

"I'm trying, Price," you say with a little more attitude than you intended. "It's impossible to save money when everything goes back into this fucking car!" You run your hands over your face. "I'm gonna die in that thing," you mutter, only half-joking. Price stops typing for a moment, thinking to himself.

"What if we could work something out?" He asks tentatively. You look up at him to see him already staring you down.

"Like... a loyalty discount?" You try to clarify. Surely he didn't mean...

"I was thinking something more along the lines of... an alternative method of payment." He leans against the counter in front of you, his face close to yours. He smelled like what you'd expect: motor oil and engine grease and musky, manly sweat. "Something under-the-table..." Your heart skipped a beat at the double-meaning of his words, allowing him just enough plausible deniability if you chose to not accept. You swallowed hard.

"What do you have in mind?" You ask softly, your heart pounding in your chest, and with how hard Price was staring at your cleavage, you think maybe he could see it. You reach a hand out to stoke a finger along his arm, feeling the coarse hair all over it. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"I think I have something in the back office that might work. Follow me and I'll show you."

It wasn't that you were totally desperate. Well, you were. This car had cost you thousands more than it was worth and you needed to save any penny you could when it came to it. But you wouldn't have followed just any mechanic into the rinky-dink office at the back of the auto shop. This was John Price. And he was all man.

"You want that discount, you're gonna have to work for it."

Broad shoulders tapering into a narrower waist, but still lined with the perfect ratio of hearty muscle and soft belly, all leading down to an alluring bulge and plump ass, and finally, those thick, beefy thighs. Not to mention his hands: thick, strong, and calloused from years of hard manual labor, and forearms and biceps that twisted and flexed underneath his button-down work shirt.

He holds the door open for you, his body crowding you into the tight space. The office is more of an oversized closet with a desk and an old computer. He closes the door behind you both and settles himself into the rickety office chair, which creaks under his weight. He sits with his legs spread and his hands on his thighs and gestures for you to come closer.

You kneel between his legs and he smirks, adjusting his hips in the chair while you work open his belt. He lets you open his trousers for him but pushes them down for you so his semi-hard cock can spring free. He sighs when you take it into your hand, stroking him to full hardness.

He isn't much of a moaner, you didn't expect him to be, but his chest puffs as you take the tip into your mouth and suck on it lightly. Your hand moves up and down his shaft slowly, your fingers moving to meet your lips. You lick around the head and push the tip of your tongue into his slit, making his hips jerk lightly.

You close your eyes, letting yourself fully focus on his cock, letting desire and submissiveness take over your mind as you work to please him on your knees. You take him deeper into your mouth, widening your jaw and rocking your mouth side to side to fit him farther down. Your other hand slides up his thick, meaty thigh to massage his balls while you find yourself in a gentle rhythm. You bob your head, going down just far enough, but not enough to gag you, and sucking hard on the way up as your hand holds and twists the base. You melt onto him, the feeling of him in your mouth quieting your mind, leaving any thought of hesitancy far, far behind. All you need is John Price's dick in your mouth, and you think you could reach enlightenment between his thighs.

You barely register the fact that you're moaning around him until he's teasing you for it.

"Yeah? You like this, don't you? Letting me drag you to the back of the shop to suck my cock like the little whore you are." You whimpered at the filthy words he was spitting down at you. "Knew you would- the boys and I- knew you'd like us usin' you like this," he says with a grunt as he watches your eyes roll back. "Go on and touch yourself for me, dear."

You let go of his balls and quickly open your pants to sneak your hand inside. Your pussy is soaked, your fingers gliding through your lips with ease. You moan louder as you circle your clit, the motion sending sparks through your pelvis and thighs.

"There's a good girl. So obedient. I can hear how wet you are for me." He places a hand on your head, not pushing, just guiding your pace up and down his length. You press your tongue to the underside of his cock to add pressure while you touch your clit, the wet nub buzzing with electricity.

"Just like that," he puffs. He holds up his shirt and you see through your fluttering lashes the way his abs constrict with pleasure. "Go on, make yourself cum like that. Think you can do it? You think you can cum with my cock down your throat?" His hips jerk up into your mouth again with more urgency.

Your thighs twitch as your stomach tightens. His vulger words send you over the edge, and your hips stutter against your hand. Your body twitches and thrusts on the floor between his thighs.

"Good girl- good fuckin' girl," he says, his voice deep and strained, and he fists your hair harder and pulls it tight. The rush of euphoria makes you moan around him low and loud, and he cums into your mouth with a grunt. You choke on the salty fluid, swallowing what you can, but some of it slips out of your lips and drips down your chin.

He pulls you off and takes a good look at how ruined you are, your lips swollen, your eyes unable to focus, your hand down your pants, and best of all, his cum decoration your face. He smiles at you and hands you a relatively clean rag to clean your face. Little black streaks preplace white droplets on your skin, and he can't help the fond smile that creeps up on him. He's marked you now in more ways than one.

He untangles his hand from your hair and let's you rest your head on his knee until you catch your breath. You take your hand out of your pants, and he motions for you to raise it up to him, and instead of wiping it with the rag, he leans forward and sucks your wet fingers into his mouth. He holds your eyes and you feel his tongue swiping across the pads of your fingers, until he releases then with a smack of his lips.

"I'll let the boys know about our little arrangement. They'll collect their own payment when you pick it up tomorrow," he says with a wink. He helps you stand up and walks you back to the front, leaving you with one final squeeze to you ass. "Oh, and you might want to wash your hair," he adds as he opens the door to the garage. He hands up a greasy hand. "Got motor oil in it. Sorry."

[leighsartworks216]

Cinderella

Zayne x gn!Reader

Believe it or not, I started this fic before his cat card came out. And then I saw the card and I simply had to finish this

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, married life, established relationship, food/cooking, kissing, implied sexual content

Word Count: 1, 431

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Your body is weighed down by morning as you heave yourself to your feet, shivering all the while as the cold air of the room caresses your bare skin. You hurry to throw on the first thing you can find: Zayne’s shirt abandoned on the floor. As you start to button it up, you turn to look at the man himself, still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

His hair is tousled and unkempt, from your fingers and his pillow. His lips slightly parted with slow, even breaths. The blankets are up to his chest. Reddened marks trail from his exposed neck and down his body. You smile just thinking about his usual efforts to try hiding them when he has to go into work. It’s unlikely he’ll wear his turtleneck today, given he doesn’t have to go anywhere. And you’re going to love pulling down his collar to kiss right over them again.

Quietly, you pad your way to your dresser for some fresh underwear, collecting stray clothes as you go to dump them into the hamper. Then, you creep over to his side and carefully pull the blankets back up to his neck. The clock on his bedside table reads 9am. If you’re very lucky, he’ll sleep in until 10. He needs this rest.

You lean down and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. He shifts slightly, his head turning as if he’s trying to chase your touch. Warmth floods your chest as you sneak out of the bedroom and so, so slowly close the door behind you.

The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way through the house. You make a detour to the entryway to steal Zayne’s own house slippers, left forgotten after you got home from dinner last night. It’s truly a miracle he found the patience to leave his shoes at the door. The slippers don’t fit you, but they protect your feet from the cold as you finally head into the kitchen to enact your devious plan to take care of your husband.

You work as quietly as you can to take down a pan and pull out a spatula. You grab a bowl and lay out all the ingredients you need to make pancakes. You also pull out some blueberries to drop into the batter once it’s all mixed together. With a drizzle of oil in the heated pan, you use a spoon to glob the batter into little piles. They spread out into little discs, almost but not quite touching each other.

You hum to yourself as you grab a couple of plates from the cabinet. You also grab his mug and get the coffee pot started on brewing some fresh, hot coffee. As it brews, you flip the pancakes over, exposing their golden brown deliciousness. They’re thick and fluffy, and you pull out some maple syrup from the fridge to set on the table. Once the pot is brewed, you fill the mug with coffee and top it off with some sugar, just how he likes it.

You lay the first few pancakes onto a plate, setting them in a cute little toppled-domino array, before globbing some more batter into the pan. You cover the bowl and set it in the fridge to finish at a later time. You consider the possibility of giving it to Xavier, but he’d need to use a stove to make them… Best not.

Once the next batch is done, you lay them onto your own plate and crack two eggs into the pan. Their liquid insides meet the heated metal with a pleasant sizzle. You turn down the heat a little, and watch as the eggs begin to cook.

“So that’s where my slippers went.”

You whirl around to the kitchen entrance. “Zayne! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!” you chastise.

He grins as he closes the distance between you. His hair is still a mess, but at least he took the time to pull on his robe. You lean up, and he meets you halfway for a soft kiss. It’s quick, just a little peck - but it’s sweet and tender and makes your heart leap with joy, even after you’ve been together for so long.

“You forgot your slippers in the bedroom.” He holds them up with one hand, where they dangle from two of his fingers.

You glance at the eggs quickly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna risk waking up Sleeping Beauty,” you tease. You reach up to grab at his ear, but he easily ducks away. “You’re not even supposed to be up yet.” You then grab for your slippers, but he also pulls those out of your reach.

“I needed to find my Cinderella,” he teases back. “May I?” He gestures down to your feet, adorned in his slippers. You give him a suspicious look - it’s not often he’s so playful - but you nod, nonetheless. Your cheeks instantly grow warm as you watch him slowly kneel down in front of you, hazel green eyes locked to yours. He looks up at you like you are royalty meant to be worshipped.

You shift away from the stove enough to lean back against the marble countertop. It’s cold chill does nothing to tamp down the heated blood coursing through your veins. Zayne’s eyes slip shut as he pushes the dangling hem of his stolen shirt up to expose the skin of your thigh. His mouth immediately seeks it out, pressing featherlight kisses just below the line of your underwear and down your leg.

His fingers follow a similar pattern. They dance along your skin gracefully, almost tickling you as they travel to the back of your thigh, slowly gliding down all the way to your calf. His mouth stops at your knee. His hot breath fans over your bare skin, reverent and appreciative, exhaled from his nose, or from his mouth just as he goes in to leave another kiss.

His hand trails lower to your ankle. His thumb massages around the jutting bone, coaxing you to shift your weight and lift your foot up. With his other hand, he removes his slipper and sets it aside. His eyes open slightly to ensure he picks up the correct replacement; to watch as he slides the slipper tenderly onto your foot. “A perfect match,” he whispers.

You reach down to comb your fingers through his hair, detangling and smoothing it out so it sits normally on his head again. You can feel his grin. You’re tempted to grab his ear again just to mess with him.

He guides your foot back to solid ground. His lips find your other thigh, his hand finds your other ankle, and he helps you back onto one foot as he trades slippers once more. He meets your eyes again as he stands, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Suddenly reminded of what you were doing before this, you hurriedly flip the eggs over. “You almost made me burn breakfast,” you chide, but your face is so flushed, it doesn’t come across as seriously as you wish it did.

He unceremoniously slides his slippers onto his feet with a self-satisfied grin and a soft chuckle. His arms wrap around your waist, his chest to your back as he hugs you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder with his head tilted to lean against yours. Your free hand finds one of his over your stomach. Fingers move in a familiar dance to tangle together. You trace the cool band on his ring finger. He watches the morning light catch on yours.

“Thank you, my love,” he hums, content.

You kiss his head. “Of course. I wanted to do something nice for your day off.” You have to let him go in order to transfer the eggs (slightly overcooked) to your plates. He automatically turns the stove off, watching to make sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself. “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

He steps away, arms slipping from your body, to move about the kitchen. While you grab the plates and carry them over to the table, he grabs his coffee and takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. It’s just as he likes it. He carries it over with a glass of fruit juice that he sets in front of your plate.

“Anything,” he responds at last. “As long as it’s with you.”

You chuckle. “Alright, then we’ll stay in bed all day.”

He smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

---

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