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uchizana · 11 days ago

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SIPS OF SERENDIPITY — lara raj

synopsis: on a saturday night, you and your group of friends decide to go to a bar to hang out. however, what at first seemed to be a boring night that you were eagerly anticipating its end, takes a 360° turn when a flirtatious stranger approaches you at the bar. (this is SO BAD maybe i'll change it later)

pairing: lara raj x fem reader

warnings: lara being a flirt, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i wrote this inspired by that video where a fan takes a picture with lara and she says "i've been watching you for a while. you're hot" and gives her a look WITH THE FAN'S BOYFRIEND BEING THE ONE RECORDING THE VIDEO...

— english isn't my first language so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.

katseye masterlist.

you never wanted to be here, nestled in the pulsating heart of the bar club, a cacophony of laughter and music wrapping around you like an unwelcome embrace. if it were up to you, you’d be home—cozy on the couch with a blanket, a good movie streaming, and your favorite takeout keeping you company. yet here you are, a reluctant participant in your friends’ saturday night escapade, the weight of their enthusiasm smothering your reservations until you agreed, or rather, were convinced to agree.

your friends, buoyed by the excitement of the night, had already indulged in a round of drinks before you even finished your reluctant first. the table before you is a kaleidoscope of empty glasses and cups, some precariously stacked, threatening to topple over at any moment. your friends aren’t drunk, but their voices have risen—notes of silliness slipping into their banter, their laughter louder and more boisterous. you sit at the edge of the fun, halfway through your drink and feeling like a fish out of water.

as you absentmindedly sip, the revelry around you intensifies. then you feel it: yunjin's playful tug on your arm, her orange hair bouncing as she tilts her head, eyes sparkling with mischief under her glasses.

"hey, can you grab us some more drinks?" yunjin slurred slightly, a grin splitting her tipsy expression as she nudged you with her elbow. you raised your brow, twinges of grumpiness coursing through you. the thought of getting up and ordering more drinks when you were trying to blend into the background felt like a chore. but looking at her began to soften your resolve; she looked so cheerful, surrounded by laughter and warmth, a bright spark of joy that was hard to resist.

"have you girls already had your whole round of cocktails? didn't sakura unnie just go to the bar less than ten minutes ago?”

"come on, just go get us some drinks! I’m practically parched!" yunjin slurs slightly, nudging you with her elbow as she motions toward the bartender. there’s a playful glint in her tipsy eyes, and you roll your own, knowing there’s no escaping this request.

in truth, part of you wants to refuse. you were just beginning to enjoy the ambience—but then you glance back at your friends, all of them smiling and cheering as if sharing some inside joke that you’re not part of. biting your lip, you finally nod, caught in the moment of their enthusiasm.

“fine, i’ll go,” you say, rising reluctantly from your seat and to make your way to the bar.

a playful cheer erupted from yunjin as you turned to make your way towards the bar, the crowd parting like waves around you. you felt the rhythm of the music pulse beneath your feet, the buoyancy of the evening air wrapping around you. the bar itself was polished wood, reflecting flickering lights overhead, while the bartender maneuvered deftly, creating cocktails for patrons with a flourish.

arriving at the bar, you squeeze through clusters of people hugging the counter, their conversations blending into an unintelligible hum. you scan the drink menu, your mind pulling up their previous orders as you try to focus.

as you wait for the bartender to acknowledge your presence, your mind floats back to the table. you can hear yunjin and chaewon giggling like schoolgirls, chaewon's playful banter making yunjin erupt in boisterous laughter. however, when the bartender appears in front of you, you immediately divert your attention from your group of friends, politely giving him your drink order, both for you and your group, and making sure that there are two drinks for each of you so that you don't have to go back to the bar to order.

immediately.

in your peripheral vision, you catch movement. It’s a boy at the stool next to you, leaning back casually, one arm resting on the bar. he gives you an assessing look, cockiness radiating from him like heat from a fire.

the guy leaning on the bar turned to you, flashing a grin that felt both charming and overly cocky. he had dark hair, tousled just enough to subtly suggest he didn’t care about his appearance, but his confidence oozed.

you simply turn your head and focus on the bartender, focusing on how he prepares the drinks you ordered, pouring the alcohol into the glasses and cutting fruits, refusing to give this guy the satisfaction.

“hey there,” he said smoothly, his grin stretching wide. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone? shouldn’t you be out there tearing up the dance floor?”

you rolled your eyes internally. “i’m just here getting drinks for my friends,” you replied flatly, trying your best to ignore his advances. flirting was tiresome, especially on a night like this.

“ah, friends. lucky them. just don’t be surprised if they try to steal you away from this place. you’re way too beautiful to stay in a joint like this.” he leaned in closer, invading your personal space. “... you should totally ditch them and join me. i mean, you deserve a night of fun.” his voice was syrupy and thick, the kind that made your skin crawl.

“sorry, i'm not interested.” you mumbled, trying to dismiss him by focusing on your drink order. but he didn’t take the hint.

“aw, come on! i’m just trying to be friendly. you must be new here.” he leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave. “but i’ve got to say, you’re stunning. you shouldn’t just be here getting drinks. you should be the center of attention.”

“look, i didn't come here to flirt. i just want to hang out with my friends and relax.” you repeat your disinterest, trying to emphasize your clear lack of desire to keep the conversation going.

“come on, don’t be that way,” he said, leaning closer with a wink that made my skin crawl. “how about this—a drink on me? you can’t say no to that.”

“i'm not interested in you.” you say, sounding more direct than you want, surprising yourself.

“alright, alright, i get it,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender but lingering far too long. “just thought i’d tell you—you’re stunning and deserve someone who actually looks at you the way you should be looked at.” another wink, and he finally got up, strutting away like he’d just made the best conquest.

feeling a twinge of annoyance, you rolled your eyes and turned back to the bartender. the guy was clearly full of himself, but thankfully just before you could come up with a proper retort, he waved goodbye, leaving with a last cheeky wink and compliment that only made you curse under your breath.

“ugh,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. just when you thought the night couldn't get worse, it unfolded into an entire new encounter.

someone is standing next to you again, and you stiffen, thinking it’s the boy again. but when you turn, you're met with the sight of a stunning girl—wine red hair cascading down her shoulders, her pink dress a vivid splash of color against the dim backdrop of the club. she smirks at you, a delightful laughter escaping her lips as she takes in your surprised expression.

“wow, that was quite the face you made,” she teases, clearly finding amusement in your previous experience. the blush that had just begun to fade surges back to your cheeks, this time from embarrassment mixed with unexpected intrigue. “didn’t mean to catch you off guard. you okay?”

“i—... uh, yes,” you stuttered, trying to regain composure but failing miserably. “i just—sorry, i thought you were someone else.”

“don’t mind me; i just couldn’t help but notice the whole ‘poor girl having to deal with that guy’ vibe. and i’m sorry, but if he was trying to flirt with you, he clearly missed the mark.”

you can’t help the small chuckle that escapes your lips, shyness creeping back in as you adjust your posture. “yeah, it was... interesting,” you reply, your voice a touch hesitant.

she giggles, a sound that feels like a gentle embrace against the bar’s chaos. “i’m lara,” she introduces herself, her confidence as alluring as her smile. “and i have to admit: that guy is a disaster. honestly, i don’t blame him. i saw you across the bar and thought, ‘wow, that girl is beautiful.’”

something inside you stirs at her compliment, something warmer, a flutter of surprise that sends heat rushing to your cheeks.

“i’ve been wanting to say that,” she continues, unabashedly. “and, not to be too forward, but i think you’re hot.” the directness in her words catches you off guard.

you stand there, much like a statue, caught in your awkward disbelief. you can’t quite rationalize it; you’ve heard compliments from friends, but something about the sincerity in her words, her direct gaze, makes you feel a mix of shy and exhilarated.

“and your dress? absolutely stunning. that dress is perfect on you by the way.”

electricity dances on your skin, and you can hardly keep your composure under her attention. flirting with someone like this—someone beautiful and confident—feels as exhilarating as it is terrifying.

“it’s just something i found,” you murmur, acutely aware of the warmth creeping up your neck. she’s so direct, so unabashed.

“just something you found?” she laughs, shaking her head as if she can’t believe her ears. “no way. you’re too hot for ‘just found’. you should be strutting down a runway somewhere. you're stunning.”

the music thumps around you, pulsating with a life of its own, but you feel the world fading into background noise. you’re focused on lara, her hazel eyes sparkling beneath the neon lights.

“thanks,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping your lips. there was something captivating about her. “i’m not sure how much stunning really applies when you’re just standing here awkwardly.”

“oh, don’t sell yourself short. look at that! you wear it like a queen.” the way she spoke was disarming, and you could feel the air around you thicken with intrigue.

another moment of sweet silence passed as you tried to collect yourself, the air around you charged with a fluttering tension. the next thing you knew, she was reaching into her purse, pulling out a tube of lip gloss with practiced ease. “here, let me give you something.” much to your curiosity, she scribbled her number on a cocktail napkin and slid it toward you.

“write to me when you have time,” she said, flashing a coy smile that made it difficult to look anywhere else. “i’d love to take you out for a drink sometime.”

just as you were about to respond, the bartender finally arrived, setting down the drinks you’d ordered alongside lara’s. the moment was interrupted, a slice of reality cutting in as you instinctively glanced at the napkin before meeting lara’s gaze again.

the sudden rush of adrenaline made you dizzy. it was surreal, and part of you feared you might wake up from this enchanting moment at any moment. you blinked up at her, feeling like you needed to pick your words carefully before stumbling through a response. but she was already rising from her stool, and before being devoured by the crowd, lara gives you one last smile. “remember, beautiful!” she winks, her figure already dissolving into the crowd as she walks away, leaving you stunned.

the napkin feels fragile in your hand, an undeniable swirl of emotions roiling in your chest. you’re breathless, a light blush staining your cheeks as you tuck the napkin into your bag, hardly believing what just happened.

when you returned to your table, chaewon was the first to notice your absence. “what took you so long? did that guy keep you for that long?” she teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“just a... conversation,” you replied, trying to brush off the embarrassment.

you shot a glance back at where lara disappeared, a smile irrepressibly tugging at your lips. you could feel kazuha’s knowing gaze on you, raised eyebrows and a smirk playing on her lips, as if she could see right through your excitement.

“or maybe it was a girl,” she said lightly, her tone inquisitive but gentle.

you felt the color rush to your cheeks. “what? No, of course not,” you lied, unable to completely mask the surprise in your voice.

“oh my god, was it that hot redhead? was she flirting with you?” yunjin asks, her tone of voice being louder than the music in the place. you immediately felt the need to cover her mouth with your hand, being more than sure that wherever lara was right now, she surely heard yunjin's voice.

chaewon perked up, wise to every nuance. “wait, was it that gorgeous one? the one who was all over you at the bar?”

kazuha shoots you a knowing look, her smirk grasping the implications as she bites back a laugh.

you can feel your cheeks burn as you stammer, “uh, well, she was just—”

“oh, please! just tell us everything!” yunjin exclaims, elbowing you playfully.

“nothing happened! it was just—” you start, but kazuha is already shaking her head, a teasing smile creeping across her face. you can see that she knows better.

“i’m not gonna press you, but that napkin in your bag tells a different story…” kazuha’s words tease like sparks, igniting your cheeks again.

you had no rebuttal, and instead chose to pick at your drink, your mind racing with a cocktail of thoughts and emotions. you could still see the gleam in lara’s eyes, her contagious laughter echoing like a melody.

maybe the night wasn’t so bad after all. you felt a flicker of hope as you pushed your drink away, the napkin weighing heavier than it should in your bag—a small token of what might blossom from tonight. you could almost hear lara’s laughter echo in your mind, and it seemed far more intoxicating than any drink.

it might not have been the typical night out at the bar. but as the warmth of your friends mingled with the thrill of possibility, in the midst of laughter and embraces, you felt ready to explore something entirely new—something that promised to take you beyond the familiar. you couldn’t help but imagine what might unfold if you dared to step outside your comfort zone.

#lara katseye #lara x reader #lara raj #lara raj x reader #katseye #katseye x fem reader #katseye x reader #kpop x fem reader #kpop x reader

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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Between the Flames (Part 2)

- Summary: Gwayne and you rekindle your flame as a celebratory hunt proceeds.

- Paring: Gwayne Hightower/targ!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top. The timeframe of events in both parts 1 and 2 is unspecified, place the plot wherever you wish it in your imagination.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 812

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The first light of dawn creeps into the camp as you step out of your tent. The air is crisp with the chill of morning, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders, taking in the stillness that clings to this early hour. The fires from last night’s revelries are mere embers now, and the camp is draped in a quiet so deep it feels like the world holds its breath.

Your eyes sweep over the clearing, searching for a familiar face, but Rhaenyra is nowhere to be found. Of course she’s not. Your sister has likely slipped away with Ser Criston Cole, her sworn shield, to chase whatever solitude she can grasp in this suffocating charade. Rhaenyra has always despised these hunts, the feasts, the endless parade of lords fawning over her as if she’s a prize mare. You sympathize with her distaste, but unlike her, you’ve remained tethered to these duties out of some misguided sense of loyalty to your father and the memory of your late mother, Queen Aemma.

A flutter of resentment stirs in your chest. You’ve followed the rules for so long, always the dutiful daughter, watching as your sister rides free while you remain in the gilded cage of expectations. Yet yesterday, when Gwayne Hightower had found you in the crowd of nobles and knights, that sense of duty had wavered for the first time in years. His presence had unraveled something in you, a thread of emotions carefully tucked away since your father denied him your hand. His smile was the same, a little boyish even after all this time, and his eyes held that familiar warmth as they met yours.

The memories from years ago flood back, his hand brushing against yours, the quiet exchanges between dances, lingers in your mind like the aftertaste of wine. You had long buried those feelings, or so you thought. Yet now, in the stillness of dawn, all you can think about is how his presence stirs a longing you’ve tried to forget.

For once, you allow yourself to act on impulse.

You move with a sudden resolve, heading towards the small paddock where the horses are tethered. Your chest tightens as you glance around, half-expecting someone to stop you. You see Ser Harrold Westerling, his gray hair wild with sleep, standing at the edge of the camp. He’s too far away to notice you yet, still groggy and unconcerned as he yawns and stretches.

Before he can spot you, you make your way to your mare, a beautiful dappled chestnut with a silky black mane. She snorts softly in greeting, stamping the ground with her hoof. You pat her neck, her coat warm and smooth beneath your gloved hand. "We’re going to do something foolish, my sweet girl," you whisper, a half-smile playing on your lips.

With practiced ease, you mount the mare, settling into the saddle. The forest looms ahead, its dark arms open and inviting, promising the kind of freedom you’ve denied yourself for too long. A breathless excitement quickens in your chest as you lean forward, giving your mare a gentle nudge. She responds instantly, trotting lightly across the camp, her hooves barely making a sound on the soft earth.

"Princess!" Ser Harrold’s voice rings out, sharp with alarm, but you’re already gone. The wind rushes against your face as you break into a gallop, the camp shrinking behind you as the trees blur past. The thrill of disobedience courses through your veins, each beat of your heart in time with the rhythm of your mare’s stride.

The forest is alive with the songs of morning birds and the rustling of leaves. Sunlight dapples through the canopy above, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. For a moment, you let out a breathless laugh, the sheer joy of riding unbound filling you with a wild sense of elation. You understand now, at least in part, why Rhaenyra flees these events; there’s something liberating in leaving behind expectations, even if only for a short while.

You slow your pace once you’re deep within the woods, guiding your mare along a familiar narrow trail framed by ferns and moss-covered stones until you reach an edge of a small brook. The peace of the forest wraps around you like a soothing balm. Here, away from prying eyes, from duties and titles, you can simply be.

But your thoughts inevitably return to Gwayne. You remember the way he looked at you last night, the warmth in his eyes tinged with something deeper. You can still hear his voice in your head, low and intimate as he leaned in close during the dance.

“It has been too long, Y/N,” he had said softly, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “I barely recognized you the day before… though you’ve grown only more beautiful.”

A faint blush warms your cheeks at the memory. For years, you had pushed thoughts of him aside, thinking them childish fancies, a promise he couldn't keep, but his presence has reignited a spark that refuses to be smothered.

Lost in thought, you nearly miss the sound of hooves approaching from another direction. Your mare’s ears prick forward, alert, and you turn your head just in time to see a rider emerging from between the trees. The sunlight catches on silver armor trimmed with green—Gwayne.

Gwayne Hightower woke with the first rays of dawn creeping through the canvas of his tent, the dim light casting long shadows across his face. Sleep had been restless and fleeting; the events of the previous night still clung to his mind like a shroud. He could still feel the weight of Daemon Targaryen’s gaze—a sharp, cutting thing that held a silent promise of retribution. Daemon had watched them dance, his eyes like twin embers, waiting for any excuse to ignite into something more dangerous.

But Gwayne hadn’t cared. Not then, and certainly not now.

All that mattered was you.

He could still feel the ghost of your hand in his, the way your touch sent a spark straight through him. You had tried to maintain a careful distance, the practiced grace of a princess who had long learned to hide her heart behind a veil of propriety. But Gwayne knew you better than that. He knew the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your voice dropped ever so slightly when you said his name. You could hide your emotions from most, but never from him.

He’d known you since you were both children, and in all those years, nothing had truly changed between you. Even now, after all the time and distance, after the layers of courtly masks, you were still the same girl who had stolen his heart. And he would not—could not—let anyone take you away from him. Not Daemon, not even your father. The King could deny him the match all he wished, but it was a hollow decree. He knew, deep down, that you were his. You always had been, from the moment you’d shared your secrets and desires with him years ago, in the quiet, hidden corners of the Red Keep.

And when he had seen Daemon’s eyes on you, the dragon’s possessiveness simmering beneath the surface, Gwayne had only felt his resolve harden. Daemon could try to intimidate him all he liked, but he would never understand that what bound you to Gwayne was deeper than mere attraction or lust. It was years of unspoken promises, of shared dreams and whispered hopes, of a love that had grown in the shadows of duty and expectation.

Gwayne exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he pushed himself out of bed. The air was crisp, the early morning dew clinging to the grass as he dressed quickly in his riding leathers. His mind drifted back to the last time he had truly held you, before politics and power had pushed you both into your separate roles. Back then, you’d been freer, more open, before the weight of a princess’s crown settled on your brow. And yet, last night, in those fleeting moments when your eyes met his, he saw a glimpse of that girl again. The one who had wanted more than what was being offered to her.

He knew you would not remain at camp long today. You despised these hunts as much as Rhaenyra did, though you bore it more quietly. And as if the gods themselves sought to reward his patience, his instincts proved correct when he caught sight of you slipping away, mounting your horse with a grace and ease born of years of practice. Ser Harrold’s groggy warning echoed across the clearing, but you were already gone, disappearing into the forest with the wind in your hair.

Gwayne’s heart leapt in his chest, a sense of urgency and determination driving him into motion. He wasted no time, striding swiftly toward his own horse, a powerful black stallion bred for speed and endurance. He swung into the saddle with practiced ease, feeling the familiar weight of the reins in his hands. Without hesitation, he urged his horse forward, following the path you had taken into the woods.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. Gwayne’s focus narrowed, his gaze trained on the faint trail you left behind—hoofprints in the soft earth, the occasional disturbed branch. He knew where you were headed; it was the same place you always sought when you needed to escape the world, a secluded glade hidden deep within these woods.

The sound of rushing wind and the rhythmic thudding of hooves filled his ears as he pushed his stallion harder, driven by a mixture of anticipation and longing. Every beat of his heart felt in tune with the ride, each breath drawing him closer to you. He couldn’t help but smile as he imagined the look on your face when he found you—the mix of surprise and exasperation that you could never fully hide, tinged with that unmistakable affection that lingered in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a clearing bathed in soft morning light. And there you were, seated on your mare at the edge of a small brook, the sound of trickling water a soothing backdrop to the scene. The sight of you, framed by the dappled sunlight, took his breath away for a moment. You were like a vision from a dream, your hair catching the golden rays as you gazed thoughtfully at the water. The serenity of the moment only heightened his determination to be by your side.

You must have sensed him approaching, for you turned just as he entered the clearing. The surprise in your eyes was quickly replaced by a familiar warmth, though you tried to maintain a composed expression. “And here I thought I’d managed to escape everyone,” you said with a hint of teasing in your voice.

Gwayne brought his horse to a stop beside yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you truly think you could slip away from me so easily, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and edged with amusement. “You should know by now that I would follow you anywhere.”

Your expression softened at that, and for a moment, the carefully maintained walls you kept around yourself faltered. “And what brings you chasing after me, Ser Gwayne?” you asked quietly, your gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. “Surely you have other duties to attend to, other places to be.”

He leaned forward slightly in the saddle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I have no duty more important than being where you are,” he replied, the words simple but weighted with meaning. “No place I would rather be than at your side.”

You looked away, as if trying to hide the emotions that flickered across your face, but Gwayne knew you too well. He could see the struggle within you, the war between obligation and the desires you kept buried. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours where it rested on the reins. “You don’t have to hide from me, Y/N,” he said softly. “Not here. Not now.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the reins as if grounding yourself. “And what if hiding is all I have left?” you whispered, a note of vulnerability slipping into your voice. “What if it’s the only way I can survive this game we’re all trapped in?”

Gwayne’s expression hardened with resolve. “You’re more than what they want to make you. More than a pawn in this endless game of power. You’re you—the woman I’ve loved since we were children, the one I would fight for, no matter the cost.”

You met his gaze then, something in your eyes softening. The walls you’d built around yourself cracked, if only for a moment, and Gwayne saw the woman beneath—the one who wanted more than duty and expectation, the one who longed for freedom, for love, for something real.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, a faint smile touching your lips. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding.”

Gwayne’s heart swelled with hope, with the belief that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to stop running from what you both knew had always been there between you. He leaned closer, his voice a gentle whisper. “Then let’s take this moment for ourselves. Forget the world outside, forget the dragons and the thrones and the knives hidden in every smile. Let’s just… be.”

For a long moment, the world held its breath as you considered his words. Then, slowly, you nodded, the tension easing from your shoulders. “For a little while,” you agreed, your voice soft, a hint of relief in your tone.

And so, you rode together through the sun-dappled forest, leaving behind the weight of duty and the ever-watchful eyes of the court. In this fleeting moment, there was no war of crowns or claims, no dragons or scheming lords—only the two of you, and the promise of something that could be, if only you dared to reach for it.

In the quiet sanctuary of the forest, with nothing but the rustling leaves and distant birdsong to bear witness, you and Gwayne finally dismount from your horses. The sun has climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden light across the clearing. There’s a silence between you—charged, electric—heavy with all the unspoken words and emotions you’ve held back for years. The bond you thought had frayed with time is alive once more, vibrant and undeniable.

You both step closer, drawn together by a force that feels as natural as breathing. Gwayne’s eyes are locked on yours, his gaze intense, full of longing and a possessive tenderness that makes your pulse quicken. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in the small space between your bodies crackling like a fire about to be kindled.

His hand comes up, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip with a reverence that sends shivers down your spine. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, his voice low and hoarse with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

You close your eyes briefly, savoring the feel of his touch, the way it melts away the years of separation, the walls you’ve built to protect yourself. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmur, though there’s no conviction in your words, only a breathless longing. The ache in your chest is one you’ve carried for so long, buried deep beneath the layers of duty and decorum. But now, with Gwayne so close, it’s impossible to deny how much you want this—want him.

His thumb tilts your chin up, and you meet his gaze once more. “Perhaps we shouldn’t,” he agrees, his voice soft but edged with determination. “But I won’t let that stop me. Not anymore. I won’t let anything keep us apart again.”

And with that, the dam finally breaks. Your lips crash together in a kiss that’s searing, urgent, full of years’ worth of pent-up desire and emotions. There’s no hesitation, no holding back. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, as if you’re both trying to make up for every lost moment, every day you spent apart. His hands are on you, one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist with a possessiveness that makes you gasp against his mouth.

Your hands roam over his chest, fingers fumbling with the ties of his tunic, the urgency mirrored in the way he pulls at the laces of your dress. Every touch is fevered, every caress driven by the need to feel skin against skin. Clothes are shed with haste, your lips barely parting even as you struggle to rid yourselves of the barriers between you. His breath is hot against your neck, lips trailing down your throat as he shrugs off the last of his garments. Your own dress falls away, pooling at your feet, leaving you both exposed to the cool morning air—but the heat between your bodies is enough to chase away the chill.

There’s no room for words now, only the rhythm of your breaths, the thrum of your heartbeats in perfect harmony. He draws you close, lifting you with ease as your legs wrap around his waist, your bodies fitting together as if they were made to do so. The first touch of him inside you is a heady rush, a mix of pleasure and familiarity that sends a shudder through you both. He moves with a gentle haste, his grip firm on your hips as he sinks into you fully, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

You cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back as your lips find his again in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. The rhythm comes naturally, an instinctive dance that’s both achingly familiar and exhilaratingly new. Even after all the time that has passed, your bodies remember each other, falling into a perfect sync that leaves no space for doubt or regret.

His movements are steady but urgent, each thrust a declaration of the need that has burned between you for so long. Your moans mix with his, the sound of your shared pleasure filling the secluded clearing. There’s a raw intimacy in the way your bodies move together, every touch, every gasp a reaffirmation of what you’ve both held onto all these years. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath ragged as he whispers your name, the sound of it like a prayer.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

You don’t respond with words—there’s no need. The way your body arches into his, the way you tighten around him as pleasure builds in your core, says everything. You’re his, just as he’s yours, bound by a love that neither time nor distance could ever truly break.

The tension coils tighter with every thrust, every brush of his lips against your skin, until it’s too much to hold back. Your release washes over you in a wave of bliss, pulling a cry from your lips as you cling to him, every nerve alight with sensation. Gwayne follows you over the edge, a low groan escaping him as he buries his face in your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the world seems to hold still. The forest fades away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Your breathing slows, and you feel Gwayne’s grip on you soften, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back as he holds you close.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your chest ache. “I’m never letting you go again,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a fierce kind of love. “Not for anything. Not for anyone.”

You reach up to cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I never wanted to be let go,” you confess, your voice a whisper. “I’ve only ever wanted this… us.”

In the silence that follows, there’s a peace that settles between you—an unspoken understanding that whatever lies ahead, you’ll face it together. For now, in this stolen moment, the world beyond the forest doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way your hearts beat in time, the bond between you rekindled and stronger than ever.

And in that quiet, sunlit clearing, you both allow yourselves to believe—if only for a little while—that the future might hold more than just duty and sacrifice. That it might hold a chance for the love you’ve both fought so long to protect.

Daemon Targaryen stood near the edge of the camp, eyes narrowed into slits as he watched you and Gwayne ride back into the clearing. The sight of you both—your hair disheveled, lips still slightly swollen from hurried kisses—made his blood boil. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened, his jaw tightening as a cold fury settled into his bones. Gwayne’s smug look didn’t help; the Hightower knight sent him a knowing, defiant smirk as he rode past, one hand resting possessively on your waist. The message in his gaze was clear: I’ve won, and you know it.

Daemon’s lips curled into a sneer. Foolish boy, he thought darkly. You’ve no idea what you’re inviting.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what had transpired in the woods. He recognized the flushed skin, the barely concealed satisfaction on both your faces, the way your eyes avoided his as you dismounted. You carried yourself with that fire he adored—back straight, chin held high—but he could see through it. He could always see through you. There was anger beneath your proud exterior, frustration burning just as fiercely as his own.

As you handed the reins to a stable hand, Daemon moved with predatory grace, intercepting you before you could disappear into your tent. He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not bruising, his eyes burning into yours.

“What were you doing?” he hissed, though it was more accusation than question. His voice was low, dangerously controlled, a seething threat simmering just below the surface.

You jerked your arm free, glaring up at him with barely concealed fury. “I could ask you the same, Uncle. Spying on me as if I’m one of your lackeys?” Your tone was sharp, dripping with defiance. You took a step closer, your voice lowering to a venomous whisper. “What right do you have to question me? You’ve made it clear what I am to you.”

The words cut him, though he’d never admit it. His eyes darkened further as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You were gone longer than a mere ride warrants, Princess. And you return with that Hightower pup, wearing a look that tells me everything I need to know.”

You bristled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “And why do you care, Daemon? What difference does it make to you what I do or with whom?” Your voice wavered with barely restrained emotion—anger, frustration, and something more, something raw and wounded. “You never wanted me, not really. Not as anything more than a consolation prize because you couldn’t have her.”

Daemon’s gaze sharpened, the accusation hitting too close to home. He reached out, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Watch your tongue,” he growled, his voice laced with barely suppressed fury. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, don’t I?” You yanked your chin from his grasp, your eyes flashing with contempt. “You think I haven’t noticed? You think I don’t see the way you look at her—my sister? The way you’ve always craved what you can’t have? You wanted Rhaenyra, not me. But Viserys wouldn’t allow it, wouldn’t let his precious heir fall into your clutches. So you settled for me instead, the lesser prize.”

The truth in your words stung more than Daemon cared to admit. His mind raced, fury and something far more dangerous swirling within him. You had never been lesser to him—never. But he had to grit his teeth against the admission. For a heartbeat, his anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of something deeper, something that threatened to expose him in a way he despised.

His grip loosened, but his gaze remained intense, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. “Is that what you think? That you’re second to her?” His voice was lower now, softer but no less dangerous. “You’ve always seen yourself as Rhaenyra’s shadow, haven’t you? But let me tell you something, Y/N—you have just as much fire as she does. Maybe more.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Words, Daemon. Just more of your pretty words. You think they’ll work on me after all this time?” Your tone was bitter, but there was a note of pain beneath it that you couldn’t quite hide.

His eyes hardened again, his intensity returning full force. “You are not some replacement,” he snapped, each word deliberate, almost vicious in its conviction. “You’re mine just as much as she could ever be. Perhaps Viserys keeps me from her because he fears what we could be together—but he gave me you because he thinks you’ll be easier to control. And perhaps, for once, he’s right.” His eyes bore into yours, daring you to deny it. “But don’t ever think that makes you lesser, Y/N. You’re every bit as valuable as she is—to me and to this cursed family.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of unspoken truths and old wounds. The tension was nearly unbearable, a volatile mixture of rage, passion, and something neither of you wanted to acknowledge aloud.

You glared at him, chest heaving as you fought to control your breathing. “You claim I’m yours, yet you push me away every time I get too close, every time I try to see beyond that mask of arrogance you wear. You want me just enough to keep me tethered, but never enough to make me truly believe it.”

Daemon’s expression softened just a fraction, the cruel edges giving way to something almost tender. He stepped closer, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, and his gaze softened, the fierceness replaced with an intensity that was somehow even more dangerous. “You’ve always seen through me, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s why you’re the one thing I can never let go of, no matter how much I try.”

You felt your breath hitch, the admission hanging in the air between you. For a moment, the storm in your chest subsided, replaced by the ache of knowing that no matter what you said, no matter how much you tried to fight it, a part of you would always be drawn to him—like a moth to a flame, even if it meant getting burned.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and the anger returned, raw and unfiltered. You pulled back from his touch, your voice tight with resolve. “I may be yours in your eyes, Daemon, but I refuse to be something you settle for. I’ll be more than just a placeholder for your desires.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and stormed toward your tent, leaving Daemon staring after you, a storm of conflicting emotions raging behind his eyes. He clenched his fists, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to rein in his temper. He had always believed he could control everything, bend the world to his will—but in this moment, watching you walk away, he was reminded that some things, some desires, were far beyond his grasp.

But as he stood there, alone in the clearing, a dark, determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. If Gwayne Hightower thought he could claim you so easily, he was sorely mistaken. Daemon had lost too much already—he wouldn’t lose you too.

One way or another, you would see the truth: that no one could ever truly have you but him.

The final day of the hunt dawned with an oppressive sense of inevitability. The skies were overcast, a muted gray that reflected the tension simmering beneath the surface of the festivities. Lords and knights milled about the camp, preparing for the last chase, but the air was thick with unspoken rivalries and hidden agendas. For Daemon, it was more than just another hunt—it was the culmination of days of mounting frustration and a terror he refused to name, all centered around one person: you.

He had prided himself on control—control over his ambitions, his desires, his enemies. But you were slipping through his fingers, and it clawed at something primal within him. The sight of you laughing, exchanging warm smiles with Gwayne Hightower, had become unbearable. It wasn’t just anger that churned in his chest; it was fear. The fear of losing the one person who had managed to burrow past his defenses, the one thing he had convinced himself was his.

As the sun climbed higher, the hounds were readied, and the nobles began mounting their horses. Daemon’s eyes never left Gwayne, who was exchanging pleasantries with his sister, Alicent. The Hightower knight held himself with the same confident ease as always, his armor gleaming, his expression serene. But beneath that polished exterior, Daemon could sense a defiant edge, a silent challenge that sent a pulse of fury through him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He swung himself onto his horse, cutting through the throng with a focused determination. The murmured conversations around the camp fell away as he approached Gwayne, who turned to meet him with a calm gaze, as if he had been expecting this confrontation.

“Ser Gwayne,” Daemon drawled, his tone laced with a false cordiality that didn’t reach his eyes. “It seems we find ourselves in each other’s company once more. How fortuitous.”

Gwayne’s expression didn’t waver. “Prince Daemon,” he replied smoothly, inclining his head in a respectful nod. “It’s always a pleasure to be in such esteemed company.”

The formalities hung in the air like a blade waiting to drop. Daemon leaned forward slightly in the saddle, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Let’s not pretend, Hightower. You’ve been playing a dangerous game, and I can see right through it. You think you can steal away what belongs to me?”

Gwayne’s smile was subtle, infuriatingly calm. “I’ve stolen nothing, Your Grace. But perhaps what you think you own was never truly yours to begin with.”

Daemon’s hand clenched around the reins, his knuckles white. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed. “You’ve never understood what binds us—what we share. You think you can walk in, flash a few smiles, and she’ll forget everything?”

Gwayne’s expression hardened, the mask of politeness slipping away to reveal a fierceness that matched Daemon’s. “What binds you?” he echoed, his voice low and firm. “Do you mean the way you push her away, yet cling to her when it suits your pride? Or the way you try to control her, hoping that she’ll never see she deserves more than to be someone’s second choice?”

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of rage and fear twisting inside him. Gwayne’s words cut too close to the truth, exposing the very thing he feared most. He had convinced himself that he was the one who understood you, who could offer you what no one else could. But the thought that he had lost you, that you had found something in Gwayne that he couldn’t offer, was a poison he couldn’t swallow.

His voice was a growl, low and venomous. “You think you’re so righteous, don’t you? Like you’re the hero in some ballad. But you’re nothing more than a lovesick fool, blinded by a girl who’s outgrown you. Do you really think she’ll choose you when all is said and done? You’re a Hightower—nothing more than a tool for your family’s ambitions.”

Gwayne’s eyes flashed with anger, his composure cracking just enough for Daemon to see the fire beneath. “And what are you, Daemon? The rogue prince, the discarded brother who can’t win his brother’s favor, who takes whatever scraps he’s offered because he’s too afraid to admit what he really wants?”

The words hit like a hammer. Daemon’s control snapped, and before he could stop himself, he spurred his horse forward, closing the distance between them until they were nearly nose to nose. His voice was a low snarl. “You know nothing about fear, Gwayne. You don’t know what it’s like to feel something slipping from your grasp, to see the one thing that keeps you from losing yourself slipping away. I would burn the world to keep her, and you’d be the first I’d cast into the fire.”

Gwayne’s gaze didn’t falter, but there was a flash of sympathy in his eyes that stoked Daemon’s fury even more. “That’s where you and I differ, Daemon,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with pity. “You believe in owning, controlling. But I believe in letting her be free, even if it means losing her. Because what she needs isn’t chains or possessive declarations. It’s someone who sees her as an equal, not a prize to be won.”

Daemon’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister, fingers twitching with the urge to draw it and end this insufferable man’s righteous speeches once and for all. But he held back, knowing that doing so would only prove Gwayne’s point. Instead, he leaned in, his voice icy and full of dark promise. “You may have her now, but don’t mistake this for the end. She is mine, whether you—or even she—realize it yet. And one day, when you’re just a memory, she’ll see that.”

With that, Daemon yanked his horse’s reins and rode away, his heart a tempest of emotions he couldn’t fully name—anger, fear, desperation. It terrified him, this loss of control, the realization that he was losing his grip not just on you, but on himself. But he would not give in, would not let you slip away without a fight.

As he rode toward the front of the hunting party, his mind raced with dark thoughts and unspoken plans. He had lost control once, but he would not let it happen again. Whatever it took, whoever he had to destroy, he would make sure that when all was said and done, you would see that you were his and his alone.

And in the distance, Gwayne watched him go, his jaw clenched, his own heart heavy with the knowledge that this confrontation was only the beginning of the battle to come.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen #gwayne x you #gwayne x y/n #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd daemon #hotd gwayne #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon x you #daemon x reader #house targaryen #house hightower

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dewdropdinosaur · 3 months ago

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Kinktober Day 3: Public Sex

Summary: A night of revelry is almost too tempting for your vampire companion...so tempting he may just not be able to wait to indulge himself. Warnings: Public sex, making out, fingering, reader is female, mentions of a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. I am not responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @fraugwinska. Go check out their joint Kinktober list with a few other amazing authors!

In the dimly lit corner of the Elfsong tavern, laughter mingled with the smell of roasting meat and spilled ale. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the wooden beams, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere; perfect after a long journey for the group. While the East End of Baldur’s Gate was by no means pristene, since the defeat of Netherbrain, a good relaxing night on the town is what the party needed.

Astarion sat at a table, his striking features accentuated by the golden glow of the firelight. His usual air of nonchalance was tinged with something different tonight: intrigue. Across the room, you twirled in a graceful dance, laughter ringing like silver bells as you swung around the room with Karlach. Your eyes sparkled, catching the light as you spun; emerald garb shimmering with each movement. The other patrons watched, entranced by your jubilant smile, but none could compete with the way Astarion looked at you. While you and he had traveled together since the beginning and even spurred on a possible romance, you had not yet crossed the constantly toed line between frienship and something more. He leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. You had a way of lighting up the room, transforming the mundane into something magical; an uninhibited spirit that made even the hardest of hearts feel lighter. As you danced, eyes sparkling with mirth, it was drawing him in like a moth to flame.

Beside him, Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. “You seem rather taken, Astarion,” she teased, a smirk on her lips.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, “She’s captivating.”

As if sensing his gaze, you paused your dance with Karlach and locked eyes with Astarion. A soft smile spread across your face, and you beckoned him to join in the revelry with a wave. The moment hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that sent a thrill through him. He rose, adjusting his collar with a practiced elegance, and made his way to the dance floor, the warmth of the tavern wrapping around him like a cloak. When he reached you, a wide grin spread across your features, eyes alight with excitement.

“I was wondering when you’d join me,” you quipped, pulling him into the dance. The rhythm of the music pulsed through the tavern, filling the air with a joyous melody. Astarion found himself lost in the moment, his usual reservations melting away as he moved with you.

He was surprised by how easily he joined in, his body swaying to the beat. You led him with a playful confidence and he couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly you drew everyone’s attention, how you seemed to thrive in the spotlight. Made sense since you were now the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Every twirl, every step was filled with a grace that both captivated and inspired him.

“See? Not so hard, is it?” you teased, her voice rising just above the music.

“Hardly,” he replied, smirking. “I am an expert dancer. I merely needed the right partner.”

With a playful tug, you spun him around, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside the tavern faded away. He was no longer a vampire spawn hiding in the shadows, no longer a companion on a long and harrowing journey; he was simply Astarion, swept up in the exhilaration of the dance and the warmth of your presence.

As the music reached a crescendo, you pull him closer, faces mere inches apart; as your hot breath fans his face. A warmth forgein to his long dead body. “You know,” voice low and inviting, “there’s something charming about seeing you let loose.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Charming? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” you reply with a wink.

And that is how the both of you ended up in the back corner of the tavern, you perched on Astarions lap as you relentlessly continued his assualt on your neck and collarbone. Perfect little dark purple marks now covered your neck, surely not disappearing anytime soon. Growling lowly against your neck, the vampire couldn’t help but inhale the sweet aroma of your blood and arousal blending, blinding his senses.

“You smell so perfect for me, pet. Utterly divine…”

Slowly trailing his fingers down the seams of your dress, Astarion is pleasently surpised to find a wet spot forming on your undergarments. Teasingly rubbing against the offending material, you can’t help but let out soft moans of appreciation at his ministrations. Grip tightening on his shoulders, you rock subtley into his hand; wanting to garner any amount of friction that you were so desperate for.

“Hush now my sweet…we don’t want to alert the masses to our little escapade do you? No, no…this is only for me.”

Quieting your noises, you whimper softly as he slips his fingers past your underwear to slip two fingers into your drenched hole. He could feel how tight you were, how desperately you squeezed him; so needy for his touch and affection that he could swear that your cunt was made solely for his enjoyment. Pumping in and out, soft squelching noises hidden by the continued music and dancing around the tavern, no one paid the two of you any mind; turning a blind eye to your activities.

Smirking, Astarion sped up, his fingers now curling and hitting that delicious spot inside you that nearly had you screaming; as a result, you slam your lips onto his as a way to quiet yourself. Pulling back and resting your head on his shoulder, panting wildly as your squirmed ontop of him; the coil in your stomach became taught as he continued his relentless pace.

“That’s it, pet…let me see how pretty you are when you cum.”

The coil in your stomach snapped as you felt a blinding hot flash of liquid pour out of your overstimulated pussy, soaking Astarion’s hand in your release as he continues to pump into you; working you through your high. After a moment, letting you catch your breath, Astarion removes his fingers and wipes them inconspicously on his trousers.

“Want to get out of here love?”

Let’s just say you came four times that night and couldn’t walk the next day…not that you minded of course.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #baldurs gate smut #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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thedensworld · 1 year ago

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What a Fate | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: humor, suggestive, smut

Words Count: 3k

Summary: Who would have thought your next meeting after having a one-night stand would be this unexpected?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Jeonghan's frustration lingered from the recent board meeting where his cousin, Seungcheol, secured the position of vice president in their grandfather's company. Despite Jeonghan's tireless efforts for the company's 60th anniversary celebration, his ambitions were shattered due to a scandal that befell him just weeks before the crucial vote.

As the CEO of their food and beverage company, Jeonghan has been diligently working towards the success of the family business. However, a sudden scandal arose when a former secretary from four years ago accused him of verbal bullying during their professional association. The accusation, given his prominent familial ties, tarnished the company's image.

Jeonghan, disheartened by the false accusations, found himself grappling with the fallout of the scandal. The situation escalated as the woman, who had once served as his secretary, admitted to fabricating the allegations. It was revealed that she had been nursing an unrequited love for Jeonghan, leading her to concoct the damaging story.

The relief of the truth emerging was accompanied by the bitter taste of betrayal. Jeonghan couldn't help but feel the weight of the injustice that had cost him the chance to inherit the family business. The emotional toll of the scandal, compounded by the familial dynamics at play, cast a shadow over what should have been a moment of celebration for Jeonghan and the company.

Jeonghan, guided by Joshua's advice, surrendered to the allure of the night and found himself embracing the spontaneity that the club offered. In the dimly lit space, fueled by the rhythm of the music, he discovered a fleeting connection with you. The chemistry between them escalated, and in the heat of the moment, they succumbed to the passion of a one-night stand.

The club's pulsating beats seemed to echo the heartbeat of the impulsive decision, and for a brief moment, Jeonghan let go of the burdens that had weighed him down. The physical connection became a temporary escape, a way to numb the lingering frustrations and disappointments.

As dawn approached, reality set in. The night, once filled with liberation, now carried the weight of consequences. Jeonghan, caught between the thrill of the moment and the complexities of his personal and professional life, grappled with the aftermath of the impulsive choice.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jeonghan muttered, the weight of realization hitting him as he hastily gathered his clothes. The consequences of the alcohol-fueled night began to sink in, and regret cast a shadow over him.

A sudden groan from you interrupted his frantic activity, causing Jeonghan to freeze. Relief washed over him as he realized you were still blissfully unaware, providing a temporary shield from the aftermath of their impulsive actions.

Stepping out of the hotel room, Jeonghan's first instinct was to call Joshua for a quick escape. The clock stubbornly displayed 2 a.m., an hour that should have deterred most people. However, Joshua, known for his penchant for late-night revelry, was the chosen confidant in this moment of crisis.

"My friend!" Joshua's voice, brimming with excitement, greeted Jeonghan as he opened the car door. In the midst of his own turmoil, Jeonghan found himself trapped with an exuberant Joshua. After directing Joshua's driver to head towards his home, Jeonghan couldn't escape the barrage of questions.

"I was looking for you, Jeonghan. Where have you been?" Joshua's enthusiasm clashed with Jeonghan's drained energy. Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan turned away, seeking a reprieve from the relentless inquiries.

"That's mean!" Joshua's protest echoed before giving way to the unexpected sounds of snoring. A chuckle escaped Jeonghan as he realized Joshua had succumbed to sleep, leaving the impending conversation for a more conscious moment.

The car ride became a surreal blend of exhaustion and Joshua's snores. Jeonghan, lost in his thoughts, braced himself for the inevitable talk he would have with Joshua once the overly-energetic friend returned to full consciousness. The night's events had left Jeonghan grappling with a mix of emotions, from regret to amusement at the unpredictable turns his life had taken.

The shrill ring of Jeonghan's phone pierced through the haze of his extended slumber, rousing him from a deep sleep. His body, oddly resistant to the routine of heading to work, had lingered in the realm of dreams, perhaps still grappling with the disappointment from the previous day's board meeting.

"Hm..." Jeonghan's response was a simple murmur, his voice carrying the remnants of a dizzy head after indulging in an unusually prolonged sleep—almost 12 hours of it.

As he reluctantly confronted the reality of the waking world, his secretary's voice permeated through the fog. Apologies were offered before the revelation struck like a sudden storm. "Your nephew, Mingyu, got into a fight and is now in a detention center."

Jeonghan's eyes snapped wide open, the abrupt news shattering the remnants of his grogginess. "What?!" The word escaped his lips, a mix of shock and frustration evident in his tone.

"He was bullied and made a defensive move, but they were captured by the cops as they fought behind a convenience store building," the secretary explained, weaving a narrative that only added to Jeonghan's growing list of familial challenges. Mingyu, his sister's son, seemed to have an uncanny ability to find trouble at the most inconvenient times, leaving Jeonghan to grapple with the repercussions once again. The responsibility he shouldered for his nephew intensified, adding another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous day.

A curse escaped Jeonghan's lips, a frustrated response to the recurrent challenges posed by his nephew, Kim Mingyu. The young troublemaker seemed to have a knack for causing chaos at the most inconvenient moments, leaving Jeonghan to bear the consequences.

Reflecting on recent incidents, Jeonghan's frustration intensified. Two weeks prior, he found himself reluctantly purchasing an expensive painting after Mingyu 'innocently' sneezed in front of it. A month ago, an expensive plate was shattered at a family gathering, forcing Jeonghan into the heart-wrenching position of apologizing to his grandfather for Mingyu's actions.

Sighing deeply, Jeonghan ended the call after obtaining the address of the police station where Mingyu was detained. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders once again. Determined to impart a lesson, Jeonghan knew he had to handle the situation personally.

A decade had passed since the tragic accident that claimed Jeonghan's sister and her husband, thrusting him into the role of responsibility for their son, Mingyu. Initially, the burden was shared with his parents, a delicate balancing act of familial obligations. However, as Mingyu navigated through his teenage years, his penchant for trouble escalated, prompting Jeonghan to shoulder the responsibility more exclusively.

Considering the high schooler's propensity for getting into mischief, Jeonghan made a conscious decision not to burden his aging parents further. He chose to bear the weight of guardianship alone, shielding his elderly parents from the additional stress.

As he prepared to confront Mingyu's latest misadventure at the police station, Jeonghan couldn't help but ponder the alternate scenario. Imagining what would happen if his father received this distressing information brought a shiver down his spine. The elderly patriarch, already burdened with the weight of years, would likely find the news overwhelming.

Jeonghan entered the police station, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he spotted Mingyu in the detention room, anxiously calling out his name. However, his heartbeat skipped a fraction when his eyes fell upon you, seated in front of the officer. The stark contrast in your attire from the previous night caught him off guard, and confusion clouded his features. The officer introduced you as Mingyu's homeroom teacher, and Jeonghan's mind raced to piece together the unfolding situation.

Jeonghan, torn between frustration and the need to understand the circumstances, addressed the officer, "I'm Jeonghan, Mingyu's guardian. What's going on?"

The officer explained the situation, detailing the fight and emphasizing the need for the guardian's presence before Mingyu could be released. Jeonghan's gaze shifted between you and Mingyu, sensing an air of complexity in the dynamics at play.

Other students had already been released and gone home, but Mingyu remained in captivity. You, as the homeroom teacher, withheld the crucial signature needed for his release until Mingyu's guardian arrived.

"Do you have time to talk after this, sir?" Your polite inquiry caught Jeonghan off guard as you both made your way to the parking lot. His eyes briefly flickered at Mingyu, who observed the peculiar atmosphere between his uncle and his homeroom teacher.

Jeonghan, his curiosity piqued, nodded in agreement, and motioned for Mingyu to wait in the car. As Mingyu stepped out of earshot, Jeonghan's heart raced in anticipation. What could you possibly want to discuss? Was it about the events of last night? Did you remember him as vividly as he remembered you?

The memory of the night played in Jeonghan's mind like a vivid reel. Your tight black dress accentuating every curve, flawless makeup adorned with a bold red lipstick, had captivated him. Yet, it was the sweet and unexpectedly addictive scent of caramel popcorn from your cologne that lingered in his thoughts. What a twisted charm you have.

Standing before him in your teaching attire—a baby blue blouse paired with white wide pants—your natural beauty surpassed Jeonghan's expectations. The sudden shift in his breath caught him off guard as he momentarily lost himself in the understated grace you exuded.

"Mr. Yoon?" Your voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to the present moment.

"I'm so sorry to cause you trouble. I know Mingyu's family is very busy, but your presence was rather important for him and also for me as his homeroom teacher," you explained, and Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion lingering. The events of last night loomed in the background, and he wondered if they would be addressed.

As he waited for an explanation, you continued, "If you have time tomorrow morning, I would like to have a discussion about Mingyu's future education and career. Here's my contact information: Just in case you couldn't be present tomorrow, please inform me."

Jeonghan found himself in the counseling room of Mingyu's high school, bewildered by an inexplicable impulse that led him to cancel a crucial meeting. Outside, he waited with a strange mix of patience and nervous anticipation, uncertain of the forthcoming conversation. The memory of the recent hotel encounter lingered—an unspoken chapter between you two.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Yoon. I just finished a class. Thank you for coming. Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee?" Your unexpected presence disrupted Jeonghan's thoughts, prompting him to swiftly adjust his posture as he graciously declined your offer.

Seated across from him, technically in front of the table that acted as a silent mediator, you handed Jeonghan Mingyu's academic report. As he immersed himself in its contents, a narrative of Mingyu's scholastic journey unfolded, a canvas painted with both struggles and untapped potential.

The room held tension, an unspoken dialogue brewing beneath the surface. Jeonghan's eyes moved meticulously over the report, absorbing the nuances of Mingyu's academic challenges juxtaposed with his aspirations.

"As you can discern, Mingyu faces academic challenges. However, he stands as our school's basketball captain with tremendous potential for a professional career," you began, extending another paper containing Mingyu's career aspirations.

The weight of Mingyu's familial background as a businessperson hung in the air. "But, Mr. Yoon, Mingyu himself expressed zero interest in the business industry; his heart is set on pursuing a career in sports."

Jeonghan gently placed the report on the table, his hand following suit. His eyes, now directed at you, betrayed a mix of surprise and realization. "I never knew about this," he confessed, the admission carrying a layer of contemplation.

Jeonghan's mouth grew dry as he spoke, gratitude laced in his words. "Thank you so much for telling me this. Mingyu and I never really had a conversation about his school or his hobby."

You nodded empathetically, acknowledging the complexities of understanding a high schooler. "I understand, Mr. Yoon. Mingyu might seem like a very happy teenager, but we never truly know what's inside his head. I recommend you have a talk with him regarding his future; it'll be a good approach in case you two have different perspectives, and I believe both perspectives are important."

Jeonghan, appreciating the advice, nodded in agreement. "Thank you so much for the suggestion. Ms...?"

You gasped, covering your mouth, in a moment of realization. "Oh my goodness, I haven't introduced myself. Y/n, Ji Y/n. I'm a Korean teacher and also Mingyu's homeroom teacher."

As Jeonghan smiled, he expressed gratitude for Mingyu having a kind and attentive teacher. The mention of considering private school after the last incident hinted at the complexities of Mingyu's situation. "Ms. Ji, I am glad to know that Mingyu has a very kind and attentive teacher in his school. My family has considered sending him to a private school since the last incident. But I don't think we have to."

Jeonghan swore he noticed a faint blush on your cheeks as a soft chuckle escaped you. "It was such a big compliment for a teacher like me, Mr. Yoon," you responded, your tone carrying a modest grace. The unexpected exchange left a subtle warmth in the air, a departure from the serious tone of their earlier conversation.

As the discussion concluded, both of you walked out of the counseling room. Jeonghan nodded appreciatively as you motioned the way to the school entrance, a tacit agreement to walk together. The rhythmic tap of your shoes against the hallway floor echoed the unspoken tension lingering between you two.

Upon reaching the entrance, Jeonghan felt an itch to address the elephant in the room. Did you recognize him from the recent one-night stand just two days ago? "Ms. Ji..." he began, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You turned to him, your attention fully on him, a smile gracing your face. Jeonghan, in that moment, found himself captivated by your smile, his gaze unconsciously drawn to your lips. Memories of the recent encounter flickered in his mind, an unexpected longing surfacing.

"Perhaps..." Jeonghan hesitated, his mind wrestling with the question he was about to pose. "Have we ever met before?"

He shook his head hastily, answering his own question before you had the chance. "No," he said, the denial leaving a lingering tension in the air.

"Perhaps you remember me?"

Your eyes widened at his inquiry, and the sudden realization flickered in your gaze. Jeonghan's unspoken question had found its answer.

Your walls were clenching as Jeonghan thrust into you passionately. The way you moan around the room made Jeonghan's head go dizzy. You whisperedly asked him to speed up the pace before your lips met each other, craving the moistness caused by lust.

"You're so tight, baby." Jeonghan's sigh escaped from his mouth as his pelvis moved harder than before, earning your climax. He swore that the way you clenched him had sent him into heaven. Your sinful moans are Beethoven's masterpiece. The way your lips flushed, your cheeks stained red, and your hair stuck to your forehead were magical sights for him.

His left hand roamed your body. Praise them like you are such a goddess of beauty. His finger has met your nerves, and playing it has made your walls clench him even more, making it harder to thrust.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as he could feel your walls tighten and you hit your climax. The thrust became slopier, and it was the moment he felt that he was ready to burst because of you.

"Where do you want it, baby?" Jeonghan whispered in your ear. Thrusting you harder is a sign for you to answer him immediately, or he might burst inside you.

"My mouth, my mouth, please."

Shit, you'll be the death of him.

"Argh.."

Jeonghan's eyes are wide open. He just cummed on his bed while sleeping. Jeonghan blinked, his surroundings shifting from the intimate scene to the familiar sight of his bedroom. The remnants of the dream lingered, leaving him disoriented. He sighed, realizing it was all just a vivid fantasy playing in his subconscious mind. The sensations, the passion—all evaporated as he woke up to the reality of his empty room.

Jeonghan shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering heat of the dream. The intensity of the emotions felt so real, yet he was alone in his bed, his body untouched by the events that had unfolded in his mind.

Jeonghan, dressed in his work attire, couldn't help but notice Mingyu having breakfast at the table. Reflecting on yourr conversation from the previous day, he decided to break his usual routine and take a seat across from his nephew. It had been quite some time since Jeonghan had the chance to grab a morning meal.

As Mingyu chewed his food, his uncle's unexpected presence halted the motion of his jaw. The helper, accustomed to preparing breakfast for Mingyu alone, observed the unusual scene with curiosity. Confusion knitted Mingyu's brow as he wondered about Jeonghan's sudden change in behavior.

Jeonghan broke the silence, "How's school, Mingyu?" Mingyu, caught off guard, stammered a bit before replying, "Great, I have a lot of fun in this school."

Jeonghan nodded, deciding to share his own surprise. He casually mentioned that he had visited Mingyu's school the day before. Mingyu's reaction was unexpected, a slight protest evident on his face. Jeonghan, raising an amused eyebrow, asked, "Why are you so worked up?"

Mingyu confessed, "I don't want to be transferred to another school. What happened last time was a mistake of mine; I failed to control myself." He dropped his head, a mix of guilt and apprehension clouding his expression.

Jeonghan's brow rose, and he clarified, "Who said you're going to be transferred?" Mingyu, bewildered, tried to explain, "I heard that—"

Cutting him off, Jeonghan interjected, "I met your homeroom teacher. She told me you're a really good basketball player in school. Is that true?" A hint of pride and curiosity danced in Jeonghan's eyes, dispelling any misunderstanding that Mingyu might have had.

Mingyu's cheeks colored with embarrassment as he shrugged, "I don't know. She's praising me so much by saying that to you."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Do you want to go to a sports school in the future?" he asked, curious about Mingyu's aspirations, although he already had a good idea of the answer.

Mingyu shrugged back, asking tentatively, "Would you let me?"

Mirroring Mingyu's movement, Jeonghan replied, "Of course, why not?"

A wide smile lit up Mingyu's face upon hearing his uncle's supportive words. His laughter bubbled with excitement as he processed what had just transpired. "No way! Is Ms. Ji behind this?" Mingyu shook his head in disbelief. "Woah, Ms. Ji... Woah! I can't believe this."

Jeonghan observed his nephew's elation with amusement, his mind already brewing with a mischievous idea. "With one condition," he added, immediately causing Mingyu's smile to drop.

"What is it?" Mingyu asked impatiently.

Jeonghan rose from his seat, finishing his breakfast and preparing to leave for work. Just as he was about to go, he turned his head toward Mingyu and dropped a bombshell, "Set me up with Ms. Ji."

He walked away, leaving Mingyu stunned and taken aback by his uncle's unexpected request. The air hung with a mix of surprise and anticipation as Mingyu processed the playful twist his uncle had added to the morning conversation.

#densworld🌼#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen series #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader

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pxnsneverland · 8 months ago

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Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2746

warnings/notes: violence, mentions of murder, gang activity

Chapter 1: The Alpha's Return

As Austin pushed open the heavy oak door, the overwhelming cacophony of sound hit him like a physical force. The deep bass of the music thrummed through his chest and reverberated in his ears. The mixture of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke assaulted his senses as he made his way into the dimly lit bar. Flickering lights hung haphazardly above the scattered tables and stools, casting shadows that seemed to dance with the rhythm of the music. In one corner of the bar, a group of men gathered around a pool table, their voices loud and boisterous as they cheered on their game. In another corner, a couple was engaged in a heated argument, their voices rising above the din of the bar.

Jerry Thompson, known as 'The Butcher' for his towering stature and imposing presence, immediately spotted Austin from his perch at the bar. Jerry's muscular arms were adorned with intricate tattoos that seemed to come alive with each movement as he stood up to greet Austin. His leather jacket emitted a low creaking sound as he moved, adding to his intimidating aura. With sharp eyes constantly scanning the room, he appeared to be assessing every person and potential threat.

"Austin!" Jerry bellowed with a wide grin, revealing his crooked teeth. Austin returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm and they met in a brief but firm hug, both happy to see each other after so long apart.

"Ace of Spades!" Jerry exclaimed, slapping Austin's back with a hearty laugh. The impact sent vibrations through Austin's body and he couldn't help but grin at his friend's exuberance. His booming voice echoed throughout the dimly-lit bar, drawing the attention of the other patrons. Heads turned, conversations paused, and eyes widened as they caught sight of the alpha in their midst.

"Still got your sense of humor, I see," Austin replied with a smirk. Despite the weariness in his voice, his piercing blue eyes sparkled with a fierce determination that radiated authority. He let his gaze wander around the room, taking in the familiar faces of his pack members and noting the new ones who had joined in his absence. The gang had clearly grown in numbers'.

"The pack's missed you," Jerry said, his deep voice barely audible over the pounding bass of the music. He motioned towards a back booth where a few burly men sat hunched over their drinks, their eyes gleaming under the dim lights. Jerry's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, his body tense with unease. He leaned in closer to Austin, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Things haven't been easy since you've been gone; a few of the newer guys, they don't respect the code... or you."

Austin straightened up, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group. The tension in his posture was palpable as he issued a silent challenge. "Name them," he demanded, his voice laced with authority and steel.

Jerry seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze trailing away from Austin’s intense stare. He let out a deep sigh, the weight of the situation evident on his weathered face. Finally, with a heavy hand he pointed towards the corner of the bar where two young bikers were shooting pool. Their boisterous laughter filled the room, oblivious to the fact that they were being talked about.

“Those two. Dal and Jimmy.” Jerry’s voice was rough and gruff, barely audible above the rowdy crowd. “Think they can run things their way. They’ve been challenging your rules ever since you left.”

Austin’s piercing gaze followed Jerry’s finger and then slowly moved to focus on the two men in question. They seemed hardly more than boys really, their matching leather jackets and cocky attitudes giving off the impression of overgrown pups trying to mark their territory. The sight of them sparked something in his chest - a cold, calculated anger that had him clenching his fists at his sides. “I see.” His words were sharp and clipped, void of any emotion except for a simmering rage that only those who knew him well could detect. With a determined stride, he pushed past Jerry and made a beeline towards Dal and Jimmy who were still engrossed in their game of pool. The tension in the room felt palpable as all eyes turned to watch Austin approach the group of challengers. Austin's body visibly trembles with a mix of rage and anticipation as he approaches the oblivious duo. His broad shoulders square up, ready for a fight, while his icy gaze pierces through them like a sharp blade. The laughter dies down around them as they finally notice the Alpha's approach.

Dal, a lanky man with a scar running down the side of his face, meets Austin's stare with a smug smirk that exudes defiance. Jimmy, shorter and stockier with a wild mop of red hair, takes an instinctive step back in fear and quickly averts his gaze under Austin's intense stare.

With a voice full of authority and malice, Austin addresses them. "You got a problem with my rules?”

Dal's smirk twists into a snarl as he leans back against the pool table, crossing his arms over his chest in challenge. "Our problem ain't with your damn rules, Butler," he spits out Austin's title with contempt. "Our problem is with you.”

The pool stick falls from Dal's grip with a loud clatter as he stands, his eyes blazing with anger. "You've been locked up for two years and now you think you can just waltz back in here and reclaim your throne as alpha?" He takes a threatening step forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "We've managed just fine without you, Butler. Who's to say you're still the strongest?"

"Is that a challenge, Dal?" Austin's voice pierced through the dim bar like a shard of ice, freezing the air around them. His crystal blue eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity as they locked onto Dal, who could feel his heart rate quicken under the alpha’s unwavering stare. The muscles in Austin's arms bulged as he stood tall, crossing them over his broad chest in a show of dominance

Dal shifted uneasily, almost feeling physically pinned under the weight of Austin's intense glare. The smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a fierce determination that hardened his features. Meeting Austin's gaze head-on, he squared his shoulders and spoke with a steely resolve, “Yeah, Butler. It is."

Without warning, Austin lunged at Dal with such ferocious speed that he was nothing but a blur. The crowd's hushed gasps were drowned out by the sickening thud of Austin's fist connecting with Dal's face. A fresh cut on his lip oozed blood as he lay sprawled on the ground, his body trembling with pain and shock.The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension as Dal slowly rose to his feet, wiping the blood away with a shaking hand. His gaze locked onto Austin's, filled with a fiery defiance. Without hesitation, he launched himself at Austin, their bodies colliding in a flurry of fists and grunts. But Austin was a force to be reckoned with, easily overpowering Dal with his brute strength and merciless blows. Each punch landed like a sledgehammer, causing bones to crack and skin to split. The smell of iron permeated the air as blood spilled, staining the floor beneath them. Dal was no match for Austin's relentless assault. A thunderous left hook knocked him off balance, leaving him dazed and stumbling. Before he could regain his bearings, Austin charged at him like a raging animal, slamming him back against the pool table.

Pain exploded through Dal's body as he hit the hard surface, gasping for air as if his lungs had been crushed. He struggled to focus through blurred vision, gazing up at Austin who loomed over him like a giant. With one final burst of strength, Dal tried to push himself up off the table, only to receive a brutal kick to the gut that sent him crashing back down. As he lay there, helpless and defeated, all he could taste was blood and defeat in his mouth.

Austin stood over him, chest heaving and fists clenched. His ice-blue eyes were alight with a victorious glint as he looked down at his conquest. The crowd parted in silence, every pair of eyes glued to the spectacle. Austin’s gaze shifted from Dal to the onlookers, his expression stern and unwavering. His voice rang out clear and commanding through the silence, “Let this be a lesson to all of you - I am your alpha, your leader...and I will not tolerate disloyalty or disrespect in my pack.”

He cast a final glance at Dal, then turned towards Jerry who had been watching the scene unfold from the sidelines. The Butcher's face bore a grimace of satisfaction; he approved of what Austin had done. Austin slowly walked back to him, the crowd parting to make way for their leader.

"Painful but necessary," Jerry muttered as he draped an arm around Austin's shoulder, "hopefully this little display of power will keep them in line."

Austin simply nodded his agreement, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. However, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He knew that he had needed to assert his authority but the violent encounter left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hoped that no other member would dare to challenge him; he didn't want to shed any more blood of his own pack. But he would stand his ground and uphold order, no matter the cost.

"Well, that was a helluva welcome back party," Jerry chuckled and slapped Austin on the back. The two walked to the exit, their imposing figures outlined by the dimly lit bar behind them. Austin didn’t respond; his thoughts were elsewhere – on Bonnie Barlow. How would she react to tonight's events? Would she be afraid of him...or for him? As Austin sat in his cell, thoughts of Bonnie consumed his mind. She had been his only source of comfort during his time in jail, and now that he was out, she still lingered in his thoughts. It had been five long years since he last saw her, and he couldn't help but wonder how she had been and what she was up to now. Memories of her petite figure and expressive eyes flooded his mind, stirring a mix of emotions within him. Remorse for the mistakes he made and an intense yearning to see her again. His heart clenched at the reality of his situation. He wasn't just a man – he was an alpha, a werewolf. And Bonnie? She was the quiet beauty who had found her way into his heart, and then fled from the violent world he inhabited. Even as he craved to have her back in his life, Austin couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth. The world he ruled with an iron fist was no place for someone as delicate and empathetic as Bonnie.

With a troubling thought gnawing at his mind, Austin abruptly shrugged off Jerry's arm and strode out into the cool, crisp night air. His heavy boots crunched with each step on the gravel path as he made his way to his motorcycle. The machine stood there like a ferocious animal lying in wait, its metallic body glinting in the moonlight.

"Hey, where you off to?" Jerry called after him, but Austin did not even spare a glance as he pulled on his leather gloves and climbed onto his ride. His mind was too cluttered with thoughts of Bonnie, bittersweet memories that brought both solace and a haunting pain.

The engine roared to life beneath him, a low growl that reverberated through the peaceful night. With one last look at the bar where his pack was still celebrating their leader's victorious return, he revved the engine and tore off into the darkness. The wind whipped against his face as he raced down the deserted roads, slicing through the quiet stillness of the night. He welcomed the chilling gusts, hoping they would blow away the weight of remorse weighing on him. But no amount of speed or distance could erase Bonnie's image from his mind or ease the ache in his heart. His thoughts kept returning to that fateful day five years ago when Bonnie had left.

She had vanished into the ether, leaving behind a void in Austin's life that he couldn't fill. No call, no text, no warning. One day, they were holding each other at her father's funeral - her tears staining his shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around her. The next day, she was gone, taking all traces of herself with her. Austin searched high and low, calling every number he had for her and knocking on every door he could think of. But she had disappeared without a trace, leaving him feeling lost and alone. Weeks turned into months, which turned into years. The uncertainty of not knowing where Bonnie had gone or even if she was still alive weighed heavily on Austin's mind and heart. He would wake up from nightmares, drenched in sweat and trembling, his thoughts consumed by visions of Bonnie being hurt or in danger. As much as he wanted to protect her like he did when they were younger, he couldn't do anything if he didn't even know where she was.

The soft purr of his motorbike echoed through the stillness, offering him a strange sense of tranquility as he veered down onto the dirt path that led home. Austin’s cabin, nestled in the secluded wilderness away from town, was as rugged and unyielding as he was. A shabby structure with weathered timber walls and a roof so worn it seemed to blend into the overcast night sky. Sliding off his bike, Austin crossed the threshold, stepping into the austere living space. Minimalistic and practical just like him. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth filled with charred logs from a fire long gone. The rest of the furniture was plain and functional - a worn-out couch, a small dining table, and his bed tucked into an alcove.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and made his way to the worn-out armchair by the fireplace, sinking into its familiar comfort. Pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a dusty bottle, he stared at the golden liquid swirling within. Each drop mirrored years of torment and solitude that had gradually gnawed away at his soul. Drinking was not his means to drown the pain; instead, it was more of a ritual – an acknowledgement of his broken spirit and an attempt to numb the hurt festering within. The air around him crackled as he struck a match and brought it close to the dry logs in the hearth. The fire leaped up instantly, hungry flames lapping at the wood while releasing whispers of smoke into the air. Austin watched the dance of the fire, his mind lost in the glowing depths as he sipped from his glass. The warmth of the Scotch spread through him, a perfect foil to the cold emptiness he had grown accustomed to. The silence of his cabin was only broken by the sporadic crackle of the flames and the quiet hum of woodland creatures outside. This solitude was his sanctuary and yet it was also his prison cell.

The tranquil silence was broken in an instant by a shrill ring that made Austin jump. He quickly realized it was his cell phone, a device he hadn't heard from in what seemed like ages. His fingers fumbled for the familiar weight in his pocket, almost forgetting it had been there this whole time. The screen displayed ‘Unknown’ as the call persisted, daring him to answer and reveal the identity of the caller. Who could be reaching out to him, someone he had not seen at the bar? With a deep breath, Austin pressed accept and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice came out rough and hesitant.

"Austin," said a soft voice on the other end.

Instantly recognizing the voice that had haunted his thoughts for years, Austin's heart began to race in his chest. The drink in his hand suddenly felt like a lead weight, and he carefully set it down on the small wooden table beside him. His fingers trembled slightly as he tightened his grip on the phone, as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

"Bonnie..."

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler fandom #austin butler fluff #biker!austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler major gale buck cleven #austin butler smut #austinbutleredit #austin butler feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic

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redvexillum · 12 days ago

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A/N: This is set in my Mandatory Overtime universe. I can't seem to let Sunshine go. Damn, I should've just written a long fic for them. Also PSA, licking doorknobs is not indicative of writing angst. Kit. Stop spreading lies. *glares*

SUMMARY: You and Vox shared a tangled, messy relationship—one where Valentino always seemed to cast his shadow over you both. You understood why he had to be part of the picture, but that didn’t stop you from yearning for the impossible. You wanted Vox to choose you.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, soft!vox, complicated relationship, on/off relationship, p in v

A cacophony of remixed Christmas songs blared through the air, their jarring, cheery beats paired with pulsating red and green lights that sliced through the dimly lit room like daggers. The scent in the air was a cocktail of sweat, alcohol, and cloying perfume—a suffocating reminder of how alive and chaotic Voxtek’s annual Christmas party was. The revelry buzzed around you, loud and relentless, but it only seemed to make your chest feel heavier.

You stood off to the side, nodding absently as your coworker droned on about their long, exhausting day. The stem of your martini glass was cool in your hand, the electric blue cosmopolitan inside trembling slightly as your grip tightened. Your gaze wandered, searching—inevitably landing on him.

Vox.

The man who had the unique talent of being both your salvation and your ruin. He stood out even in this riot of chaos. His sleek, neatly tailored blue suit hugged his frame perfectly, the glow of the lights reflecting off the polished surface of his television-shaped head. His drink—something dark and neat—dangled from his long fingers with effortless grace as he laughed at something Valentino, his ever-present companion, said. The moth demon lounged by his side, all charm and vanity, the two of them shining like kings holding court in the middle of the crowded room.

Your fingers clenched tighter around your glass, and your teeth ground together until your jaw ached. The urge to storm across the room, throw your drink into Vox’s smug face, and watch the ice-cold liquid drip from his perfect suit was almost irresistible. Almost. Instead, you sucked in a sharp breath, downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one angry gulp, and slammed the glass onto the nearest table with a little too much force.

“Getting another drink,” you muttered, though you knew your words were swallowed by the pulsing bass of the music and the hum of laughter and conversation around you. Nobody even noticed as you slipped away, bitterness bubbling in your chest as the sickeningly upbeat rhythm of “Jingle Bell Rock” mocked you with every cheerful note.

The holiday cheer decorating the room—sparkling tinsel, gaudy presents, mistletoe strung above every doorway—only served to sour your mood further. Each garish ornament seemed to twinkle with laughter at your misery.

Sliding onto a barstool, you slouched forward and gestured for another drink. This stool was going to be your home for the next half hour—just long enough to dull the ache in your chest—before you went back to your real home. Alone.

On Christmas Day.

The bartender slid a fresh drink into your waiting hand. You stared at the swirling liquid, your head buzzing, your heart tight with an ache you refused to name. The burn of alcohol in your throat did nothing to soothe the bitterness gnawing at you.

Your relationship with Vox was... complicated. The truth of it, spoken aloud, sounded sordid and empty: you were sleeping with your boss. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Or maybe less. In Hell, hierarchy was everything, and for Vox, power meant everything. Valentino and Velvette were essential to maintaining his control over his territory. You understood that.

You had to.

But understanding it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Your fingers tightened around the glass as you lifted it, drinking deeply, hoping the alcohol would drown the unwelcome emotions swirling in your chest. Hell wasn’t a place for attachments or exclusivity. No one stayed with just one person for eternity, not here. It was absurd to even think about it.

So why the fuck does it still hurt?

You stared at your reflection in the swirling depths of your drink, the words echoing in your head like a cruel mantra. You weren’t hurt. You weren’t upset. You weren’t angry that, once again, Vox chose to spend his evening with Valentino, his public partner, instead of you.

You weren’t jealous.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you took another drink and tried not to look back at him.

You didn’t love him.

Not even close.

Sure, your boss had everything that turned heads in Hell—power, influence, money, and a talent in bed that left you breathless.

But love?

Nah.

The very thought made you scoff, a bitter laugh bubbling from your throat. What you felt for him was raw, primal, transactional.

Not love.

But the universe, in its perverse humour, seemed to think otherwise. The song shifted, and Mariah Carey’s unmistakable voice belted out the opening to “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” You groaned aloud, the sound swallowed by the party’s din, and chugged your drink in one aggressive gulp. The burn of the alcohol wasn’t nearly enough to drown the ache simmering under your skin. Slamming the empty glass onto the bar, you shot the bartender a glare and jabbed a finger toward the counter.

"Another," you demanded, your voice sharp despite the festive chaos around you.

Thirty more minutes. That was all you’d allow yourself. Thirty minutes to sit here, drink until the edges of your thoughts blurred, and then go home. Maybe you’d pull your vibrator out of the drawer, let it fill the void for a few fleeting moments, and then collapse into bed, pretending none of this mattered. Pretending you weren’t bitter. Pretending you weren’t sad. Pretending you didn’t feel the icy tendrils of loneliness wrap tighter around your heart with every passing minute.

Goddammit.

The alcohol was doing a piss-poor job of cheering you up.

In the corner of the room, Vox’s mechanical systems emitted a faint, insistent beep, an irritating reminder that his internal software was overdue for an upgrade. He sighed softly to himself, adjusting the bow tie of his meticulously tailored suit. That was the cost of his biomechanical form—constant maintenance, relentless upkeep.

Truthfully, he had little interest in the party. He was here for two reasons: to appease Valentino, his ever-demanding lover, and to see you.

His glowing screen flickered faintly as his gaze scanned the crowded room, moving automatically from face to face until it landed on you. There you were, sitting at the bar, hunched slightly over a drink, a faint scowl etched into your features. You looked radiant despite your sour mood. The sequined cocktail dress you wore hugged your figure, catching the flashing lights and making you shimmer like a living star. The plunging V-neckline left little to the imagination, and he felt a familiar heat coil low in his gut.

He smirked to himself. Of course, you’d turn heads tonight.

You always did.

Earlier, he had told you that he needed to entertain Valentino for the evening, brushing it off as a necessary performance. You had smiled—damn that smile—and shrugged, saying you understood. Professionalism. That was the facade the two of you wore in public, acting every bit the obedient employee and the aloof, untouchable boss. But there were moments. Fleeting, stolen moments when your gazes lingered too long, when his hand would brush against yours, when his thoughts strayed to pulling you close and keeping you for himself.

Right now, standing beside Valentino, those same thoughts teased at the edges of his mind. How easy it would be to cross the room, sweep you into his arms, and drag you to the darkest corner of the room where the two of you could forget the rest of the world existed.

“Ugh!” Valentino’s dramatic groan broke through his reverie. The moth demon scowled at his phone, his manicured nails clicking against the screen as he fumed. “I swear, if this whore ignores my call one more time…” His glowing red eyes flashed behind the pink-tinted heart-shaped glasses.

Vox forced out a laugh, though his patience was wearing thin. Between the blaring music, Valentino’s whining, and the incessant beeping in his head, his mood was unravelling quickly. “Val,” he drawled, his voice low and laced with feigned amusement, “try not to do anything rash. It’s Christmas, for Hell’s sake.”

Val blinked once, then twice, before puffing leisurely on his long, ornate pipe. The pink smoke swirled lazily around him, casting his devilish grin in an almost ethereal glow. “Oh, are you due for another upgrade, Voxxy?” he purred, the nickname dripping from his lips like honey. “Maybe I can keep you company while you’re… upgrading.” He leaned closer, his grin widening into something sultry and teasing.

Vox barely resisted the urge to roll his glowing eyes again. The last time Val had “kept him company” during an upgrade, Val had received a call from Angel Dust halfway through and left Vox high and dry—literally. The memory still burned. He had been stuck there, slouched in his office chair, pants down, painfully hard, and utterly alone when you had walked in.

Your startled yelp had been mortifying enough, but the mischievous glint in your eyes and the endless teasing that followed? That was a special kind of Hell. You never knew why he’d been in that state—Vox had made sure of that. You hated Val, after all, and if you’d known it was because Val had ditched him for a call, your teasing would’ve turned into something far worse.

Suppressing the bitter swirl of memory, Vox squared his shoulders, his posture straightening into its usual imposing form. His lips pressed into a tight line before curling into a forced smile. “No, Val,” he said with exaggerated patience, searching for a plausible excuse. “You’d only…” He paused, mind racing. “Delay the upgrade speed. It’s a delicate process.”

He threw in one of his trademark grins for good measure, but Val was already engrossed in his phone, scrolling obsessively and muttering about unanswered messages. Vox let out a quiet sigh, irritation flickering beneath his polished exterior.

Fine. Perfect.

Before vanishing in a crackle of static, Vox allowed himself one lingering glance at you across the room. The sequined dress you wore still glimmered under the party lights, catching his gaze like a magnet. His chest tightened as he etched the image into his memory, unwilling to let it go just yet.

The moment Vox stepped into his office, he let out a long, steadying sigh. This was his sanctuary—a place of order, where chaos bowed to his control. The faint hum of monitors greeted him like an old friend, and he sank into his chair with a rare sense of relief.

His eyes drifted to the tangled wires waiting for him on the desk, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. He couldn’t help but remember the night you’d found him awkwardly tangled in those same wires. One thing had led to another, and—

Focus. Vox shook his head sharply, a faint tinge of warmth creeping up his neck. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in memories of you… and your plump lips... and the way they felt when—

Damn it.

Forcing himself back to the task at hand, he summoned the wires with a flick of his fingers. They slithered through the air like obedient serpents, plugging neatly into the ports at the back of his head. The familiar sensation of connection settled over him, and he exhaled slowly, emptying his mind as the system began its reboot.

Data organized itself in tidy streams, his consciousness dimming as the upgrade process took over. It was a slow, meticulous procedure, one that required hours to complete. As his body relaxed into the chair, Vox allowed himself to drift into a light, dreamless slumber, welcoming the brief reprieve.

But peace never lasted long.

The sharp bang of his office door swinging open jolted him upright, his systems momentarily glitching as his muscles tensed. A flare of annoyance sparked within him, ready to ignite into full-blown fury at whoever had dared interrupt him.

And then he heard your voice.

“Helloooo~” you called, your tone lilting with a drunken, playful edge. A cascade of giggles followed, bubbling up like sweet champagne.

Vox froze, his chest constricting as he tried to decide whether to greet you or remain perfectly still. His gaze flicked to the progress bar on his internal display. 1%. Barely started. Damn it all.

It had been weeks since the two of you had been alone together—weeks of stolen glances and unspoken longing. And now here you were, waltzing into his sanctuary, dishevelled and carefree, breaking every ounce of control, he prided himself on.

Vox’s indecisiveness was his undoing. Before he could resolve whether to stay passive or act, you padded closer, your presence lighting up the sterile office like a bright spark in the dark. The intoxicating scent of you—familiar yet utterly irresistible—hit him first, followed by the mesmerizing sight of you leaning over him. Your cleavage spilled tantalizingly into view, and Vox cursed silently as blood surged southward, betraying his carefully maintained composure.

You looked devastating up close, the faint sheen of alcohol-induced mischief dancing in your eyes.

"Hmm," you hummed, swaying slightly, one hand gripping your heels while the other clutched a half-empty bottle of scotch. Your lips quirked into a dreamy smile as you pinched your own cheek, wincing with a soft ow. "I’m not dreaming, am I?" you mused, your words slurred ever so slightly.

Vox’s grin widened, though his screen remained dark, a carefully maintained façade of his "upgrade mode." To anyone else, he might appear shut down, lifeless, but he was acutely aware of every movement, every word, every shift of your body.

“Aw, man,” you pouted, your lower lip sticking out in a maddeningly cute way, “I was gonna drink in here.” With zero hesitation, you plopped yourself onto his left knee, straddling him with a familiarity that made his circuits hum.

Your closeness was intoxicating, your scent mingling with the faint heat of your skin. Your fingers hovered dangerously close to his lap, grazing the fabric stretched over his now-hardening cock.

“I was feeling a little naughty, you know,” you teased, leaning closer, mischief twinkling in your half-lidded eyes. “Bet you’d be annoyed if I drank in here, huh?”

Vox had to clench every metaphorical muscle to keep from reacting, though his heart—or its closest biomechanical equivalent—thudded against his chest. He bit back the urge to smirk. Oh, Sunshine, I’m going to tease you so much for this tomorrow. He could already picture the flush spreading across your cheeks when he reminded you of tonight’s antics.

You tilted your head, curiosity glinting in your gaze as you squinted at him. Shifting closer, your hips pressed fully against his thigh, sending sparks of heat racing through his body. Vox’s composure wavered as your dress hitched higher, exposing more of your soft, tempting skin.

"Are you sleeping, Vox?" you whispered, your voice a mix of suspicion and amusement as you pressed your forehead against his screen. "Don’tcha usually have that bouncy logo thing going?"

When no response came, your lips curled into a wicked grin. Vox felt a jolt of anticipation as your fingers began to explore the front of his pants. Your touch deliberate as it pressed firmly against his strained member. You burst into laughter, the sound filling the room like music laced with sin. Your hips rocked against him in your mirth, further testing his self-control.

“Oh my God,” you said, your voice dropping low, dripping with mockery and something darker. “Are you having a wet dream, Vox? Imagining your boyfriend fucking you in the ass?" Though there was a playful lilt to your words, the bitter edge didn’t escape him.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something unspoken. You tilted your head, humming in thought before murmuring, “Should I help you, Vox? Relieve you?”

His restraint was a thin, fragile thread, threatening to snap as you ground against his thigh, soft, breathy moans spilling from your lips.

"It’s not fair," you whispered, your voice quivering with a vulnerability that made his chest ache. “It’s not fair…” Your hips stuttered to a halt, the air thick with the sound of your unsteady breathing. “I… I wanted to spend tonight with you, you know.”

Your words cracked something deep within him. And then, to his horror, he saw it: the shimmering wetness in your eyes, the way you bit your trembling lip, your head bowing as if the weight of the moment had finally crushed you.

Without a second thought, Vox disconnected from the upgrade with a sharp click, the wires snapping free as his hands shot up to grip your waist. He slid you closer, his touch firm but gentle, his screen flickering to life with a soft glow.

“Babydoll,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with concern. His hands steadied you as his heart ached at the sight of your uncharacteristic vulnerability. “What’s wrong?”

His crimson gaze searched yours, desperate to understand the pain he saw there, a pain that cut deeper than he expected, twisting into places he didn’t even realize could hurt.

You jolted when Vox’s hands suddenly grabbed your waist, his fingers strong and grounding. The unexpected movement made your heart leap, and your tear-filled eyes blinked rapidly, scattering the evidence of your vulnerability. Heat rushed to your cheeks, shame and embarrassment burning under your skin.

You forced a bright, shaky smile, trying to mask your emotional turmoil. “What are you talking about?” you teased, voice light, as your arms looped loosely around his neck. You shifted closer, biting your lip at the unmistakable pressure of his hardness pressing against your core. It was a flattering reminder of how much he wanted you, no matter how complicated things had become.

When you stumbled into his office, you hadn’t really planned it. One drink had turned into three—then four—and suddenly, the elevator had become your best friend, carrying you to the one place you thought you could find solace.

You didn’t expect him to be here, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t hoped for it. This was Vox, after all. He practically lived in this office. When you saw his familiar silhouette illuminated by the dim, flickering glow of the computer monitors, something in you had ached to be near him, to hold him, to be held in return.

“You looked like you were about to cr—” Vox started, his voice softer than you expected.

A giggle bubbled out of you, too quick, too bright. “Silly, Vox,” you interrupted, the alcohol thrumming through your veins making your skin hum and your mood twist in erratic directions. You pressed closer to him, chest to chest, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

And he didn’t push you away.

That alone sent a thrilling pulse through your already-buzzed system.

The unspoken agreement between you hung heavy in the air, a deal forged in moments of desperation. Vox had promised to focus on repairing his relationship with Valentino, and you had promised to give him space. You said you’d understand.

But you didn’t agree.

“Where’s Valentino?” you asked, your voice soft as silk, a quiet murmur. Your lips brushed the side of his neck, leaving a featherlight kiss. As you spoke, your fingers moved with practised ease, undoing his bow tie and sliding down to unbutton his crisp shirt.

Vox exhaled sharply, his breath hitching as his hips bucked forward. The friction made you gasp, and he groaned, voice rough and strained. “Oh, fuck, babydoll... we... we can’t do this today.”

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, and your body stiffened. The dark thoughts you’d tried so hard to drown out began to surface, insidious and cruel.If you don’t keep his attention, he’ll forget you. The thought clawed at you. Or worse, he’ll find someone better... someone who’s everything you’re not.

Clenching your teeth, you acted before doubt could take over. With a sharp tug, you ripped open his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor with loud, defiant clicks.

Vox leaned back, startled for a moment, before a lopsided grin spread across his face. The glow of the monitor painted his navy skin in a halo of soft light, making him look even more enticing.

“You were saying?” you purred, tilting your head with a shit-eating grin, defiance sparkling in your eyes.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with electric tension. His grin faltered slightly as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "You're going to be the death of me, babydoll," he murmured, his voice low and full of something dangerous, something irresistible.

You half-expected him to push you away. He was always unyielding when it came to his rules, particularly those tied to maintaining his power. If he did—if he denied you now—you would go. You wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t linger in a space that no longer welcomed you. You would collect what little dignity remained, return home, and let the ache consume you in solitude.

But a desperate, fragile part of you prayed he wouldn’t.

You hid that vulnerability beneath bold lipstick and a smirk, your armour polished and gleaming. Slowly, you licked your lips, drawing his attention to them. “I wanted more than a Christmas bonus, you know?” Your voice carried the teasing edge of a challenge, masking the tremor in your heart.

Vox exhaled a soft laugh, the sound low and indulgent. His sharp fingers moved with deliberate precision as he undid his pants, the zipper’s metallic rasp cutting through the charged air. When his cock sprang free, hard and heavy, twitching with need, a wave of heat rolled through you. He sighed in relief, his head tilting slightly back as if savouring the release.

“Yeah? What more did you want?” he murmured, his crimson gaze dipping to where his hands gripped the hem of your dress. He pulled it up slowly, relishing every inch of exposed skin, until your g-string came into view. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, dropping his head back for a moment as if to collect himself.

You hadn’t expected the night to spiral into this, but as Vox’s reaction played out before you, satisfaction swelled in your chest. Your choice of underwear was a deep navy-blue g-string, custom-made with the Voxtek logo. Its tiny triangle barely covered anything, the string teasingly cutting between your folds. It wasn’t practical, but the effect it had on Vox?

Priceless.

You leaned closer, voice laced with wicked amusement. “I wanted to fuck the CEO of Voxtek tonight,” you said, your tone dripping with defiance as you began to grind against him. Your slick heat slid over the length of his cock, from the tip to the base, then back again, leaving him shuddering under your touch.

Vox let out a strained groan, his hips jerking instinctively to meet your movements. His cock throbbed, desperate for more. “Ah, fuck,” he breathed, voice thick with lust.

Elation surged through you, sending a thrill down your spine. This wasn’t a dream—you pinched your own cheek just to be sure. Pride and boldness swirled together, lifting his hands and pressing them firmly to your breasts. “What’s wrong?” you taunted, flashing him a wicked grin. “Forgot how to fuck a woman?”

His chuckle was low and dark, sending a ripple of heat through you. Without warning, he scooped you up effortlessly and dropped you onto the console behind you. The buttons clicked and beeped beneath your back, and the wall of monitors surrounding you flickered wildly.

“Aren’t you worried I might press the wrong button?” you teased, your voice a sultry purr as you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Vox leaned down, his crimson eyes glowing with hunger. “Oh, doll,” he said, his tone dripping with menace and desire, “you’ve been pressing plenty of my buttons tonight.”

Your heart hammered as his hands slid down to grip your hips, his cock grinding against your clit with delicious friction. Each roll of his hips sent a spark through you, drawing soft moans from your lips.

His pants hit the floor, forgotten, leaving him fully exposed. His cock stood thick and proud, his gaze searing as it roamed over you. Without hesitation, he grasped your dress, his sharp fingers making quick work of freeing your breasts. The cool air brushed against your skin, hardening your nipples, but the fire in his eyes burned hotter than any chill.

The flimsy g-string followed, shredded with a single rough tug. His voice was low, growling as he drank in the sight of you laid bare before him. “Fuck,” he murmured, his hands gliding over your thighs and spreading them wider.

“Is this for me, baby?” Vox growled, his fingers curling around the flimsy, soaked fabric of your ruined underwear. The look in his eyes was ravenous, a predator cornering his prey.

Your lips curled into a coy smile, heart racing as heat surged through your body. “Mhm, maybe?” you teased, voice dripping with playfulness. You bit your bottom lip, feigning innocence as you trailed a finger up his chest. “Are you going to give me an extra Christmas bonus now?”

For a moment, Vox hesitated. His eyes searched your face, flickering with conflict. You recognized the signs—the careful calculation, the tug of his control trying to pull him back. He was teetering between what he wanted and what he thought he should do.

That wouldn’t do.

Your hand wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking him slowly, deliberately. The weight of him in your palm and the way his girth twitched at your touch sent shivers down your spine. You thumbed the slick tip, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him.

“I told you that tonight—ah—” His words dissolved into a moan, his head falling back as if surrendering to the inevitable.

In one swift movement, Vox tore your hand away, lined himself up, and thrust into you in a single, deliberate stroke.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, your back arching as your body accommodated his fullness. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, clutching at his shoulders. Your walls clenched involuntarily, a fluttering grip that drew another groan from him. Every nerve in your body felt alive, buzzing, as his cock filled you completely.

“Ah, you feel fucking amazing as always,” Vox muttered, his voice thick with lust and something deeper—something possessive. He pulled back, then slammed his hips forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless. “Fuck—I can’t even—” Another deep thrust, the sound of his hips meeting yours echoing in the room. “—stay away from your fucking—” His next thrust was angled just right, drawing a cry from your lips. “—cunt.”

He ground his hips forward, the hard press of his pelvis deliberately rubbing against your clit. You let out a loud, wanton moan, spurring him to continue.

Your mind swirled in a haze of pleasure and determination. You’d wanted to spend Christmas with him, and in Hell, the greedy thrived. If you didn’t seize what you wanted with both hands, someone else would.

“Babydoll,” Vox rasped, his tone softer now, laced with an unspoken tenderness. He bowed low, pressing his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss.

But fleeting wasn’t enough. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you deepened the kiss, pouring your longing and desire into it. His cock throbbed inside you in response, hot and insistent.

When you finally broke away to catch your breath, you gave him a sweet, teasing smile. “It’ll be our dirty little secret, baby,” you purred, squeezing your walls around him for emphasis.

The groan he let out was almost guttural, his hips rolling slowly to drag out your shared pleasure. “Fuck, then,” he murmured, thrusting languidly. “Let’s head up to my place after this.” His voice dipped lower, darker. “After I fill you up here, I’m going to wreck you when we get back to my place.”

The promise in his words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. His next thrust was sharp, his hips snapping forward with such force that the console buttons beneath you clicked against your back.

“Going to fuck you so hard,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “you’ll feel me all day tomorrow.”

His words alone had you teetering on the edge. You clawed at your breasts, kneading them, twisting your nipples, desperate to push yourself over. “Yes, yes, yes,” you cried, your climax building rapidly, ready to crash over you in waves.

But then—you heard it.

The sharp tone of an incoming call.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced up. The display on Vox’s screen shifted, and the unmistakable face of Valentino appeared.

For a moment, you froze, fury and humiliation warring within you. Him. Of all people.

The phone continued to ring, each chime an affront to your pride. Vox groaned in frustration, his cock still buried deep inside you. He glanced at the ceiling, his jaw clenched.

By the third ring, he gave in. With a resigned sigh, he answered it.

You didn’t bother masking your annoyance. “Are you seriously picking up right now?” you muttered, glaring at him.

He gave you a helpless shrug, his other hand gripping your thigh possessively. “It’s Valentino,” he said, as if that explained anything.

The vein in your temple throbbed.

Of course it is.

“What?” Vox snapped, his voice sharp and taut, like a whip cracking through the tension in the room. His claws gripped your hips with bruising force, pinning you firmly in place. The weight of his cock still nestled inside you was a cruel reminder of how easily the moment could slip away.

“Vox! Are you done with your little upgrade yet?” Valentino’s drunken drawl came through the speaker, his words slurred and punctuated by the thrum of music and high-pitched giggles in the background.

Vox’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “What do you think?” he bit out, his tone laced with venom.

If Valentino noticed, he didn’t care. “Well, if you’re done, come back to the party, Voxxy,” he purred, dragging out the syllables with smug satisfaction. “Let’s have some fun, you and I.”

The words hung in the air like poison, seeping into the cracks of your resolve.

With a long, weary sigh, Vox mumbled, “Fine," before he hung up.

Then, to your horror, he began to pull away, withdrawing from you with a slow, deliberate motion that left you cold and empty. The loss was visceral, cutting deeper than you could have anticipated.

“Vox—”

He faced you, his features hardened with something between regret and resolve. Your dress hung askew on your body, your torn panties discarded on the floor, and your slickness still glistened on his length. You were utterly exposed, physically and emotionally, and yet he looked ready to leave.

“I told you,” he began, his voice strained as he pressed two fingers against the middle of his forehead, “things are…complicated right now.” His gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something raw—pleading—for your understanding.

Under any other circumstances, perhaps you would have lied, plastered on a fake smile, and forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. That was your modus operandi: fake it till you make it. Pretend it doesn’t hurt. Pretend you don’t care.

But not tonight.

Tonight, you couldn’t.

“Choose me, Vox,” you whispered, your voice trembling, cracking under the weight of your vulnerability. Your lips quivered as you forced a shaky smile, even as tears brimmed in your eyes. “Please… just choose me.”

His eyes widened, the weight of your words settling on his shoulders like a heavy burden. “Sunshine, I—”

“Choose me for just this moment,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely more than a plea. You reached out, your trembling fingers curling around his, giving them the gentlest tug. “Choose me,” you repeated, your words quieter, yet no less desperate.

He hesitated, his body tense, his breath shallow. Then, slowly, he took a small, shuffling step closer.

Your chest ached, every beat of your heart thrumming with uncertainty. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t let him see you break. Not completely. “Just for one moment,” you whispered again, the words catching on the lump in your throat. “Choose me.”

And then—he did.

Vox didn’t leave.

His fingers reached for you, tangling in your hair as he tilted your face toward his. “Just one moment, sunshine?” he murmured, his voice wavering between a laugh and a sigh. “You have no idea…” He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, soft and hesitant, like a promise he was terrified to make. Electricity surged through you at his touch, lighting every nerve in your body aflame.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve chosen you in my mind,” he admitted, his voice low and raw as he pressed you back against the console.

He shifted his hips, aligning himself with you once more. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, his cock stretching and filling you again. The sensation was overwhelming, his heat, his presence, the way his body seemed to melt into yours.

“I want to choose you,” he murmured, his hips pressing flush against yours. “If I had the power to stand alone, I would choose you every moment, every night, every morning.”

His voice softened, cracking under the weight of his confession. His movements became slow and deliberate, as though savouring every thrust, every gasp and moan you gave him.

And at that moment, it wasn’t about Valentino, or power, or complicated deals.

It was just you and him—two souls caught in the tangled mess of desire, longing, and love.

The movements between you softened, slowed, as if the fire of the moment had dimmed. What lingered was a tender passion—a raw, unspoken connection that burned deeper than heat, deeper than desire. His hips rocked gently, rhythmically, pressing against you in a way that sent a quiet, radiant pleasure unfurling through your body like waves lapping at the shore.

Your mind faltered, caught in the web of his words and actions. The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord you weren’t ready to face. You stifled the sob threatening to break free, burying your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar, sharp scent. “I-it feels g-good, Vox,” you murmured, your voice trembling and barely audible, the tears pooling in your eyes blurring your vision.

Each caress, each roll of his hips was gentle, deliberate, as though he was memorizing every inch of you, committing you to some hidden part of himself. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, spreading outward in waves of ecstasy as you finally reached your peak. It was like being wrapped in a blanket—not just one of comfort, but of love, fleeting and fragile, and all the more precious for it.

The sound of his breath, soft and ragged, mingled with your own as his moans deepened. His climax came quietly, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, warmth pooling and binding you to this moment. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close, as if he could stave off the inevitable with the strength of his embrace.

But even this, like all beautiful things, couldn’t last forever.

The shrill sound of Valentino’s call shattered the stillness, cutting through the fragile cocoon you had woven around yourselves. Vox sighed, and for a fleeting, desperate moment, you wished he wouldn’t answer.

But he did.

He always did.

When he hung up, his gaze found yours, and your heart sank. You already knew the truth, saw it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his lips pressed into a resigned line.

“Vox—”

“I have to,” he said softly, almost apologetically.

You nodded, but your throat burned with unshed words. You understood. You always understood. Valentino was his path to power, to everything he worked for, and you… you were something he couldn’t let himself fully have. Not yet.

Maybe...

Maybe not ever.

You didn’t cry when he carefully withdrew from you, the loss of him leaving you hollow. You didn’t cry as he fixed his clothes, each motion measured and deliberate. You didn’t cry when he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a touch that lingered longer than it should have.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my sunshine,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of regret and affection.

You didn’t cry when the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the dim light of his office. Even as the sticky remnants of your union slipped down your thighs, even as the alcohol in your veins made the room spin, you didn’t cry.

You couldn’t cry.

Because you knew.

From the moment you fell for Vox, you knew what you were signing up for—how loving him meant weathering the storms of heartbreak, how it meant making room for the shadow of Valentino in the space between you.

He chose you for one moment.

But the thought didn’t bring comfort. If anything, it hollowed you out further, the void he left behind aching with every beat of your heart. You let out a dry, humourless chuckle, the sound brittle and cracked.

Oh.

You weren’t okay with this after all.

Were you?

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

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darlingchronicles · 1 month ago

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RHYTHM & REVELRY | SEASON 1 | EP 1

pairing; TALKSHOW HOST!FEM!READER X GUITARIST!JJ MAYBANK (SMAU)

summary; reader is a talk show co-host of 'rhythm&revelry'. due to the popularity of the show, topics such as gossip, rumors and scandals pop up left and right. when she takes a small hit at the lead guitarist of 'surfer junkies' in an episode, a whirlwind of events is gonna sweep her off her feet. that is...if the cameras don't catch it first

notes; reader goes by 'blue' (backstory stuff), reader does not have description and any photos used are just place holders (you can imagine her however you want), inspired by @zyafics and her amazing SMAU

tags; SMAU, college au, fake-dating | masterlist

episodes; ep 1, ep 2, ep3

calspeaks: hello hello all my name is cal and i am so excited to start a new SMAU for jj! let me know if the formatting is good so i can change it. again, this is highly inspired by @zyafics and her amazing SMAU for rafe! hope you all enjoyed and i will be back with me. love you all <33

other jj works

#jj maybank concept #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #darlingchronicles #jjmaybankSMAU #R&R #rhythm&revelry

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luvrseung · 1 year ago

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𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬

## pairing(s)! motorcycle driver heeseung! x yn!

## synopsis! yn's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and she meets the mysterious Heeseung, a captivating man on a motorcycle. After a brief yet memorable encounter, he vanishes, leaving her longing for more. Months later, they cross paths again. Yn's mixed emotions and Heeseung's determination do they have a happy ending?

## genre! not too bad angst, fluff at the end ! Idk dude I just work here

## wc! 8.9k

## warning(s)! cursing, and not much else?? but if u feel like there should be a warning for anything else, please let me know asap!!

## a/n! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER EVERRRRR. its currently 4:15 am as i post this and i have class at 11! hahaha.. anyways. inspo hit me like a truck... well, like a motorcycle HEHEHE. ahem.. okay. i hope you guys like this i really enjoyed writing it! please send me any feedback! mwah mwah i love uu i go sleep now! also pls don't mind any typos or errors im so delirious rn thank u bye bye

You step out of the dimly lit restroom, returning to the bar, only to find an empty seat beside you, where your boyfriend was seated just moments ago. His jacket remains draped over the backrest, a silent testament to his brief absence. Curiosity piques your interest as you assume he must have also ventured to the restroom. Settling in, you rest your head on your hand, elbow propped against the sleek bar, and survey the vibrant club that surrounds you. The music's thunderous pulse reverberates through your chest, infusing the air with almost a tangible energy. A sensual blend of alcohol and alluring perfumes weaves a heavy tapestry which fills your senses. In this tantalizing environment, the crowd is a dynamic kaleidoscope of movement and emotion—dancers, laughter, clinking glasses, tendrils of smoke swirling upward—each contributing to the sensory feast. Among the sea of passion and revelry, a singular couple draws your unwavering attention. Their fervent embrace seems to defy the boundaries of time and space, an intense kiss that hangs on the precipice of necessity. In an instant, your heart plummets, and the couple reluctantly disentangles from each other. As your gaze locks onto their faces, the unfolding revelation leaves you breathless.

As you rise from your barstool, your steps carry a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, drawing you inexorably toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The scene before your eyes demands confirmation, and what you find shatters your world in an instant. There, under the chaotic spell of the music's relentless rhythm, stands your boyfriend, now a stranger, locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Her arms are a seductive snakily coil around the back of his neck, and their laughter mingles with the infectious beats of the music, now assaulting your ears as you reach the realization of betrayal. A concoction of emotions—upset, betrayal, and the intoxicating fumes of alcohol—swirl within you, drawing you forward as the heat crawls up your face and flows into the rest of your body. Your feet guide you through the trembling beat, and, with a burst of fiery rage, you confront the pair. In an act of defiance and heartbreak, your open palm collides with your now ex-boyfriend's cheek in a resounding slap, the sound lost in the under the booming music that fills the club. The mysterious girl, who moments ago was dancing with him, stumbles back, her face etched with shock and disbelief. With your wounded pride, you retreat to the sanctuary of the bar. A final shot materializes before you, its amber contents beckoning with an illusory promise of numbness. You down the drink with the recklessness and no caution, the burn in your throat eclipsed by the feeling of your shattered heart.

You inform the bartender with a casual wave that the responsibility for the bill rests with the man you arrived with, an excuse that offers a semblance of dignity as you navigate your unsteady exit from the bar's confines. The city's nightlife swirls around you, a vivid blanket of neon lights and indistinct conversations. Perched on the curb outside the bar, you release a heavy, audible sigh that seems to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The exasperated "pfft" escapes your lips as you dismissively mutter, "What a waste." you recline, propping yourself up on your arms behind you, while your gaze ascends towards the night sky. It's as if you're summoning the attention of a god you don't even believe in, the stars and the moon bearing witness to your turmoil. Unbidden tears begin to well in your eyes, forming glistening pools that threaten to overflow. Yet, in a strange paradox, laughter bubbles up from within your heavy chest, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. "He made a mistake… losing me? How stupid," you whisper to yourself, the words a bittersweet blend of self-affirmation and ironic amusement. Your tears, now fallen, trace glittering paths down your cheeks, their journey reflecting the city's glimmering lights. You cast your gaze downward, scrutinizing your ensemble—a striking red dress that billows around you, paired with towering, sleek black heels. In that moment of reflection, you realize that it was not you who was lost; it was him. Your attire serves as a poignant reminder that you are a treasure to be cherished, a realization that strengthens your resolve even as tears continue to fall.

Amid the quiet solace of your unspoken sorrows, the sudden roar of a motorcycle's powerful engine reverberates through the air, and your attention is instinctively drawn to the source. With a magnetic allure, the motorcycle glides to a stop not far from your lonesome, commanding your undivided focus. You study the machine as if decoding a riddle; its lustrous body gleams in pristine white, a stark contrast to the glinting silver rims of the wheels. The interior and seats, ensconced in shadowy allure, exude an air of enigmatic sophistication, cloaked in inky blackness. Seated astride this mechanical masterpiece is a man who embodies a paradox of rugged elegance. He possesses a commanding yet lean figure, an epitome of grace and strength that defies the bounds of convention. Draped in a formidable, protective black jacket, his attire is sending your brain into a frenzy. Fitting black jeans encase his legs, while black gloves envelope his hands with a subtle promise of concealed purpose. Each step echoing an aura of intrigue, he dons a pair of black Doc Marten boots, their resolute presence amplifying his enigmatic appeal. Atop the mysterious man’s figure sits a gloss-black helmet, its contours hinting at the mysteries that lie beneath.

With deliberate grace, he lifts the helmet from his head, revealing a crown of luxurious, dark purple locks. Your astonishment lingers in the air, and you can't help but be drawn to the allure of this captivating stranger. To call your fascination mere curiosity would be a gross understatement. Each of his features appears meticulously crafted, from his silver-clad ears adorned with earrings, to a proud and tall nose, and his eyes—those big beguiling orbs that seem to harbor a pool of secrets within. It's a visage that commands attention, the embodiment of an elusive charm that ignites your every sense. In a moment of serendipity, your eyes meet, the spark of connection bridging the gap between strangers. He saunters toward the store adjacent to the bar, a fleeting look of mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful wink and an enigmatic smile are cast in your direction, a wordless invitation that beckons with a magnetic pull. He dismounts from his motorcycle with an elegance that mirrors the grace of a dancer, setting the helmet upon the seat . As he disappears into the depths of the store, the intoxicating combination of your inebriation and the fragile state of your emotions conspire to form a whimsical yet irresistible decision. It's a gravitational force that leaves you with no choice but to step into the store and follow the purple-haired enigma, your heart beating in time with the uncharted journey that awaits.

As the convenience store door chimes melodically with your entry, a tingle of excitement courses through the air. The purple-haired enigma, the pull of destiny that brought you here, stands before you, a magnetic presence that seems to command every aisle. His striking figure exudes an aura that is both electrifying and tantalizing, and you can't help but gravitate toward him. With fluid grace, he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a drink, his movements a mesmerizing dance of confidence. You approach, and behind the cool, glass refrigerator door, your eyes lock in a seductive connection. He acknowledges your presence with a sultry smile that ignites the room. With an air of unshakable self-assuredness, you compliment his sleek motorcycle, your words laced with a smoldering charm. His response is a flirtatious grin, and as he rises to his full, towering height, he gazes down upon you, a titillating hint of promise in his eyes. "Thanks, ever been on a bike before, pretty girl?" he inquires, the huskiness of his voice sending electric shivers down your spine. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as his words hang in the air. You return the provocative banter, testing the waters of this intriguing encounter. “Is this an invitation mr……?.”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.” He introduces himself with a name that rolls off his tongue like a forbidden secret—Lee Heeseung. His playful response drips with allure, and you find yourself ensnared in the the moment. "And maybe it is an invitation… if you're willing to accept, Miss …..”? Your own name tastes sweeter than ever on your lips as you tease him with a hint of coyness, “Yn. Y/ln Yn. And why should I Lee?” Heeseung's perceptive eyes dart to the mascara-stained traces of tears on your face, his gaze tracing the invisible scars etched upon your soul. He tenderly points to your head, his words laden with a quiet understanding. "Judging by the mascara-stained tears on your face, I think a ride would fix whatever troubled that pretty little head of yours." A shy smile dances upon your lips, your heart pounding with a mixture of vulnerability and courage. "Got an extra helmet, then?" You say as acceptance to his offer. Heeseung's smirk deepens, his voice dripping with a seductive promise. "Good girl. Of course I do. You never know who needs a good ride." The air crackles with the electrifying energy of an adventure about to unfurl, as you and Lee Heeseung step into the thrilling unknown, united by the allure of the night.

In one hand, he clutches a tall, foreboding can of Monster energy drink, its vibrant, neon label a stark contrast to the other hand, which cradles a diminutive yellow box adorned with the endearing label "banana milk." The curious combination of his selections hints at the multifaceted personality of the man who has now become your enigmatic companion. With the transaction complete, the two of you emerge from the convenience store, and Heeseung extends a seemingly casual but unmistakably thoughtful gesture—offering you the little yellow box of banana milk. You accept it with a raised eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How'd you know I liked this, Lee?" you inquire, your voice touched by intrigue. A mischievous smile graces Heeseung's lips as he leans in a bit closer, and his response dances on the edges of flirtation, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir with newfound hunger. "Pretty girls, like you, like banana milk," he teases, his words delivered with an artful charm that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you. Grateful for his gesture, you return the enchanting smile, the air thick with an electrifying tension. As you both make your way toward the magnificent motorcycle that had initially captivated your attention, anticipation courses through your veins, setting your body aglow with excitement. You stand behind Heeseung, observing his every move with eager eyes. With practiced ease, he opens a concealed compartment at the back of the bike, revealing a second helmet that bears a striking silver star on either side. It's a unique touch that adds to the enigma of the man before you. Heeseung places your drinks within the compartment, where the second helmet once resided. With a smooth and assured motion, he secures the compartment and then offers you your designated helmet, a symbol of the adventure you're about to embark on together. As you accept the helmet from his hand, the magnetic connection between you deepens, and the night unfolds with the promise of thrilling secrets yet to be unveiled.

With the banana milk safely stowed and the helmet now snug upon your head, the night holds an air of mystery and excitement as you both approach the waiting motorcycle. Heeseung's slender frame moves with grace as he swings a leg over the sleek, white machine. He turns toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends an electric pulse through your veins. "Make sure you hold on, doll," he says, his voice dipped in a heady blend of charm and raw anticipation. His words are laced with a promise of thrilling adventure, and your heart skips a beat as you grasp the significance of this moment. You eagerly position yourself behind him, forgetting all about your ex boyfriend and the events that took place before. your arms wrapping around his lean waist, fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of his black jacket. The powerful engine roars to life beneath you, its growl a primal invitation to the night. Heeseung's gloved hands deftly manipulate the handlebars, and in an exhilarating surge of acceleration, you both glide out of the convenience store's parking lot and onto the main road. The world becomes a mesmerizing blur of vibrant colors and lights as the motorcycle snakes through the city's labyrinthine streets, framed by beautifully illuminated buildings that reach skyward, a testament to humanity's creativity. The cool night air rushes over you, and the city's pulsating energy envelopes you, offering an intoxicating taste of freedom and escape. As the wind whips through your hair, and the city's mesmerizing lights create a captivating painting, you can't help but feel that you've stepped into a dream. With every twist and turn, Heeseung's driving skill reveals itself, and you're reminded of the harmony between man and machine. In this exhilarating dance through the heart of the city, you're not just a passenger; you're a partner in a thrilling adventure, bound by the allure of the night and the enigmatic man who now shares it with you.

As the motorcycle effortlessly weaves through the city's enchanting streets, Heeseung's lean frame seems to meld with the machine, and you can sense his exhilaration in the subtle movements and graceful leans. Every curve and twist of the road is navigated with a fluidity that suggests an intimate understanding between rider and ride. The city's lights create a dazzling panorama around you, and you revel in the symphony of sensations that surrounds you. After what feels like an eternity of blissful exploration, the first hints of daylight begin to break on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow upon the cityscape. It's a bittersweet reminder that this enchanting ride must eventually come to an end. With a quiet understanding, Heeseung steers the motorcycle to a stop in front of your home, and the engine's growl reluctantly gives way to the stillness of the early morning. As you dismount the bike, you can't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and a hint of longing for the adventure that has brought you closer. Heeseung turns toward you, his eyes holding a sparkle that mirrors the city's lights. "I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, pretty girl,” he says, his voice a blend of sincerity and allure. "I did enjoy it, lee.” Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't resist a teasing smile. "I have to admit, I'm not sure if it was the city or the company that made it so enjoyable." He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. I hope I made you forget what you were crying about earlier.”

With an air of anticipation, Heeseung closes the enchanting gap between you, his footsteps a playful dance that mirrors the rhythm of your heart. You find yourself drawn closer to him, a mix of curiosity and desire, hoping for a kiss that promises to be electric. But Heeseung, ever the tease, surprises you by gently capturing your hand in his gloved grasp. His lips brush against your knuckles, leaving behind a soft and lingering kiss that sends a thrill down your spine. A mischievous sparkle dances in his eyes as he takes a step back, though his hold on your hand remains. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips as he takes a step back, and your hands, still intertwined, reluctantly part as the space between you expands. but the connection between your souls remains undeniably strong. Heeseung places your helmet back into the motorcycle's compartment, his every motion a graceful symphony of closure, yet the moment is still heavy with the sweet ache of parting. He retrieves the little yellow box of banana milk, and with a look that speaks of unspoken promises and possibilities, he adds to the enchanting ambiance. As you turn away to make your way inside, your heart swells with emotions, and it's then you hear his voice, soft and filled with affectionate playfulness, "Heads up, princess!" Your head snaps around, your eyes locking onto Heeseung seated on the motorcycle, revving the engine with a fervor that mirrors the passion between you. With a flourish, he tosses the banana milk to you, and you catch it . Your heart flutters like a love-struck bird, and you're left standing there, watching the back of his retreating figure with eyes filled with longing. As the cold morning air surrounds you, you're reminded of the warmth and excitement that has filled this magical night. With a heart full of happiness, you finally turn to head inside.

In the cozy sanctuary of your home, you close the door behind you with a gentle sigh, leaning against it as you bask in the afterglow of this night. The memories of what transpired outside are like a symphony of emotions playing in your heart, each note resonating with the tender and profound love that has blossomed between you and Heeseung. The room envelops you in its intimate embrace, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the night. As you lean against the door, the walls seem to hold the echoes of the moments shared, and you're overcome by a sense of profound romance that fills the very air you breathe. The night was a love story written in the stars, a story of two souls drawn together by destiny and fueled by a love that's destined to endure. Despite breaking every single rule of stranger danger, you wish this night couldve lasted forever.

As you ascend the stairs to your room, a sense of contentment and longing accompanies you. The banana milk, a sweet reminder of an unforgettable night, finds its place on your bedside table, a silent guardian of your dreams. The room envelops you in its cozy warmth, the atmosphere carrying the residual fragrance of romance and adventure. In the dim light, you prepare for a soothing shower, letting the cascading water wash away the remnants of the night. Your thoughts, however, remain tethered to the enigmatic Lee Heeseung. Questions and desires swirl within your mind, like a gentle storm of emotions.

After the warmth of the shower, you don your pajamas from the night before, their familiarity a source of comfort as you slip between the soft sheets of your bed. Your body, tired but satiated, yearns for rest, yet your heart and mind remain restless, still inextricably tangled in the enchantment of the night. Thoughts of him, like whispers in the night, dance through your mind. "When will I see him again?" and "I wish we had exchanged information" echo in the chambers of your thoughts. Who is this mysterious man, Lee Heeseung, who has touched your heart so deeply? The unanswered questions propel you to flip open your phone, your curiosity overriding the myriad missed calls and texts from your unfaithful ex-boyfriend. Instagram becomes your portal to seek out the enigma named Lee Heeseung.

A sense of disappointment settles over you as your search on various social media platforms yields nothing. Lee Heeseung remains a ghost, elusive and untraceable in the digital realm. It's as if he exists only in the echoes of your memories, and the absence of any digital footprint only adds to his mystique. In your moment of quiet contemplation, a yearning for his presence intensifies. The desire to see him again, to unravel the enigma that is Lee Heeseung, becomes an undeniable ache within you. The thought that he knows where you live, and the lingering memories of your night together, offer a glimmer of hope that he might return. The idea that fate might bring you two together once more fills your heart with anticipation and longing. As you close your eyes and surrender to the night's embrace, you can't help but wonder when the stars will align, and the mysterious Lee Heeseung will reappear in your life.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the longing in your heart grew stronger. Spring had arrived, heralding the return of life and the vibrant colors of the world, yet it also marked the lingering absence of Heeseung, the man who had swept into your life as quickly as a shooting star and vanished just as abruptly. Every motorcycle that whizzed past you on the bustling streets of your city drew your attention like a magnet. A spark of curiosity ignited within you, and the questions were ceaseless. "Was that him? Does he still think of me?" These thoughts had woven themselves into the very fabric of your existence, haunting your every moment. The memories of that unforgettable night had become a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in your mind.

Despite the love and support of your incredible friends, your loving family, and a fulfilling job, the void Heeseung had left in your life persisted. The allure of "what could've been" weighed heavy on your heart, like a melody left unfinished, a dance cut short, or a love story left untold. In the midst of your everyday life, the longing for the man named Lee Heeseung never waned. Your heart carried the echoes of his touch, the memory of his gaze, and the whispers of a love story that had never fully unfurled. With every passing day, your desire for his return only intensified, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.

It was a typical Tuesday, just like any other weekday, as you made your way into the bustling work building, greeted by the friendly faces of your coworkers who had also become your cherished friends. Jake, ever the playful one, couldn't resist bringing up the topic of your elusive Heeseung. "How are you, YN? Still no luck with this Heeseung guy?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful air of exasperation in your response. "Unfortunately, no, Jake. Trust me, I would've told you if I had any news," you said with a chuckle. Jay, another dear friend of yours, joined the conversation, bringing with him a delightful surprise in the form of coffee for both you and Jake. With a comforting smile, he chimed in, "Don't worry, Ynnie, maybe he lives in a different town and was just there that night for you!" You couldn't help but offer an appreciative grin in response to Jay's attempt at comfort. His words were like a warm embrace, reassuring you in your quest for answers. Then, a new proposal surfaced, and it was Jay who initiated it. "Oh, by the way, Jake and I found out that there's been underground racing events in our city. We've been meaning to check it out. Wanna come with?" At first, you hesitated, but Jay's persuasive nature quickly took hold. "C'mon, YN!" Jake chimed in, adding his own brand of playfulness. "It'll be fun! Who knows, maybe you'll find Heeseung there! … or a different cute motorcycle guy at least." You let out a laugh that admitted defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll check it out with you guys. But if it's boring, you're buying me a burger." Jay quickly agreed to the wager. "Fine. Deal. But it won't be boring!" he declared with unwavering enthusiasm. "Mhm, we'll see," you replied with a sly grin, anticipating the playful adventures that lay ahead with your close friends, all while hoping that amidst the thrills of underground racing, you might find the one you longed for – or perhaps, something equally captivating.

As the workday drew to a close, you bid your colleagues and friends farewell, exchanging a series of cheerful goodbyes and promises to reconvene tomorrow. Last in line to receive your parting words were your friends, and it was Jake who left you with a playful reminder. "We'll pick you up at 10, ynnie~,” he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye. Your response was a melodious giggle as you affectionately ruffled his hair, a signal of your confirmation.

Once home, the weight of the day's responsibilities dissipated like a passing storm. Shoes were unceremoniously discarded, your bag and jacket flung haphazardly onto the floor, and with a contented sigh, you sank into the inviting embrace of your couch. Retrieving your phone, you embarked on a determined quest to research the underground racing scene, the glimmer of hope in your chest steadily growing brighter with every tap of your fingers.

The prospect of possibly encountering Heeseung again ignited a certain spark in your eyes, a fire of desire that refused to be extinguished. Yet, much like the elusive enigma of the man himself, your online investigation yielded no information about these races. It was as though the world had conspired to keep their existence hidden, a fitting scenario for events that were undoubtedly illegal. As you set your phone aside, your thoughts began to spiral in a torrent of what-ifs. What if Heeseung is there, but his interest had always been elsewhere? What if he's not present? What if he doesn't even notice you? These unceasing questions threatened to consume your mind, and you shook your head, as if such an act could dispel these relentless thoughts. Determined to quell the storm of uncertainties that raged within you, you took a deep breath and resolved to face the night with unwavering optimism.

With the plan in place, you had agreed that the guys would hang out at your place before the big race. Jake and Jay, after their workday, rushed home, got dressed for the evening, and then made their way to your doorstep around 7:30. You swung open the door in your comfy pajamas, greeting the duo with warm hugs and bright smiles. "Alright, guys," you chimed in, "I'm going to get ready now. You said we're leaving at 10, right?" They both confirmed your question with a nod, and you headed upstairs to prepare for the night ahead. As you left the living room, the two friends made themselves at home, lounging comfortably on your couch and taking charge of the TV. The anticipation for the evening ahead filled the air, and the sense of camaraderie between the three of you was a reassuring presence, setting the tone for the exciting adventure that lay just around the corner.

Upstairs in your room, you embarked on the grand battle that is getting ready for a night out. The soft glow of your vanity mirror cast a warm light on your determined face as you transformed your appearance for the evening. Your makeup was an elegant fusion of dark and bold, with a smoky eyeliner that accentuated your eyes and a luscious dark red lip gloss that heightened the allure of your lips. The result was a striking look that suited your features beautifully. You took a few moments to curl the ends of your hair, creating soft, cascading waves that reached down to your lower back. These curls were swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, with two delicate strands left loose to elegantly frame your face. Your outfit had been meticulously selected, not only with Heeseung in mind but also with the exciting prospect of possibly meeting someone new at this enigmatic race. Dark red leather pants, designed to hug your curves in all the right ways, were paired with a lace black tank top, adding a touch of sensuality to your ensemble. To complete the look, you adorned yourself with a black and white leather jacket that draped over your shoulders like whipped cream on a tantalizing sundae. In your full-length mirror, you admired the reflection of a confident and captivating woman, well aware of her own allure. A pair of sleek black boots adorned your feet, and you accessorized with a silver necklace featuring a delicate pendant and matching earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to your ensemble. To crown your transformation, you picked up your favorite perfume bottle, and with each spritz, a beautiful aroma enveloped you like a fragrant embrace. The battle of getting ready was won, and you felt like a queen in your own right. With a final glance in the mirror, you knew you looked stunning and were ready to face whatever the night had in store. With your purse in hand, you headed downstairs, prepared to join your friends who were patiently waiting for you.

"DAMN YN!" Jay and Jake exclaimed in unison as you descended the stairs, the sight of your stunning transformation leaving them momentarily breathless. A beaming smile graced your lips as their admiration washed over you. "Thank you, boys," you replied with a gracious nod, giving them a playful twirl to showcase your meticulously chosen outfit. "Do I look good?" you asked, a hint of playful teasing in your voice. "You know you do," Jay responded with a smile, but he was eager to get going. "Now, let's get moving! It's nearly 10:15." You waved off his concern with a nonchalant chuckle. "Oh, please, there's no way these things start right on time. We're fine. Now, let's make a quick stop at the convenience store so I can get a banana milk, pretty please~" you added with a hint of irresistible charm. The two boys, who had been lounging on the couch, rose from their seats with mock exasperation. Jake couldn't help but mutter a resigned, "Yes, ma'am…" as you playfully led the way, heading into the car where you sat in the backseat.

With a refreshing banana milk tucked safely in your purse, courtesy of Jake's wallet, the three of you arrived at the underground racing event. The venue was located beneath a highway bridge in an area you never even knew existed. you were struck by the sheer scale of the place, surrounded by towering structures that seemed to stretch to the heavens. This perspective, seeing the world from a unique angle, made you feel small in the grand scheme of things, a humbling realization that added to the aura of the night. Lost in your contemplation, you were momentarily unaware that Jay and Jake had already exited the car, with Jake gallantly holding the door open for you. He playfully addressed you, "Here we are, princess," and you responded with a light, affectionate hit on his arm, chuckling, "Oh, cut it out, Jaeyun." A playful exchange of names ensued between the two friends as you headed toward the gathering crowd at the starting line, eagerly awaiting the start of the race. You surveyed the bikers as they lined up in their positions, and your attention was drawn to a particular rider who was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic women. The throng of admirers made it difficult to see his face clearly, but you couldn't help but wonder if it might be Heeseung.

The announcer's voice crackled over the radio, calling on the racers to mount their bikes and prepare for the thrilling competition. Jay and Jake signaled that it was time to find your seats, with Jake instinctively taking your hand to guide you and ensure you didn't get lost in the bustling crowd. As you were led to the front row, you couldn't help but scan the racers one last time. The colorful array of bikes and their determined riders filled the scene with an air of excitement. But then, at the far end, you spotted a white bike, and your heart skipped a beat. Could it be Heeseung's bike? The memories of him came rushing back, and you pointed it out to your friends. "Wait, guys, that might be Heeseung's bike," you mentioned, your voice tinged with both hope and anxiety. Jake and Jay exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think so, YN?" Jay asked, offering a glimmer of doubt. "Maybe it's just a guy with the same motorcycle color as Heeseung, Ynnie. I mean, white bikes aren't that uncommon, right?" Jake reasoned, trying to provide a rational explanation. You shook your head, a familiar gesture you used to clear your thoughts. "Yeah, Jakey, you're probably right. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. It can't be him," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as your friends. You felt a surge of anxiety but decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the race. With the comforting presence of your banana milk, you took a sip and leaned back, hoping that this night would be an adventure to remember, regardless of the outcome.

As the man on the radio commenced announcing the racers' names, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd. With each name called out, a symphony of revving engines filled the air, punctuated by cheers and applause from the spectators. The excitement was palpable, and you joined in, clapping and cheering for each racer. However, as the announcer neared the end of the line of racers and you waited with bated breath, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The name you had been hoping to hear, "LEE HEESEUNG," didn't make an appearance. Instead, the announcer declared, "And last but not least, our reigning champion, ACE!" A sigh of regret escaped your lips, revealing your unspoken hope. You observed that the crowd cheered enthusiastically for this "Ace" character, understanding why he had garnered a legion of female admirers. The sense of anticipation still coursed through your veins, but you decided to put aside your initial disappointment and immerse yourself in the exhilarating atmosphere of the race, hopeful that the night would hold some surprises, even if Heeseung's name was absent from the list of competitors.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jake directed a question to both you and Jay, inquiring, "Who are you guys rooting for?" Jay was quick to respond, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm rooting for the guy named Jungwon on that bright blue bike. He seems like an underdog, you know?" Jake couldn't resist poking fun at Jay's choice. "So cheesy," he remarked, provoking Jay to playfully flip him off. Turning to you, Jake's curiosity was evident in his expression as he asked, "What about you, YN?" You pondered for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye as you gave your answer. "Hmm, maybe that Sunghoon guy, on the black bike. He seems hot," you added, punctuating your response with a giggle. Jay shook his head in mock exasperation, but he couldn't hide a smile. "I'm not even surprised." As the three of you continued to chat and enjoy the electric atmosphere, the announcer's voice broke through, "RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!" The crowd erupted into cheers, blending with the powerful roar of the motorcycles.

"READY…SET…GO!" The announcer's command was met with a symphony of revving engines, and in an instant, the racers sped off on the manmade track, weaving between the imposing pillars of the bridge above. The sound of the engines and the fervent cheers from the crowd captivated you, and your gaze remained fixed on the racers as they disappeared into the distance, the race now in full swing.

The race unfolded with an intoxicating blend of speed, skill, and sheer adrenaline. The racers zipped around the tight corners and weaved through the narrow gaps between the bridge's pillars, their powerful machines roaring like wild beasts. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, adding to the sensory overload that engulfed the crowd. The race was paired with commentary by the announcer, “In the lead is ace! Are we surprised? That white bike is a godsend!”

As the racers maneuvered with lightning precision, the crowd couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer spectacle before them. Spectators cheered as their chosen favorites powered through the track, and collective gasps echoed through the audience whenever a close call or a daring move occurred. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the shared excitement of everyone in attendance. Another comment was made by the announcer, “Woah! Look at jungwon pulling through and passing ace on his left! Will this be the first race he wins?”

“I told you guys. Always root for the underdog,” Jay chimes, but your eyes are glued to sunghoon and his black bike.

Amidst the collective fervor, you found yourself mesmerized, your eyes locked onto the racers as they sped past. The world outside the race ceased to exist for those moments, and you were drawn into the raw energy of the event, feeling the vibrations of the engines in your chest and the rush of the wind in your hair. “Here come’s sunghoon! Passing jungwon on his right, and making his way towards the finish line!” Says the announcer.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, adding to the electrifying atmosphere. "WOAH, WOAH!! HERE COMES ACE RIGHT BEHIND SUNGHOON! WHO WILL WIN? THE TWO ARE SIDE BY SIDE, WILL IT BE A TIE? THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT THERE, AND… ALMOST A PHOTO FINISH! BUT THE WINNER OF THE RACE IS SUNGHOON!"

As the crowd erupted in joyous celebration, the cheers of the spectators seemed to reverberate in perfect harmony with the racing engines. You were swept up in the excitement, joining the chorus of voices, and even rising to your feet as you cheered for Sunghoon, the victor of the race. The thrill of witnessing such a close contest was invigorating, and you couldn't help but be caught up in the jubilation around you. With a playful tone and a hint of what-ifs, you turned to your two friends and exclaimed, "Damn, we should've bet on it. Missed opportunity!" The boys laughed along with you, the infectious joy of the moment drawing them into the celebration. Together, you stood and cheered for Sunghoon, basking in the shared experience of witnessing an extraordinary race and its exhilarating conclusion.

The exhilarating atmosphere of the race drew you, Jay, and Jake, along with the rest of the crowd, to approach the racers as they dismounted their bikes. The audience showered the racers with an array of cheers and encouraging words, from "good job!" to "you'll win next time!" to admiring comments about their impressive machines. As you and your friends navigated your way through the dispersing crowd, you found yourselves face to face with Jungwon, the racer who had been your friend Jay's underdog favorite. Eager to express your admiration, you initiated the conversation, addressing him with warmth, "Hey, Jungwon, right? You were so cool! I thought you were gonna win for a second there!" Jungwon's face lit up with gratitude, and he replied with a sincere smile, "Thank you so much! I thought so too, but I had nooo chance against Ace and Sunghoon." Jay, ever the enthusiast, extended a firm handshake in that classic man-to-man fashion. "Bro! I was rooting for you from the start. You'll see me at the next race," he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a "thank you" from Jungwon. With that, the three of you moved on to the next racer, Sunghoon, eager to share your appreciation with the winner.

Sunghoon leaned casually on his sleek black bike, a striking figure with an air of confidence that immediately caught your attention. Up close, you couldn't deny how incredibly handsome he looked, and you were taken aback by his allure. Summoning your courage, you approached the winner, introducing yourself in a soft, friendly tone, "Hi Sunghoon, I'm YN. Congrats on the win, handsome." The compliment had its intended effect, and Sunghoon's eyes focused on you. "Well, hello, Miss YN. Nice to meet you," Sunghoon responded with a smirk, revealing a sharp canine tooth and a dimple that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself blushing in response to his charm. Sunghoon's flirtatious banter continued as he inquired, "You were rooting for me, pretty girl?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with playful seduction. You met his flirtatious challenge with a sly smile. "Maybe… maybe not," you replied, adding a teasing playfulness to your tone. He feigned disappointment, a twinkle in his eye as he teased, "What a shame, I was gonna offer you a ride." Playing along, you flirtatiously touched his arm, your confidence growing with every word. "Oh, come on, Hoonie, of course I was rooting for you," you confessed with a playful eye roll, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Sunghoon rewarded your playful admission by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and for that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, engaged in a playful dance of flirtation amidst the post-race excitement. The nickname you garnered for him was definitely working in your favor.

You were so deeply engrossed in your conversation with Sunghoon that you remained oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon you from the second-place racer, Ace. He watched you with something akin to jealousy, uncertain whether he should approach. Leaving you and Sunghoon in your own world, Jay and Jake made their way over to Ace to offer their congratulations. Jake, always one for humor, attempted to lighten the mood with a lighthearted comment. "Hey, man! You were so cool out there. Second place is still good. Don't be discouraged. I'm sure all these girls still want you," he quipped, though he hadn't realized that Ace's attention was on him. Ace's initial jealousy quickly transformed into a friendly demeanor as he responded, "Yo, thanks for that, haha. Almost won, but I'll win the next one for sure." Jay chimed in with an encouraging pat on Ace's shoulder before the two of them began to walk away. However, Ace couldn’t keep it to himself. He called out to Jay and Jake, nodding in your direction while still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon. "Hey, do you know that girl?" he inquired, his interest piqued. Jay answered without hesitation, a friendly tone in his voice as he looked back toward Ace. "Yeah, that’s yn! We're friends. She came here with us," he explained, his focus now shifting as he moved away from the racer, joining Jake in heading back in your direction, leaving Ace with his thoughts as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon.

As the evening wound down and Jay and Jake were ready to head home, you and Sunghoon decided to exchange numbers, creating a playful connection. Sunghoon, with a charming wink, remarked, "Call me when you wanna ride, beautiful." Your response was just as flirty, "I'll call you when I want to, Hoonie," and you playfully blew him a kiss. As you began to walk away, ready to rejoin your friends in the car, Sunghoon made his way over to Ace, eager to share his little victory. "Bro, I just got the hottest girl's number, and—" Sunghoon began, but before he could finish, Ace roared away on his bike, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. With your two friends already in the car, you confidently made your way toward them, your spirits high. For that moment, Heeseung had slipped from your thoughts, and the excitement of connecting with Sunghoon filled your mind. However, just as you were about ten feet away from Jay's car, a white motorcycle suddenly cut in front of you, blocking your path to your friends. Startled, you took a step back, your heart racing, and realized that the rider was one of the racers. You cautiously addressed him, "Oh, Jesus Christ, you scared me. Ace, right?" His helmet obscured his face as he nodded, and he proceeded to take it off, revealing his identity.

Your heart sank as the white helmet came off, revealing the vibrant purple hair that had grown longer since you last saw him. The shock washed over you like a tidal wave, and your eyes scanned his familiar face, unable to believe that he was standing there before you, just as he had been months ago. His eyes, large and twinkling, bore into yours, the same way they had done when you first met. "H-Heeseung?" was all you could manage to stammer. The excitement you had felt only moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a rush of tears welling up in your eyes. Every emotion you had held back for months now poured out, glistening like rivers of glittering light. The overwhelming flood of feelings left you lost and unsure of how to proceed. Heeseung spoke, his voice breaking the silence, "Yn, I missed you pretty girl.” But you couldn't handle it. The anger and sadness mixed inside you, driving you to act on impulse. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung. I-I gotta go," you uttered, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turned and ran towards Jay's car, where the two boys had witnessed the entire interaction. Climbing into the vehicle, you were met with a barrage of concerning questions from your friends. "I'll answer once you start driving. Please. Please start driving," you implored. Jay promptly obeyed your request and sped out of the lot, the car now on the road, the boys eager to ask their questions.

Jake spoke up first, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Yn, who was that?" "Heeseung…" you replied, your voice quivering. "Oh my god, what?!" Jake exclaimed. "Heeseung? Like in, Heeseung Heeseung?" Jay asked, his surprise mirroring Jake's. "Yes, Jay. Heeseung Heeseung. Oh my god, what was he doing there?" you lamented, your words spilling out in a mixture of confusion and emotion. "Wait, isn't this what you wanted, Yn? Why are you so upset?" Jake inquired, trying to make sense of your reaction. You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips before you responded, "…because… where has he been? I've spent months, nearly half a year wondering when he'd show up—waiting for him like some lost puppy. And now all of a sudden, I see him today, surrounded by a crowd of girls, only talking to me because I was hitting it off with Sunghoon? I just… I just don't know what's going on. And just now, he says he missed me? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. He knows where I live; if he missed me so much, he would've visited. I waited months, guys. MONTHS. I just… I'm so—" Jay cut off your rambling rant, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Yn, my love, it's okay. Let's get you that burger." In your teary, emotional state, you couldn't help but let out a faint laugh, appreciating Jay's attempt to lighten the mood. Jake reached his hand to the backseat to comfort you, and you clung to it as he gently rubbed circles into your hand. As you sat there, feeling a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you were grateful that your friends were by your side, offering their support and understanding in your time of need.

With the comforting presence of your friends and the burger in your stomach, you finally arrived home. Jay and Jake had offered to spend the night with you, but you assured them that you appreciated their support but wanted some time alone with your thoughts. Feeling too drained to remove your makeup and outfit, you flopped onto your couch, face-first, and screamed into a throw pillow. The weight of the day and the unexpected encounter with Heeseung left your mind in a tumultuous state. As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted into an uneasy slumber. Some odd hours later, you were startled awake by a persistent knocking on your door. At first, you attempted to ignore it, hoping the person would go away, but the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself up and went to inspect the door through the peephole. What you saw on the other side took your breath away: a head of purple hair, Heeseung, standing at your doorstep.

Anger surged through your body as you swung the door open, and a torrent of questions spilled from your lips, "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did it take you so long to see me?" The frustration that had been simmering inside you for months finally found its voice, and it was directed squarely at the person who could provide answers. Heeseung began to speak, attempting to explain himself, but you couldn't bear to let him finish. The words tumbled out of you, fueled by the emotions that had been building up over time. "No, Heeseung. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? How much I wished every motorcycle that passed me on the street was you? I've been so…" The emotional dam broke, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as your voice quivered with pent-up pain and frustration. Heeseung, rather than offering words, brought you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, and his hand softly patting your head. His voice was a soothing whisper in your ear, "Shh, shh… I'm here now, pretty girl. I'm here. I'm sorry." His comforting presence and reassuring touch allowed you to release your bottled-up emotions. You allowed yourself to cry in his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, relief, and longing all at once. Despite your anger at him in this moment, you couldn't deny that his embrace was warm and welcoming, and it offered a sense of solace that you hadn't realized you had been yearning for.

You and heeseung were now sitting on the couch, cuddling in the darkness of your living room. You decide to break the silence, “Can we talk now, hee?” He begins to play with your hair, offering you a quiet hum in response. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me?” You ask the questions that plagued your mind the most. "Yn, I'm truly sorry for disappearing like that. I had my reasons, but I understand how much it hurt you. I needed some time to sort things out in my life. It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I've missed you every day, and I regret not being there for you. I'm here now, and I want to make it right, if you'll have me" he answers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, heeseung? I mean, the first time I saw you today, you were surrounded by all these girls, and how do I know you won’t leave again?” You ask. "I understand your doubts, baby, and I don't blame you for being cautious. The girls today were just fans, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I promise you, I won't disappear again. I want to make it up to you and prove that I'm committed to being in your life. Actions speak louder than words, and I'm willing to show you through my actions that you can trust me." You let out a quiet sigh, “I want to trust you heeseung, I really do. But Im so scared of getting hurt again. Why did you decide to help me out that one day? The day we met? Do you do that to other girls? "I completely understand your fear, Yn. I helped you that day because you seemed like someone genuinely in need, and I felt a connection with you from the start. I don't do that for other girls; our meeting was special and unique. I can't promise you won't ever get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do my best to be there for you and be honest with you. I want to make things right between us. Seriously, my pretty girl” heeseung claims, shifting his body so you guys are face to face now.

As Yn looked into Heeseung's eyes, she saw a sincerity she hadn't seen in a long time. Her heart was still cautious, but the warmth of his embrace had melted some of the ice around it. "Let's take it one step at a time, my “love Heeseung said gently. "I won't rush you, and I'll do my best to earn your trust. We can figure this out together, princess.” Yn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was unsure of what the future held, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope. As the night continued, they talked, laughed, and shared stories. Yn realized that Heeseung had changed, and maybe she had too. They both had scars, but perhaps together, they could heal. The story of Yn and Heeseung wasn't over; it was just beginning. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Lee Heeseung, if you disappear on me again, I swear to god. Don’t forget I still have sunghoon’s number!” You playfully hit Heeseung. “Okay, okay! Message received ma’am! Now I have a question.” You respond with a hum. “Now who was that boy holding your hand earlier? At the race? Hm?” You laugh and respond teasingly, “Baby, that’s Jake. You really don’t have to worry about him. He’s like my little puppy!”

“My love, you do realize how wrong that sounds?” Heeseung laughs.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen ff #enhypen niki #park sunghoon #enhypen jake #heeseung x reader #heeseung #heeseung imagine #enhypennetwork #ficscafe #enhypen jay

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papercranesandinkstains · 14 days ago

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papercraneandinkstains SMAU Fic Rec List:

Otherwise known as my personal section to write love notes to all of my favorite authors..... Will be updating frequently because I am chronically online and I use the word OBSESSED a lot. Be warned...

REMINDER: You are responsible for your own media consumption! If you don't like an aspect of a fic, feel free to move on QUIETLY! Sending hate to authors who make FREE content is insane and you will be treated as such!!

SMAUS:

Heartbreak:Live/Offline- @zyafics (Rafe Cameron x Reader) in progress

Have you ever read something and you were so obsessed it was all you could think about? That is this SMAU for me. I have made a few SMAU’s in the past for Marvel, but never posted them because I was too anxious, but when I read THIS fic????? I genuinely have read it probably 20 times, I am so obsessed. It gave me the push to make my own SMAU’s for OBX, but to also post them! This girl makes such incredible work and graphics that I genuinely am so in awe of her! She is literally the sweetest, and if you haven’t read this, I genuinely can NOT recommend it enough. I spend hours talking about it with my sister because I am SO obsessed with it. I could write an entire book of love letters to this writer because she genuinely has put her heart in this fic and it really does show! It’s literally perfection! In my mind we are genuinely best friend's, I am so obsessed with quite literally anything she does!!

Kildare Split- @ghostofwriting (Rafe Cameron x Reader) complete

This???????? You're going to see a few Band/Musician AUs in this list and this was the start of my obsession! The relationships? The music? The longing??????? Don't even get me started. this fic is literally a MASTERPIECE and should be treated as such!

Lay all your love on me- @kimoralov3 (JJ Maybank x Heyward!Reader) in progress

This fic is sooooo special to me because I love love love the relationship between Reader and Pope as their brother. Anytime I see the Heyward!Reader tag, it’s an immediate click for me, but this fic is absolutely everything!! I’m talking poor JJ is down in the trenches for this girl to the point he’s cleaning fridges….

Salt &&. Secrets- @sematarygirls (Rafe Cameron x Reader) in progress

This fic is another one of my favorites! Reader is venting on an online blog about Rafe and he is going OUT of his mind trying to figure out who it is! Kelce and Topper are such instigators in this that I find myself laughing every time I see a new part! There are some really cute and different graphics that this writer does a really good job of creating!

Rhythm & Revelry- @darlingchronicles (Reader X JJ Maybank) in progress

Okay, this fic???? Every time I see an update I am giggling and kicking my feet. JJ is fighting for his life against the allegations that he has a crush on Reader/Blue, but the man has been down bad since they were kids and EVERYONE knows. This is a fake dating trope and it is so cute! I am so down bad for this fic!

Summer Lovin’- @murdockcastleslut (Jackson Genrette x Pogue!Reader) in progress

A Kook obsessed with a Pogue is a guilty pleasure of mine and this fic is EVERYTHING. The interactions between JJ and Pope are my absolute favorite, but he is SO desperate for any kind of attention from Reader that you can’t help but fall in love! I love love love this story so much, I will drop everything the second I see an update!

Off Limits- @whorelaud (BFB!Rafe x Reader) in progress

This one is a mix of SMAU and written fanfic and it has me on my knees. The interactions between Rafe and Reader, but also Reader and everyone else have me rolling on the floor every chapter! This is such a cute story and the dynamic between Reader and her brother really takes it over the top!

Off Topic- @murdockcastleslut (Rafe x Reader) in progress

Okay, so you are definitely going to see this author quite a few times and I’m not even sorry about it! She is literally so sweet and she creates such amazing work that there’s no way I’m ever going to shut up about her! Rafe is so down bad all I can do is giggle and kick my feet at every interaction! Sarah in this fic has me obsessed!!

Meddle About- @murdockcastleslut (JJ x Reader/ Rafe x Reader) in progress

A band AU that has me in a chokehold already and it has just begun! I genuinely am obsessed with this story already and it only has a few chapters! Then again, I think this writer could post blank posts and I would still eat it up because she is just that good!

Bed Chem- @lolxdswag123 (Rafe Cameron x Reader) in progress

Okay this story is so amazing, I don’t even know where to start! It’s a story of Reader falling in love with Rafe while also wanting to return to college after the summer is over. She and JJ have a complicated history, which has its own twists and turns. This fic is literally so amazing!!

Riding the Edge- @ghostofwriting (Rafe Cameron x Reader) in progress

Motorcycle content creator Rafe and Bookstagram poster Reader are literally everything to me! The graphics on this story are so cute, but the story itself just blows me out of the water! They fall so in love so fast, and then Rafe Cameron does indeed fumble the bag… BUT there’s hope guys! I love this story so much!!

Ocean Blue Eyes- @softspiderling (Rafe Cameron x Reader) in progress

Okay but musician Reader is always everything to me and this fic????? I literally am so obsessed with it! The fan theories? The literal threads the audience ties together time and time again?? Literally obsessed!

Summer Sun Forever- @l6ndry (Rafe Cameron x Reader) in progress

Band AU’s have my heart in case you can’t tell…. But a celebrity falling for their biggest fan??? The delusional girl in me will EAT it up every time! This story is literally so cute! Reader and their friends are such cuties, but Rafe and his band mates? I have to laugh every time they have a conversation… This is SUCH a great read!

Poor Un-American Girls- @greyswaren (Rafe Cameron x foreignexchangestudent!Reader)

This is such a cute and original idea that I have been eating up like crazy! Reader’s friendships with their friends back home?? Their new friendships with the OBX community?? Rafe being a down bad fella (as he should be).... I am obsessed with this!

#pcis recs #fic recs #obx fic recs #smau recs

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leejenowrld · 8 months ago

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ME I WANNA REQUEST JENO TEACHING HIS GF TO PLAY GUITAR AND IT TURNS SMUTTY BUT LIKE CUTE AND ROMANTIC SMUT CUS I FEEL LIKE TEACHING SOMEONE AN INSTRUMENT IS ROMANTIC

word count — 1.3k

smut, not proof read and written in like 10 mins so

inspo -

Backstage at the venue, the atmosphere buzzed with the electric energy typical of a night filled with music and revelry. Amidst the controlled chaos, you found a quieter space, bathed in the warm, soft glow of stage lights spilling through the side curtains. Here, you stood, bass slung low around your hips, dressed in an outfit designed to thrill—an audaciously short black leather skirt paired with a lace top that left little to the imagination, accentuating your cleavage and the smooth curve of your shoulders. Your makeup was glowing, with shimmering highlights that caught the light every time you moved, and your hair fell in loose waves that frame your face beautifully.

Jeno, dressed in a simple white fitted shirt that contrasted sharply against his dark jeans, exuded a casual, effortless charm. His hair was styled in a soft, tousled look that made him even more irresistible, especially as he flashed you a grin that spoke volumes of his adoration for you.

“So, you’re really going to teach me this time?” Jeno’s voice broke through your preparations, tinged with excitement and a hint of playfulness.

You nodded, feeling the electric tension between you two. “Yeah, but only if you promise to actually pay attention,” you teased back, meeting his playful gaze with a challenging sparkle in your own.

Jeno’s laugh was soft and inviting as he stepped closer, his hands finding your waist. “You have my full focus,” he whispered, his lips inches from yours, making your heart flutter with anticipation.

“Good,” you murmured, feeling his breath against your lips before turning your attention to the bass. “Let’s start with the basics. This is how you hold it properly,” you instructed, adjusting his hands on the guitar, your bodies brushing against each other.

Jeno nodded, his fingers awkward at first but gradually finding their rhythm under your guidance. “Like this?” he asked, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Exactly like that,” you replied, your voice softening. “You’re a natural.”

As the lesson progressed, your proximity made the air around you thick with tension. You corrected his posture, your body pressing lightly against his back, your breath hot against his ear. “You’ve got to relax more,” you whispered, and he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest.

“Relaxing isn’t exactly easy when you’re this close,” Jeno teased back, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was playful yet filled with raw desire, mirroring the quickening pulse you felt within yourself.

“You think so?” you played along, letting your hands linger a bit longer on his, feeling the roughness of his palms. “Maybe this will help,” you suggested, your tone dropping to a seductive whisper as you guided his hand to strum a particularly deep note, letting the vibration ripple through both of you.

“God, I love how your hands look on this,” Jeno murmured, his gaze fixed on where your hands guided his. “But I keep imagining them elsewhere… like wrapped around my cock, squeezing tight.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, heat pooling low in your belly. “Imagine how distracted you’ll be when I really start to show you the good techniques,” you murmured, your lips barely grazing his earlobe as you spoke with a teasing lilt. The flirty undertone was unmistakable, inviting a more tantalizing kind of tension.

Jeno’s response was immediate, his hands tightening on the bass as he turned his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was fiery, loaded with all the tension that had been building. His tongue swept into your mouth, dominating and exploring in equal measure.

As the kiss broke, you both were breathless. “Fuck the bass,” Jeno growled, setting the instrument aside carelessly. His hands found the hem of your skirt, fingers tracing the bare skin at your thighs as he looked into your eyes with unmasked desire. “I want you. Now.”

“Then take me,” you challenged, your own hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.

Without another word, Jeno lifted you onto the table, your back lying amidst the scattered props. His hands were quick to push your skirt up, revealing more of your thighs, his touch scorching against your skin. “I need to taste you,” he said, voice rough with lust as he knelt before you, his breath hot against the lace of your underwear.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Do it,” you urged, your voice a mix of command and desperation. Jeno obeyed without hesitation, his tongue and lips worshiping you through the thin fabric before he tugged them aside. The sensation of his mouth on you was electric, his tongue skilled and knowing exactly how to make you writhe and moan his name.

The buildup of pleasure was intense, spiraling towards release under his relentless attention. When you came, it was with a loud cry, your body arching off the table, clenching around the nothingness, craving something more substantial.

Jeno rose to his full height, his lips glistening with you as he unbuckled his jeans. “Your turn,” he said, the outline of his arousal clear and promising.

Eagerly, you switched positions, pulling him to you and freeing him from his constraints. “I want to feel you inside me,” you whispered as you guided him, positioning his cock at your entrance.

He pushed into you with a groan, filling you completely, the stretch and sensation driving a gasp from your lips. The rhythm he set was punishing, each thrust deeper and harder, aimed at hitting all the right spots. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, as you met him thrust for thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with your combined moans.

The edge was fast approaching again, the coil in your belly tightening. “Jeno, I’m—” you gasped, the words lost in the heat of the moment.

“I know, baby, me too,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own climax. His eyes locked with yours, intense and full of an unspoken promise, as he drove into you with a ferocity that made your entire body quake. Each movement was a declaration, each moan a testament to the depth of his desire.

The room was filled with the sound of your labored breaths and the rhythmic pounding of his hips against yours. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you into every thrust, ensuring you felt every inch of him.

Your climax crashed over you like a wave, overwhelming and all-consuming. Jeno followed soon after, his groan deep and drawn out as he reached his peak, his grip on your hips almost bruising. The warmth of him spilled inside you, a tangible proof of your shared passion.

As you both caught your breath, Jeno leaned down to press a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice a tender murmur that wrapped around you as securely as his arms.

You smiled, your heart swelling with the depth of your feelings, mirrored so perfectly in his eyes. “I love you more,” you replied, pulling him into another kiss, slow and sweet, the kind that said everything words never could.

He chuckled, glancing over at the bass guitar resting against the wall. "So much for my bass lesson," he said with a smirk, his voice rough from exertion.

You laughed lightly, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, still feeling the heat from his skin under your touch. "I think you've got enough hands-on practice for today," you teased, capturing the playful glint in his eye as your hands continued their exploration. The bass might have been silent, but the night's melody was far from over.

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velarisdusk · 1 month ago

Text

Moonlit Waltz

Rhysand x Reader

word count: 414 summary: Amidst the festivities of the city, you and Rhysand share a quiet dance in the moonlight, surrounded by the magic of the night and the warmth of each other’s gaze. author's note: im putting off writing VW,MT pt.2 as well as my next series so take this (imagine me throwing this at you like a frisbee) i'll have something of substance up soon i promise

The celebration in Velaris raged on in a symphony of laughter and music, spilling over the streets and mingling with starlight. You and Rhysand slipped away, weaving through lantern-lit paths until you found yourselves in a quiet courtyard bathed in moonlight, far from the bustling crowd.

He turned to you, shadows casting his gaze in soft, inviting darkness. The moon cast silver over his shoulders, glinting in the raven sweep of his hair. He gave a roguish smile, a hint of that charm always lurking in his eyes. “One dance,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvet promise. You hesitated—just for a breath—and then placed your fingers in his, the warmth of his touch sending a quiet thrill through you. The world stilled as he pulled you close, his other hand settling at your waist with a gentleness that felt like it was reserved only for you.

You swayed together, the night air cool but his touch igniting heat wherever he held you. The night seemed to fold around you both as you swayed, guided by an unspoken rhythm. The dance was slow, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear your gaze from the way his eyes softened. Shadows clung to him like they belonged, curling around his frame, drawn by the glow of his magic—and perhaps, the magnetic pull between you.

Rhysand’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a silent, intimate gesture. He spun you slowly, your skirts twirling around your ankles, and when you turned back to face him, his smirk had melted into an expression that sent your heart pounding. There was no High Lord here—just Rhysand, the male who looked at you as though each breath between you was sacred. With each turn, the world beyond faded, the distant laughter muffled by the electric pulse between you.

He lifted your hand, pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles before pulling you back into the circle of his arms. You continued moving, your bodies swaying together like waves against the shore, the soft press of his fingers against your back a silent assurance.

The sounds of celebration drifted, faint but present, while you and Rhysand moved through shadows and moonlight. His gaze never left yours, the air between you heavy with words unsaid, promises woven into every step. When he leaned close, your breaths mingling, it was as though the city and its revelry had vanished, leaving just you and him, dancing in the hidden heart of the night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3 @acoazlove @anarchiii @feerique @inkedinshadows @lilah-asteria

@mrsjna @okaytrashpanda @serena-capella @starlightazriel @wildfloweroutlaw

#acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #drabble #acotar drabble #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #rhysand fluff #rhysand drabble

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msriri030 · 4 days ago

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SBH Pt 4: Hasenpfeffer

Mafia!König x Doctor!reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,.., Part 5

As bright lights pulsed across the dancefloor, illuminating the haze of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, the music blasted at an almost deafening volume. Customers cheered, downing shots after shots, their laughter and shouts merging into the chaotic rhythm of the night. The atmosphere was electric, alive with celebration and indulgence.

Everyone seemed to be basking in the euphoria of the moment—everyone except König.

He sat in the shadows of the VIP lounge, his imposing frame dwarfing the velvet armchair he occupied. His gloved hands rested calmly on the armrests, but his piercing eyes betrayed a smoldering intensity as they locked onto the club manager in front of him.

The manager, a wiry man in a cheap suit, was pacing frantically, wringing his hands as sweat dripped down his temples. His voice cracked as he rambled, his words tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to explain.

“I—I swear, I’ll have the money soon! Business has been slower than usual, but next week—next week for sure, I’ll—”

“Next week?,” König interrupted, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through the manager’s nervous chatter like a blade. He leaned forward slightly, the shadows shifting over his masked face. “Do you think I enjoy waiting, hmm?”

The manager froze, his bloodshot eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. But there was none. The weight of König’s presence was suffocating, a predator’s gaze pinning its prey.

“N-no, sir,” the manager stammered, his voice barely audible over the thrum of the bass vibrating through the walls. “It’s just... things have been tight lately. Please, just a little more time—”

König’s gloved hand shot out, gripping the manager’s tie and yanking him forward with startling speed. The man gasped, his face inches from König’s, where the faint outline of a smile beneath the mask sent shivers down his spine.

“You’ve had time,” König growled, his accent thick and his tone cold as ice. “You wasted it.”

The club’s neon lights reflected in König’s eyes as he released the manager, shoving him back with a dismissive force. The man stumbled, losing his balance and fell onto the floor, but König didn’t care. His patience had worn thin.

As the music swelled and the crowd cheered, König rose to his full height, towering over the trembling manager like a shadow of judgment.

“You have two days,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable finality. “No excuses. No delays.”

The manager nodded frantically, his head bobbing like a puppet on strings. “Y-yes, of course! Two days, I promise!”

Without another word, König turned and strode toward the exit, his heavy boots thudding against the floor, cutting through the revelry like a phantom. The clubgoers barely noticed his departure, too lost in their hedonistic haze to realize the storm that had just passed through their midst.

As he stepped out into the cool city night, König’s gloved hand brushed against the hilt of the gun holstered at his side. The faint glow of the streetlights caught the edges of his imposing frame, but he didn’t bother to glance back at the club. The manager inside knew the consequences of failure. König was, after all, a man of his word.

Oni waited by the curb, leaning casually against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers. The glowing ember briefly lit his scarred face as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. His dark eyes flicked toward König as the towering man approached.

Without preamble, König leaned close, his voice low and cold. “Make sure he has something to remember his deadline. Maybe a finger or two? Whatever sends the message.”

Oni didn’t flinch. He nodded silently, flicked his cigarette onto the ground, and crushed it beneath his boot before turning and heading into the club.

König watched him disappear into the neon haze of the entrance before letting out a heavy sigh. His broad shoulders slumped slightly as he allowed himself a moment to exhale. The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him constantly, but there were other burdens he carried—ones far more personal.

The sharp vibration of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly pulled it from his pocket, his gloved thumb swiping across the screen with a flicker of hope. Maybe it was you. It had been months since that night, that fiery, passionate connection that still lingered in his mind. You’d gone on a few dates since then, but finding time for each other was like chasing shadows in the chaos of his life.

But the notification wasn’t from you. His jaw tightened as he saw Horangi’s name flash across the screen.

He pressed the call button, his tone already tinged with irritation. “What is it, Horangi?”

On the other end, Horangi’s amused voice crackled through the receiver. “Touchy tonight, boss. What’s the matter? Missing your pet rabbit?”

König’s brow furrowed, his grip on the phone tightening. “How do you—”

“Relax,” Horangi interrupted, a smirk evident in his tone. “They’re fine. Just a regular patient load so far. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

König’s breath hitched for a moment, relief washing over him like a fleeting breeze. But before he could say anything, Horangi continued.

“Anyway, we’ve got intel. Don Shepard’s cooking something up. Could turn into a real mess if we’re not careful. You sure you don’t want to convince her to move her clinic closer into our territory? She might get caught in the crossfire if this heats up.”

König’s tone turned sharp, defensive. “I will not force her.”

Horangi chuckled softly. “So protective. She is your partner, then?”

“She is my partner, not my pet,” König snapped, his voice firm but not angry. He paused, his hand briefly brushing against the mask he always wore. “And she’s capable of making her own decisions. Don’t underestimate her.”

Horangi let out a low whistle. “Fair enough. Just thought I’d float the idea. But if anything happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll handle it,” König said curtly. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do. Oh, and König?”

“What?”

Horangi’s tone turned teasing. “You really are missing her, aren’t you?”

König hung up without answering, shoving the phone back into his pocket. For a moment, he stood under the streetlight, the cool night air brushing against him.

His thoughts drifted back to you—your laugh, your touch, the way you’d looked at him like he was more than the monster people feared.

With a low sigh, König turned and strode toward the waiting black SUV parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp. He pulled open the door and slid into the backseat, catching the tail end of Roze and Hutch's conversation.

“When do you think he’ll propose—” Hutch started, then immediately straightened in his seat. “Hey, BOSS! How was the meeting?”

Before König could respond, the muffled but unmistakable sound of a man screaming drifted through the open window. It was the club manager.

König sighed, his expression as unreadable as ever behind his mask. “Just a waste of time.”

The back door opened, and Oni climbed in silently. He tossed something small and bloody onto the center console. It was the manager’s finger, crudely severed. Roze made an exaggerated noise of awe, poking at the “trophy” with a gloved finger.

“Nice work,” she teased, smirking. “Looks like you’re getting creative, Oni.”

König merely gave a curt nod of approval, his eyes distant as Hutch chuckled and started the engine. The SUV rolled away from the club, the faint neon glow of its sign disappearing in the rearview mirror.

König turned his gaze out the window, ignoring the banter between Oni and Roze. His thoughts inevitably drifted back to you. You. His savior, his refuge, the one person who could strip him of the heavyweight he carried every day. You were the only one who had ever seen his face—besides his closest allies—and the only one who mattered in ways he couldn’t explain.

His mind wandered further, a wave of heat spreading through him as he remembered that night. The way your body fit so perfectly against his, your skin flushed, your lips swollen from his kisses. The sound of your voice gasping his name, the way your legs had parted for him so willingly, your warmth wrapping around him like a drug.

His little Hase.

The memory tugged at him with an intensity that almost hurt, and for a moment, the cold brutality of his world melted away, replaced by thoughts of you.

Then, reality came crashing back.

Hutch slammed on the brakes, sending the SUV screeching to a violent stop. The sudden jolt threw everyone forward, the seatbelts straining to keep them in place.

König instinctively braced himself, his massive hand shooting out to keep himself from slamming into the back of Hutch’s seat.

“What the fuck, Hutch?!” Roze yelled, gripping the door handle tightly to steady herself.

From the backseat, Oni groaned, his head slamming into the headrest in front of him. “Verdammt... What now?” he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“Scheiße, what’s going on?” König barked, his deep, authoritative tone cutting through the commotion.

Hutch’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his breathing heavy. He gestured toward the road ahead, where something dark and unidentifiable sprawled in the SUV’s path.

“Someone just threw some fucking animal on the car!” Hutch exclaimed, his voice edged with frustration. “Its guts and blood are everywhere! Look at this shit!”

König glanced at the blood-smeared windshield, his jaw tightening. His sharp eyes flicked to the back window, scanning for the assailant’s car. It was already gone, swallowed by the darkness.

“Scheiße,” König growled under his breath, his voice low and dangerous. His fists clenched as he turned back to the bloody mess on the windshield. “Let’s clean this up and get to the warehouse.”

“I put some water bottles in the back earlier,” Roze said quickly, her mind already working to problem-solve. “I’ll grab them. Oni, why don’t you get whatever the hell they threw and move it off the road? Hutch and I will handle the windshield.”

Oni nodded without a word, sliding out of the vehicle as Roze went to retrieve the bottles. Hutch remained tense, muttering curses under his breath as König stepped out, towering over the group.

König let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was the last thing he needed tonight. As the others worked, he pulled out his phone, dialing Nikto, the man in charge of guarding their warehouses.

The line clicked, and Nikto’s deep, gravelly voice came through. “Da, Boss?”

“Trouble,” König said curtly, his voice hard as steel. “Someone’s playing games. I need a full sweep of the warehouse grounds. Keep the men alert.”

“Understood,” Nikto replied without hesitation. “Any idea who?”

“Not yet,” König admitted, glancing at the scene in front of him. Oni had just hefted the carcass—what looked like a mutilated rodent—off the road, blood still dripping onto the asphalt. “But they’re trying to send a message.”

“Let them try,” Nikto said, a hint of menace in his voice. “They won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Good,” König said before hanging up.

He turned back to the group. Roze was scrubbing at the windshield with a soaked rag while Hutch rinsed it with the water bottles. Oni had discarded the bloody carcass on the side of the road and was wiping his hands on a cloth.

“Let’s finish this and move,” König ordered, his voice sharp. His patience was wearing thin, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger.

You were organizing files when Soap and Ghost walked into the clinic, their presence unusually heavy. The air seemed to shift with them. Soap’s usually bright and hyper personality was nowhere in sight—he didn’t even meet your gaze. Ghost, who would normally offer you a subtle nod or a rare, slight smile, avoided your eyes entirely, his body language radiating quiet tension.

Determined to lift their spirits, you smiled warmly and stepped forward to hug them both. At first, they stiffened, clearly caught off guard, but then Soap melted into the embrace, leaning into you like a comfort-starved puppy. He nuzzled his face against your neck with a sigh, while Ghost exhaled deeply, his rigid shoulders softening ever so slightly under your touch.

“What’s with those faces, you lemon boys?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax even the smallest smile out of them.

“Nothing, lass,” Soap muttered, but his voice lacked its usual spark, his words flat and unconvincing.

“Just… work’s been rough lately,” Ghost added curtly. His tone carried an edge, and his eyes flicked briefly toward the car parked outside. Following his gaze, you noticed Horangi sitting in the driver’s seat, watching the clinic from a distance. Ghost’s hand flexed at his side, a telltale sign that something was bothering him deeply.

You tilted your head, concerned prickling at you. “So, how have you guys been? I know with Horangi keeping an eye on the clinic, it might feel… different,” you said gently, your thumbs nervously rubbing along the edge of the file in your hands.

Ghost stood stiffly across from you, his cold, piercing gaze betraying an undercurrent of unease. Beside him, Soap forced a faint smile, but it was strained, a shadow of his usual self.

“Horangi?” Ghost’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

“Yeah, one of König’s men,” Soap answered without looking up, his fingers fiddling with the handle of his cup. “The guy in the car?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in Ghost’s reaction. “Yes, he’s been very kind. Maybe one day you’ll get to meet—”

“No, Doc,” Ghost interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp, almost commanding.

The abruptness made your heart skip a beat. “What? Why not?”

Ghost leaned forward, resting a gloved hand firmly on your shoulder. His dark eyes burned into yours, a quiet anger simmering beneath the surface. His voice was low and deliberate, every word heavy with warning. “You don’t understand who you’re dealing with. König and his men aren’t the kind of people you trust.”

Soap nodded grimly, reaching out to place a hand on Ghost’s arm as if to pull him back. “Doc, you’ve got a good heart. You always see the best in people, but those men…” He hesitated, exchanging a glance with Ghost. “They don’t protect people. They control them. That’s what they do.”

You frowned, a flicker of defensiveness flaring in your chest. “Horangi has done nothing but help me. And König—” You stopped yourself, your voice faltering as the weight of your words settled. König had protected you, stood by you, even comforted you in moments when you felt like the world was falling apart. But could you say that out loud? Would they even understand?

“They’re not your friends,” Ghost said, his tone softening slightly but no less serious. “They’ll stick around as long as it serves them. And when it doesn’t…” He let the unspoken words hang in the air like a shadow.

Soap finally met your gaze, his blue eyes filled with a strange mix of pity and concern that made your stomach churn. “We’re just trying to look out for you, lass. That’s all.”

You bit your lip, torn between the trust you’d placed in König and the unease Soap and Ghost’s words stirred within you. A part of you wanted to argue, to defend the kindness you’d seen in König and Horangi. But another part of you couldn’t ignore the gravity in their voices—the warning they clearly believed you needed to hear.

“What are you not telling me?” you demanded, your voice trembling slightly, your heart racing under the weight of their silence.

Ghost’s gaze darkened, his unreadable eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Soap looked away entirely, his fingers fidgeting restlessly at his side. The tension in the room grew suffocating as unspoken words lingered just beyond reach.

Finally, Ghost stood, his movements stiff and deliberate. Soap hesitated for a moment before following suit, his usual lively demeanor replaced with a heavy quiet.

“Ghost?” you pressed, stepping in their path to the door. “Answer me!”

Instead of replying, Ghost reached out, resting a gloved hand lightly on your head. The gesture was unexpected, almost tender, and yet it only deepened the ache in your chest. His eyes softened, filling with something dangerously close to regret.

“It’s time for us to go,” he said quietly, his voice steady but heavy. “I’m sorry, Doc… for everything.”

Soap glanced at you one last time, his shoulders slumping under the weight of something unsaid. “Take care of yourself, lass,” he murmured before turning to follow Ghost.

“Bullshit!” you yelled after them, your voice cracking under the strain of frustration and emotion. “Tell me the truth! Ghost! Soap!”

Neither of them looked back. Their retreating figures disappeared out the door, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of unanswered questions—and a sinking feeling you couldn’t shake.

When König and Nikto finished their weekly report, König stepped out of the warehouse, the evening air thick with the faint tang of salt from the nearby docks. He rubbed his temple, exhaustion etched deep into his features, while Oni trailed silently behind him. The weight of the day’s endless tasks bore down on him like a heavy cloak, and all he wanted was to hear your voice—to escape the chaos, even if only for a moment.

Reaching into his pocket, König pulled out his phone, his fingers moving instinctively to dial your number. Just the sound of your voice would have been enough to ease the tension coiled in his chest. But as his gaze fell to the screen, his lips pressed into a tight line.

No signal.

Of course. The docks were notorious for their lousy reception. A frustrated sigh escaped him as he stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the useless device before he shoved it back into his pocket with a muttered curse.

“Everything alright, König?” Oni’s voice broke the silence, calm but tinged with curiosity. It wasn’t often König let his frustration show.

König gave a curt nod without elaborating, his gaze sweeping over the dark, sprawling waterfront. The ache to hear your voice gnawed at the back of his mind, but like so many things in his life lately, it would have to wait.

Oni kept pace with him as they approached the car where Roze and Hutch waited. “König,” Oni began, his voice casual but carrying a subtle edge, “do you know what Hasenpfeffer means?”

König paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder with a flicker of confusion. “It’s named for rabbit stew,” he said after a moment. “Why?”

Oni hesitated before answering, his tone careful. “There was a tag attached to the dead rodent we found earlier—‘Hasenpfeffer’ was written on it. I thought it was nothing, but—”

Oni never finished his sentence.

In a flash, König spun around and slammed Oni against the side of the van with enough force to rattle the frame. Towering over him, König’s broad form loomed like a shadow, his chest heaving with barely restrained fury.

“What do you mean, nothing?” König growled, his voice a deep, dangerous rumble. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Oni’s with an intensity that could freeze blood. “You saw something like that and didn’t think it was worth mentioning?!”

Oni raised his hands in a placating gesture, his calm demeanor unshaken despite König’s sudden outburst. “I was going to report it,” he said evenly, his tone measured. “But it didn’t seem urgent. A dead rabbit, a tag with an old recipe name—it didn’t appear to be a conventional threat at the time.”

König’s grip tightened, his gloved fingers twisting into Oni’s jacket as he leaned closer. “A dead animal. With a message. And you thought it wasn’t urgent?” His voice was cold, his words carrying a primal edge—a protective instinct honed over years of danger.

“It wasn’t malicious—at least, not obviously,” Oni explained, his tone steady but cautious. “It could’ve been a warning. Or it could’ve been someone playing games. That’s why I waited.”

For a moment, König didn’t move, his jaw clenched tight as if he were holding himself back from snapping entirely. Then, with a frustrated growl, he released Oni and stepped back, his massive frame vibrating with restrained anger.

“It’s not nothing,” König muttered, his voice low but charged with intensity. “Warnings like that… they’re never just a joke.”

Oni adjusted his jacket, brushing himself off without complaint. “So, what do you want to do about it?”

König’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the shadows beyond the docks, his mind calculating, strategizing. “We find out who sent it,” he said coldly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. His fists clenched at his sides. “And we figure out if it’s meant for me… or for her.”

At the mention of you, König’s chest tightened with a mix of anger and fear. If someone was targeting him, that was one thing. But if they were trying to get to you, to use you as leverage… His stomach churned at the thought.

“She’ll stay with me,” König murmured more to himself than Oni, his voice softening but still firm. “Until I know it’s safe. She’ll stay where I can protect her.”

Oni nodded once, silently acknowledging König’s resolve, and climbed into the van. König followed, his movements rigid with tension. His thoughts churned darkly, his focus already narrowing in on whoever had sent that message.

Whoever they were, prank or not, they were about to learn what happened when they tested him.

But first, he had to make sure you were safe.

It wasn’t that long until it was closing time. You sighed while gathering the scattered mugs and collecting files left by the day’s patients. The clinic had grown quiet, the faint hum of the printer and the occasional creak of the building your only companions. You tried to focus on the mundane task at hand, but the conversation with Ghost and Soap replayed in your mind like a broken record.

Their words had planted a seed of doubt that you couldn’t shake. Ghost’s cold, cutting tone. Soap’s rare lack of humor. They weren’t the type to get rattled easily, yet the concern in their voices had been unmistakable.

You placed the last file on your desk and slumped into the chair, running a hand through your hair. König. They didn’t trust him. But could you blame them? König was an enigma, a man who carried danger in his shadow and yet had been nothing but kind to you. He was a contradiction you couldn’t quite unravel—a beast to others, a protector to you.

The clinic lights flickered briefly, pulling you from your thoughts. You frowned, glancing toward the windows. The street outside was eerily quiet, the usual buzz of city life reduced to a distant murmur.

You shook your head, dismissing the unease creeping up your spine. It was just a long day, nothing more. With a deep breath, you leaned back in your chair, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, you stood up for the last time, collecting your items and slipping your bag over your shoulder.

The clinic felt eerie as you turned off the lights one by one, the faint hum of the machines finally silenced. You walked to the front entrance, where Horangi was already waiting for you, leaning casually against his car.

His masked face tilted slightly in acknowledgment as you approached. You locked the front doors behind you, double-checking them before turning to join him in the car.

“Hey, Hase. How was work?” Horangi asked, his voice warm with casual ease as he started the engine.

You slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, offering him a small, tired smile. “It was fine, I guess. I’m just tired.”

He glanced at you briefly, his sharp eyes catching the faint weariness in your tone. “Long day?”

You nodded, leaning your head back against the seat. “Yeah. A lot of patients, a lot of paperwork. Same old stuff.”

Horangi hummed in response, turning his attention back to the road as he navigated through the quiet streets. “You’ve got to take it easy, Hase. You can’t help anyone if you’re burnt out.”

You chuckled softly, though his concern warmed you. “I know. Just part of the job.”

For a moment, the car was filled with the low hum of the engine, the silence between you and Horangi comfortable, almost soothing. He’d always been good at this—being present without demanding too much from you, offering his quiet companionship without asking for more than you were willing to share.

As your apartment came into view, he broke the silence, his tone turning more serious. “Did König call you today?”

You blinked at the unexpected question. “No, not today. Why?”

Horangi shrugged, but the slight tightening of his grip on the steering wheel didn’t go unnoticed. “Just curious. He mentioned you last time we talked.”

You frowned, sitting up a little straighter. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” Horangi replied, though his casual tone felt deliberate, like he was measuring his words. “Just that he’s keeping an eye on you.”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the statement. König’s protectiveness had always been a comfort, but paired with Horangi’s sudden interest, it now felt… unsettling.

“He’s been like that lately,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Horangi didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze flicked toward you as he pulled into a parking spot outside your building. “Well, let me know if anything feels… off. König’s a good man, but he can be intense. Sometimes too intense.”

You nodded slowly, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I will. Thanks, Horangi.”

He returned the nod, his sharp gaze following you as you stepped out of the car. It lingered until you disappeared inside the building. Gratitude flickered in your chest, but unease lingered, knotting in your stomach as you gave him one last wave.

Once inside, you locked the door with a practiced motion, the sound of the deadbolt sliding home offering a small sense of security. Yet the silence of your apartment felt heavier than usual. Leaning against the door, you exhaled deeply, letting the weight of the day settle over you.

Dropping your bag to the floor, you pressed your hands against your face, rubbing away the lingering thoughts of Ghost, Soap, and Horangi’s cryptic words.

But then you felt it.

A shift in the air. Subtle, but unmistakable.

You froze. The dimly lit living room seemed unchanged at first glance, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows over the furniture. Yet something felt… wrong.

Your breath caught in your throat as the sensation of being watched pressed against your skin, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Someone was here.

Swallowing hard, you forced your trembling voice out. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then, a faint shuffling sound from deeper in the apartment.

Your eyes snapped to the hallway leading to your bedroom. The noise was deliberate now, growing louder, and your heart pounded in your chest as panic set in.

Instinctively, you grabbed your phone, your hands trembling so badly it took two attempts to unlock it. Your mind raced, and the first name that surfaced was König’s. Whatever unease you’d felt earlier was buried under the immediate terror of the moment.

You dialed his number, pressing the phone to your ear as you backed toward the front door. Your gaze remained locked on the dark hallway, your breaths shallow and erratic.

The line rang once… twice…

“Kleine Hase?” König’s voice came through low and steady, grounding you for a moment.

“There’s someone in my apartment,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from cracking. “I-I can hear them.”

The shift in König’s tone was immediate—sharp and commanding, like a blade slicing through the panic. “Don’t hang up. Stay where you are. I’m coming. Now.”

You clutched the phone tightly, König’s calm yet fierce voice anchoring you as the shuffling grew louder, more deliberate. Whoever was there wasn’t trying to stay hidden anymore.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—you could use to defend yourself. A heavy ceramic vase on the side table caught your attention. You snatched it up, gripping it tightly in one hand while keeping the phone pressed to your ear with the other.

“König,” you whispered urgently, “please, hurry.”

“I’m close,” he assured you, his voice steady despite the fury bubbling beneath. “Stay on the line, Hase. Don’t move.”

You turned toward the hallway again, every shadow suddenly alive with malice. But it wasn’t until you caught the reflection in the mirror by the door that your heart stopped.

Ghost.

He stood behind you, his tall frame half-obscured by the darkness, his eyes unreadable behind his mask. His expression was sorrowful, but there was no mistaking his intent as he stepped forward.

“Ghost?” you whispered, your voice trembling with equal parts confusion and fear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice quiet but strained, as though the words pained him.

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you, one hand clutching a cloth while the other wrapped firmly around you, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Wha—” Your voice broke off as he pressed the cloth over your mouth and nose, the acrid scent of chemicals filling your senses. You thrashed against him, your struggles desperate but weakening with each passing second.

Through the haze of panic, König’s voice erupted from the phone, filled with raw fury. “HASE?! HASE!”

Your muffled cries echoed through the room as your legs buckled beneath you. Tears streamed down your face as your vision blurred. Ghost held you firm, his sorrowful gaze the last thing you saw before darkness pulled you under.

Even as unconsciousness claimed you, König’s enraged roar carried through the void—a storm breaking through the night.

Few minutes later, like a force of nature, the door slammed into the wall so hard it rattled on its hinges. His heavy footsteps thundered through the quiet space, his ragged breathing audible even before he appeared. König’s massive figure loomed in the entryway, his eyes blazing with fury and desperation.

The apartment felt eerily still, a sharp contrast to the chaos in his chest. The overturned chair, the faint scent of chemicals lingering in the air, and the abandoned phone on the floor painted a chilling picture.

“Scheisse…” His voice was low, dangerous, like the growl of a predator ready to strike.

König’s gloved hands clenched into fists at his sides as he scanned the room, his sharp eyes picking apart every detail. The faint indentation in the carpet where Ghost must’ve stood, your shoes abandoned by the couch as if you’d been caught off guard. He felt his pulse hammer in his temples, the blood roaring through his ears.

The memory of your muffled cries through the phone played in his mind on a cruel loop.

“Where are you?!” he seethed, his voice rough, echoing through the empty apartment. But the walls offered no answers.

König stormed toward the nearest clue—your phone. He snatched it up, his jaw clenching at the cracked screen and your last call still showing: König. His thumb hovered over the redial button before he stopped, forcing himself to inhale sharply.

If Ghost took you, then this wasn’t random. It wasn’t a mistake.

It was Don Shepherd's plan

König’s mind raced as his chest heaved, cold dread mixing with the fire of his anger. He would find you. No matter what it took—no matter who he had to go through.

He turned sharply, the floor creaking beneath his heavy steps. His voice dropped to a deadly murmur as he left your apartment like a shadow sweeping through the night.

“I’ll get you back. And they’ll regret ever laying hands on you.”

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callsigns-haze · 9 months ago

Text

Forbidden Whispers

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian!sister reader

Summary: In the midst of Solstice festivities, Y/N, a spirited Illyrian soldier and Cassian's younger sister, finds herself entangled in a clandestine affair with Azriel, the shadowy spymaster of the Night Court. As their passion ignites, they navigate the dangers of their forbidden love, all while concealing their affair from prying eyes.

Content Warning: This story contains explicit sexual content, including scenes of intimacy and mature themes.

A/n: Thank you so much for 300 followers!

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/N strode into the bustling hall, her heart pounding in rhythm with the drums that echoed through the Illyrian camp. Solstice had arrived, bringing with it a fervour that electrified the atmosphere, igniting a spark of excitement within her that she couldn't quite contain.

Dressed in her traditional Illyrian leathers, adorned with feathers and beads that shimmered in the flickering firelight, Y/N felt a surge of pride as she joined the throngs of her fellow warriors. It was a time of revelry, of celebration, but beneath the veneer of merriment lay an undercurrent of tension, a reminder of the looming threat that hung over Prythian.

As Y/N scanned the crowd, her gaze inevitably found its way to Azriel, the shadowy spymaster of the Night Court, who stood at the edge of the gathering like a spectre cloaked in darkness. Despite the distance between them, she felt the weight of his gaze upon her, a silent exchange that sent shivers down her spine.

She had always been drawn to Azriel, captivated by the enigmatic allure that surrounded him like a cloak of shadows. There was a darkness within him, a depth of mystery that beckoned to her in ways she couldn't quite understand. And as their eyes met across the crowded hall, she knew that tonight would be different, that the boundaries between them would blur in the flickering light of Solstice.

Summoning all her courage, Y/N made her way through the throng, weaving between dancers and revellers with a grace born of years spent honing her skills on the battlefield. With each step, the anticipation grew, a fire burning in her veins as she drew closer to Azriel's side.

And then, finally, she stood before him, her breath catching in her throat as she met his gaze, dark as midnight and just as mesmerizing. There was a tension between them, a palpable electricity that crackled in the air, igniting a spark of desire that threatened to consume them both.

"Y/N," Azriel murmured, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers racing down her spine. "What brings you to the shadows on this night of celebration?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned in closer, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. "Perhaps I simply wanted to dance with the shadows themselves," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, she extended her hand, an invitation that hung between them like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. And as Azriel took her hand in his, the world around them faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the swirling chaos of Solstice.

Together, they danced, their movements fluid and graceful, a testament to the unspoken connection that bound them together. And as the night wore on, the barriers between them began to crumble, leaving nothing but raw desire and longing in their wake.

For in the shadows of Solstice, Y/N and Azriel found solace in each other's arms, their forbidden love burning bright against the backdrop of a world on the brink of war. And as the first light of dawn broke across the horizon, they knew that their love would endure, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the music swirled around them, a hypnotic rhythm that seemed to echo the pounding of their hearts, Azriel's breath brushed against Y/N's ear as he leaned in close, his voice a low, enticing murmur that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Would you like to get out of here?" he whispered, his words laced with a potent mixture of desire and temptation.

Y/N's pulse quickened at the suggestion, her mind awash with conflicting emotions. She knew the risks of entertaining such thoughts, especially considering her status as Cassian's little sister. But in that moment, as Azriel's dark eyes bore into hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, all she could think about was the undeniable pull between them, a magnetic force that drew them together like moths to a flame.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as she surrendered to the intoxicating allure of the spymaster standing before her.

With a silent understanding that transcended words, Azriel took her hand in his and led her away from the crowded hall, their footsteps falling in sync with the pulsing beat of their hearts. They moved through the camp like phantoms in the night, slipping between shadows and moonlight until they reached the relative seclusion of Y/N's quarters.

Once inside, the air crackled with tension, a palpable electricity that charged the space between them. Azriel's gaze bore into hers with an intensity that left her breathless, his desire laid bare for her to see.

"I know who you are," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he closed the distance between them, his hand coming to rest against her cheek with a feather-light touch. "And I know the risks of what we're doing. But I can't deny what I feel for you, Y/N. I've tried, but I can't fight it any longer."

Y/N's heart thundered in her chest at his words, her resolve crumbling beneath the weight of her own desire. She reached out, her fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair as she pulled him closer, sealing their fate with a desperate kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion between them.

In that moment, as their bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself, Y/N knew that she was risking everything for a love that defied the boundaries of their world. But as Azriel's lips trailed along her skin, leaving a blazing trail of heat in their wake, she also knew that some risks were worth taking, even if they led to the brink of destruction.

As their lips met in a fervent embrace, the world around them seemed to fade into oblivion, leaving only the heat of their desire and the intoxicating taste of each other's lips. Azriel's hands trailed along Y/N's curves, a feather-light touch that sent shivers racing down her spine, while her own fingers danced across the hard planes of his chest, tracing the contours of muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.

With each passing moment, the kiss deepened, their breath mingling in a heady rush of passion and need. There was an urgency between them, a hunger that could not be denied as they sought solace in each other's arms, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as if guided by some unseen force.

As their hands roamed freely, clothes became nothing but obstacles to be discarded in their pursuit of each other. With practiced ease, they shed their garments, each movement fluid and seamless as if they had done this a thousand times before. And all the while, their lips remained locked in a desperate embrace, unwilling to break the connection even for a moment.

With each layer of clothing stripped away, the heat between them intensified, a blazing inferno that threatened to consume them whole. And as their naked bodies pressed together in a primal dance of desire, they knew that there was no turning back, no escaping the fierce passion that burned between them.

In that moment, as they surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, Y/N and Azriel became lost in each other, their souls entwined in a timeless embrace that transcended the boundaries of their world. And as they fell into the depths of passion, they knew that this was only the beginning of a love that would defy the very stars themselves.

With Y/N wrapped securely in his arms, Azriel carried her to the bed with a strength born of both desire and reverence. Gently laying her down amidst a sea of silken sheets, he lowered himself to her, his eyes burning with an intensity that mirrored the flames of their passion.

As he trailed kisses along the curve of her neck, Y/N arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as his lips brushed against her skin like a whisper of silk. With each feather-light caress, he worshipped her with a reverence that spoke of his adoration, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

But it was when his lips found purchase on her breast that a low moan tore from Y/N's throat, her fingers tangling in the dark locks of his hair as she surrendered to the exquisite pleasure coursing through her veins. With each flick of his tongue and tug of his teeth, he sent waves of sensation crashing over her, igniting a firestorm of need deep within her core.

"Azriel," she gasped, her voice a breathless plea as he teased her sensitive flesh with a delicate touch. "Oh, gods, don't stop."

His praises spurred her on, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each passing moment as he coaxed her body to new heights of ecstasy. And as their passion reached its peak, they became lost in each other, two souls bound together in a timeless dance of desire and devotion.

In that moment, as they surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, Y/N and Azriel knew that they had found something truly special in each other, a love that would endure the trials of time and fate. And as they melted into each other's arms, they whispered promises of forever, knowing that together, they could conquer even the darkest of shadows.

With a hunger burning in her eyes, Y/N locked gazes with Azriel, her voice a desperate plea as she uttered those three simple words that spoke volumes of her need.

"I need you now."

The intensity in her voice matched the fire that blazed within Azriel's dark eyes, his desire mirroring her own as he gazed down at her with an unwavering gaze. Without a word, he understood her plea, her longing for a connection that transcended the physical.

With a tenderness born of both love and reverence, Azriel positioned himself above her, his powerful frame poised to fulfil her every desire. And as he entered her, inch by inch, a low moan tore from Y/N's throat, her nails digging into his shoulders as she surrendered to the exquisite pleasure that washed over her.

Azriel was everything she had ever dreamed of and more, his size and wingspan a testament to his strength and power. But it was his tenderness, his gentleness, that truly stole her breath away as he moved within her, each thrust a symphony of sensation that left her gasping for more.

As Azriel quickened his pace, driving deeper into the depths of her desire, Y/N's moans grew louder, echoing off the walls of their chamber with a fervour that bordered on ecstasy. With each thrust, she felt herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, her body trembling with a pleasure so intense it threatened to consume her whole.

Her cries of ecstasy filled the room, a symphony of passion that mingled with the sound of their ragged breaths and the rhythmic slap of their bodies colliding. And as she tugged at Azriel's hair with a desperate need, her nails digging into his skin in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, he praised her with words that only fuelled the fire burning within her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "So perfect, so... exquisite."

His praises only served to drive her wilder, her cries growing louder with each passing moment as she surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to consume her whole. And as Azriel urged her on with words of encouragement and adoration, she knew that she was lost, lost in a sea of pleasure and passion that knew no bounds.

Together, they soared on the wings of their love, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they chased the fleeting moments of ecstasy that danced just beyond their grasp. And as they tumbled over the edge together, their cries of release mingling in the air like a sweet symphony of desire, they knew that this was only the beginning of a love that would burn bright for all eternity.

As Azriel delved deeper into the depths of her desire, Y/N found herself overcome with a wave of raw emotion that threatened to consume her whole. Tears spilled from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks in a torrent of sensation as pleasure mingled with pain in a bittersweet symphony that left her breathless.

Screaming his name, she begged for more, her voice raw with need as she surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to pull her under. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins, igniting a firestorm of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

"Azriel!" she cried, her voice echoing off the walls of their chamber with a desperation that bordered on madness. "Oh gods, Azriel, don't stop!"

Her cries filled the room, a symphony of ecstasy that mingled with the sound of their ragged breaths and the rhythmic slap of their bodies colliding. And as Azriel urged her on with words of encouragement and adoration, she felt herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, her senses consumed by the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to consume her whole.

With one final, desperate cry, she tumbled over the edge, her body convulsing with the force of her release as pleasure washed over her in a tidal wave of ecstasy. And as she clung to Azriel with a fierce desperation, she knew that this was only the beginning of a love that would burn bright for all eternity, a love that transcended the boundaries of their world and soared on the wings of their passion.

As their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of their passionate encounter, Y/N and Azriel collapsed beside each other, their chests rising and falling in sync with the rhythm of their ragged breaths. In the hazy aftermath of their lovemaking, they lay entwined in a tangle of limbs, their fingers tracing lazy patterns across each other's skin as they tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them.

For Y/N, the reality of what they had just done hit her like a ton of bricks, sending shockwaves of realization coursing through her veins. She was Cassian's little sister, a warrior in her own right, and yet here she lay, tangled in the arms of the shadowy spymaster of the Night Court. It was a forbidden love, a secret liaison that could spell disaster for them both if it were ever discovered.

And yet, as she stole a glance at Azriel, his dark eyes heavy-lidded with desire, she couldn't deny the fierce longing that burned within her, a longing that whispered of a love that defied the boundaries of their world. With each passing moment, she felt herself falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of her desire, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence.

Beside her, Azriel panted heavily, his chest heaving with exertion as he struggled to catch his breath. His dark eyes bore into hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that still raged between them.

In that moment, as they lay together in the quiet stillness of the night, they both understood the gravity of what they had just done, the risks they had taken and the consequences they would face if their secret were ever revealed.

As the weight of their forbidden passion hung heavy in the air, and before Azriel could utter a single word, the tranquility of the moment shattered with a thunderous pounding at the door. Y/N's heart lurched in her chest, a cold dread creeping over her as the voice on the other side grew louder and angrier.

"YN!"

She heard, his voice like a thunderclap, reverberating through the room with a ferocity that made her blood run cold.

Azriel's expression hardened, a flicker of concern passing through his dark eyes as he moved to stand, his movements swift and purposeful. With a sense of urgency, he gathered their scattered clothing, tossing them haphazardly to Y/N as he moved to answer the door.

"Cassian!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Please, just listen—"

But before she could finish her plea, Cassian's voice thundered through the door once again, cutting her off with a ferocity that left her reeling.

"You have five seconds to explain yourself before I break down this door!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls of their chamber with a force that left no room for argument.

And as the tension between them reached a boiling point, Y/N knew that their lives would never be the same again.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger

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