#this host is both so elegant and so calming....

[faebled-stories]

Turbulence

Kinkvember Day 16: Mile High Club

Nmixx Oh Haewon x Male reader

8.8k words

“Hello, everyone! Welcome back to WORKDOL!” Haewon’s voice rang out with a contagious spark of energy, her words riding the crisp autumn breeze that teased strands of her dark hair across her face. She tucked them back with a practiced flick of her fingers, her radiant smile lighting up the screen. The sunlight played across her features, a golden halo highlighting her natural charisma as she gestured toward the sleek entrance behind her.

“I’m your beautiful and loving host, Haewon, and today’s challenge is taking me to new heights—literally.” Her laughter carried an edge of anticipation, and her enthusiasm practically leaped through the camera lens. The airline training facility behind her loomed like a modern cathedral of glass and steel, its polished facade catching the sun in a dazzling display that mirrored both her energy and the grandeur of the setting. The gleaming reflection framed her figure, a dynamic blend of her bold personality and the facility’s imposing elegance.

Spinning back to face the entrance, her boots clicking smartly against the pavement, she spread her arms in an exuberant gesture. “I’ve done some pretty wild stuff on this show, but today, I’m stepping into the shoes of a flight attendant. And trust me, there’s a lot more to it than just handing out snacks at 30,000 feet.” Her grin widened as she took a confident step forward. “Safety, service, and smooth skies—I’m going to learn it all. Let’s see if I can keep up!”

The automatic glass doors slid open with a whisper, releasing a wave of cool, conditioned air that carried a faint hint of jet fuel and a clean, soapy freshness from the nearby uniforms. Pausing inside the cavernous lobby, Haewon drew a steadying breath, her chest rising and falling as she absorbed her surroundings. The space was vast yet orderly, sunlight pouring through towering windows onto sleek tiled floors. The low hum of conversations mixed with the soft beeping of security scanners, a quiet symphony of activity that spoke of precision and focus.

It was then that she saw you.

Standing near the check-in counter, your presence immediately commanded attention. Your tailored navy-blue uniform was impeccably pressed, each detail from the sharp creases of your slacks to the polished silver wings on your chest exuding professionalism. Yet, it was your demeanor that truly captured her focus—a calm, collected confidence that made the bustling environment seem to orbit around you. When your eyes met hers, there was something both grounding and electric in your gaze, a quiet assurance paired with a welcoming warmth.

“Welcome aboard, Haewon,” you said, your voice low and steady, carrying an effortless blend of authority and approachability. Extending a hand toward her, you added with a faint smirk, “Ready for a crash course in being a flight attendant?”

She took your hand, her grip firm yet lingering just a beat longer than necessary. “Oh, I think I’m ready,” she replied, her tone light with a teasing edge. A playful glance back at the camera crew underscored her words. “The question is—are you ready for me?”

The faintest flicker of amusement crossed your face, softening your otherwise composed expression. “I’ve trained a lot of people,” you said smoothly, your tone betraying nothing but cool professionalism. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be... different.”

Her laugh rang out, light and musical. “You have no idea.”

Falling into step beside you, Haewon matched your calm stride, her eyes occasionally flicking toward you as if trying to decipher the layers beneath your poised exterior. The hallway stretched ahead, its polished floors gleaming under the soft glow of overhead lights. The distant hum of simulators grew louder with each step, a low, almost hypnotic vibration that thrummed through the air.

“So,” she began, her voice playful, “do you always keep it this formal, or are you saving the charm for later?”

You glanced at her sidelong, the corner of your mouth twitching in the faintest smile. “Let’s focus on the basics first,” you replied, your tone both firm and teasing. “Charm might come later—if you earn it.”

She let out a soft laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she shot you a challenging look. “Challenge accepted.”

When the training cabin came into view, Haewon slowed, her steps faltering ever so slightly as she took in the scene before her. The replica interior was a flawless facsimile of an airplane cabin, every detail meticulously crafted to mimic reality. Pristine rows of fabric seats stretched into the distance, their neatly aligned headrests giving an air of almost military precision.

Overhead compartments gleamed under the soft fluorescent lighting, their edges perfectly contoured. At the far end, emergency equipment was arranged with a precision that exuded both order and a subtle, sobering weight.

For the first time, Haewon felt the enormity of the task ahead. Her playful energy wavered just a touch, replaced by a flicker of trepidation. This wasn’t just another challenge for the cameras—this was about responsibility. Lives could depend on what she was about to learn.

“We’re starting with the safety demonstration,” you said, your voice calm but carrying a note of gravity that pulled her back into the moment. “Passengers rely on flight attendants to guide them in emergencies, so this is one of the most critical parts of the job. You’ll learn how to operate the oxygen masks, life jackets, and cabin doors.”

“No pressure, right?” she quipped, her grin returning, though there was an edge of nervousness beneath it.

You gave her a reassuring smile, stepping forward with practiced ease to open an overhead compartment. The soft click of the latch released the panel, and you retrieved a bright yellow oxygen mask. The tubing coiled slightly as you held it aloft, the rubberized surface gleaming under the lights.

“Step by step,” you said, offering the mask to her. Your hand brushed hers briefly, the contact fleeting yet charged enough to make her pause. Haewon quickly recovered, mimicking your demonstration as she secured the mask over her face. Her movements were careful, deliberate, though she couldn’t help but notice how your steady gaze stayed on her, assessing, encouraging.

“Not bad,” you remarked, a flicker of amusement in your eyes as she fumbled slightly with the straps. “You’re a quick study.”

“I’m great at learning... with the right teacher,” she replied, her smirk returning as her confidence steadied.

Your expression didn’t waver, though there was an unmistakable warmth in your tone as you handed her a life jacket next. “We’ll see if that holds true,” you said. “Let’s keep going.”

The training session continued with a steady rhythm, each task blending professionalism with an undercurrent of tension that simmered just below the surface. As you demonstrated how to secure the life jacket, Haewon’s focus wavered. Her attention was drawn to the way your hands moved—precise, confident, every gesture purposeful.

When you stepped closer to adjust the straps on her shoulders, your fingers brushed against her collarbone. The contact was fleeting but sent a ripple of heat through her skin, as if the touch carried an unspoken promise. Her breath caught for just a second, and a soft flush crept up her neck before she quickly composed herself, hiding her reaction behind a practiced, teasing grin.

“There,” you said, stepping back to assess your work. A faint smile played at the corners of your lips, a mix of satisfaction and subtle amusement. “Now you’re ready.”

“Think I’ll pass the test?” she asked, her tone light, though a slight waver betrayed her lingering nerves.

“You’re doing well so far,” you replied, your voice low and steady, the warmth in your tone an unspoken reassurance. The way your gaze lingered on hers for just a moment longer than necessary sent her pulse racing. Then, as if sensing the shift, you turned away smoothly, giving her the space to collect herself.

When the meal service portion of the training began, Haewon found herself walking a fine line between playful confidence and distraction. Carrying the serving tray through the narrow aisles of the mock cabin was surprisingly challenging, especially with you standing close. Your quiet observations, both grounding and unnerving, felt like a spotlight she couldn’t escape. She could feel your presence even when you weren’t speaking, your calm authority acting as both a guide and a silent challenge.

By the end of the ground training, Haewon was beaming with pride. Her earlier apprehension had melted into a palpable sense of accomplishment. She straightened her posture, adjusting the collar of her uniform as she turned to you. “Not bad for my first day, right?” she teased.

“You’ve done well,” you admitted, a hint of warmth softening your typically composed demeanor. But then your expression shifted, a spark of anticipation flashing in your eyes. “But we’re not done yet. In about an hour, you’ll put everything you’ve learned to the test—on a real flight.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, though excitement quickly replaced any hesitation. “An actual flight? Already?”

You nodded, your faint smirk returning. “No pressure.”

Her laugh was bright and full of confidence, though a nervous energy buzzed beneath the surface. “Bring it on.”

-----

The short break passed in a blur, and before Haewon knew it, she was standing in the aisle of an actual airplane, her hands clutching a laminated safety demonstration card. The hum of the engines filled the cabin, a low, steady vibration that thrummed through her feet and echoed in her chest. The lighting overhead cast a warm glow, softening the sharp lines of the space and lending it a strangely intimate atmosphere.

You stood nearby, your posture relaxed but your gaze sharp, watching her every move with quiet intensity. Despite the weight of your presence, Haewon felt a thread of camaraderie growing between you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that had begun during the ground training. She could see it in the way your gaze softened when she stumbled slightly, and in the faint curl of your lips when she recovered with a self-deprecating joke.

The flight was already underway, the cabin filled with the faint murmur of passengers chatting, flipping through magazines, and settling into their seats. The scent of coffee brewing in the galley mingled with the sterile metallic tang of the recycled air, creating a distinct atmosphere unique to being miles above the earth.

Haewon stood near the forward galley, her hand resting lightly on the counter. She adjusted her uniform self-consciously, keenly aware of your steady presence just a few steps away.

“Ready for service?” you asked, your tone calm, with just enough of a challenge to make her lift her chin confidently.

“Born ready,” she quipped, grabbing a tray from the counter with a playful flourish. Her confidence faltered slightly when the tray shifted awkwardly in her hands, but she recovered quickly, shooting you a grin. “No big deal—I’ve got this.”

Your lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “Let’s hope the passengers feel the same.”

Haewon stepped into the aisle, her posture straightening as she approached her first task: offering drinks and snacks to the passengers. The tray was heavier than she anticipated, the weight testing her balance as she maneuvered through the narrow space. Her heart beat a little faster when she caught you watching her, your gaze steady, assessing, and just a touch amused.

As she handed a cup of coffee to an elderly passenger, she glanced over her shoulder. “See? Flawless,” she said lightly, her grin widening.

“Not bad,” you replied, following her at a measured pace. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

“I’m more than getting the hang of it,” she retorted, her voice playful as she breezed past you to the next row. “I’m a natural.”

The subtle challenge in her tone drew a soft chuckle from you, though your expression remained composed. The exchange felt like a dance, her energy bouncing off your calm reserve in a way that kept her sharp and on edge.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, your voice low enough that only she could hear. “The day’s not over yet.”

By the time the aisle service was complete, Haewon’s steps carried a bit more confidence. She returned to the galley, her tray empty, and set it down with a triumphant flourish. “Mission accomplished,” she declared, turning to face you.

“You’ve done well,” you acknowledged, a note of approval in your tone that made her pulse quicken. “But the real test is consistency.”

“Oh, I’m all about consistency,” she replied, tilting her head challengingly. “Care to test me?”

Your gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer than necessary, the tension between you thickening with every second of silence. Just as the moment threatened to stretch into something unspoken, a chime from the cabin interrupted. You glanced away first, your professionalism snapping back into place like a shield.

“Passengers first,” you said, your tone lighter now, though the flicker of warmth in your eyes remained.

Haewon followed your lead for the rest of the flight, her confidence growing with every completed task. Yet, no matter how routine the work became, she couldn’t ignore the charged undercurrent in your interactions. Every time you brushed past her in the galley or caught her gaze across the cabin, her heart skipped a beat. The professionalism you maintained only heightened the tension, leaving her thoughts spinning and her pulse racing.

-----

As the plane leveled out and the hum of the engines steadied into a calm rhythm, the cabin lights softened, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. The passengers had settled into a quiet lull, the initial excitement of the flight giving way to a tranquil, almost meditative calm.

Haewon stood near the galley counter, her hands loosely gripping the edge as she exhaled, letting the whirlwind of the day finally catch up with her. Her body hummed with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, the tension of performing ebbing away to leave a buzz of satisfaction.

A few steps away, you leaned casually against the galley wall, your posture at ease but your gaze sharp, still assessing her as though the challenge hadn’t quite ended. The subtle intensity in your expression made her pulse quicken, though your silence carried no judgment—only a quiet, thoughtful admiration that sent her nerves fluttering.

“You did well,” you said finally, your voice low and steady, breaking the stillness like the first ripple in calm water. “Better than I expected.”

Her lips curved into a playful smile, the rare note of praise filling her with a quiet thrill. “Was there ever any doubt?” she teased, tilting her head as she leaned back slightly against the counter.

The faintest chuckle escaped you, soft and warm, like an echo of her own energy. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, the flicker of amusement in your expression lighting your features.

The honesty caught her off guard, her grin faltering for just a second before returning with a bolder edge. For a fleeting moment, the dynamic between you shifted, the playful air giving way to something deeper. Your expression softened, the lines of your usual composure blurring into something unguarded. The change drew her in, the hum of the plane fading into the background as the tension between you thickened—unspoken but palpable.

“You know,” she said, her voice light yet laced with teasing, “I think I’ve earned a little celebration for surviving my first day. Don’t you?”

Your brow arched slightly, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What kind of celebration are we talking about?”

Her response caught in her throat for a moment, and the faint heat that bloomed in her cheeks only added to the weight of her words when she finally spoke. “Something… exclusive,” she said, her voice steady but rich with a daring undertone.

The meaning behind her words hung in the air, unmistakable and electric. Your gaze deepened, amusement giving way to something more deliberate. You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to a quiet murmur that seemed to wrap around her. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Her heart thundered against her ribs, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, closing the space between you with a confidence that surprised even her. The smile on her lips grew, soft yet determined, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve been ready all day.”

For a moment, the cabin around you seemed to fade. The muted golden light cast soft shadows across your face, highlighting the quiet intensity in your gaze as you studied her. Neither of you moved, the charged silence between you tightening like a drawn bowstring.

Then, with deliberate calm, you extended your hand toward her. Your touch was firm yet gentle, grounding as you guided her away from the galley. She followed without hesitation, her pulse racing as you led her toward the back of the plane.

At the rear, you pushed open the small lavatory door, the soft creak of its hinges cutting through the hush. Your hand lingered at the small of her back as she stepped inside, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver up her spine. When the door clicked shut behind you, the energy that had simmered between you all day finally erupted.

The confined space sharpened every sensation—the soft rustle of fabric as you turned to face her, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the sterile metallic air, the heat radiating from your bodies in the tight quarters. Her breath hitched as your eyes locked, the tension that had stretched between you snapping in an instant.

Your hands found her waist, pulling her to you as your lips claimed hers in a kiss that was both searing and deliberate. Her gasp was muffled against your mouth as her fingers threaded into your hair, drawing you closer. Her body arched into yours, every inch of her responding to the intensity of the moment.

Your lips trailed from hers to her neck, lingering along the sensitive skin as you placed slow, deliberate kisses. Each touch drew a shiver from her, her breath catching when your teeth grazed her pulse point. “Are you sure about this?” you murmured against her neck, your voice rough with restraint.

Her reply came shaky but resolute, her hands clutching your shoulders like an anchor. “I’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, her pulse hammering beneath your lips as she tilted her head to give you better access.

The cramped space seemed to vanish as the moment consumed you both, the world outside forgotten in the wake of the energy unleashed between you.

The space was impossibly small, the metallic walls almost brushing against your shoulders, and the occasional jolt of turbulence only heightened the intensity of the moment. The space smelled faintly of disinfectant, mingled with the subtle trace of Haewon’s perfume—a delicate floral scent that teased your senses.

As you leaned back slightly against the narrow counter, Haewon knelt before you, her movements deliberate, her gaze unwavering. Her eyes, dark and filled with a mix of longing and playful confidence, locked onto yours, and the weight of her focus sent a shiver down your spine. Her breath was steady but quickening, her lips parting slightly as she settled into position.

The rustle of fabric was almost deafening in the otherwise quiet space as you undid your belt, the metallic clink of the buckle punctuating the silence. Haewon’s hands moved lightly to your thighs, her touch sending an electric jolt through your skin. Her fingers curled slightly, their delicate pressure grounding you even as your pulse quickened.

Her lips parted with deliberate intent, her breath warm against your skin as she began, her tongue tracing the underside of your length in slow, purposeful strokes. The first touch sent a shiver through you, your breath catching as she took her time, savoring each movement. Her tongue flattened against you, the slick glide paired with soft, teasing flicks that made your pulse pound. The confined space seemed to amplify everything—the wet sound of her tongue, the low, needy hum vibrating in her throat, and the sharp inhale you couldn’t suppress as her mouth enveloped you.

She started with an almost agonizing slowness, her lips forming a tight seal as she slid over you, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked with increasing intensity. Her tongue danced in deliberate patterns, tracing every vein and ridge as if committing them to memory. Each time she withdrew, she paused to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your length, her lips lingering as if savoring your taste. The contrast between the wet heat of her mouth and the cool air when she pulled away only heightened your sensitivity.

Her arousal became evident as she worked, her thighs pressing together as if seeking friction, a faint sheen of moisture beginning to darken the fabric at the apex of her legs. She shifted slightly, her hips grinding subtly against the floor as if responding to the growing heat building within her. A quiet, breathy moan escaped her lips as she took you deeper, the vibration against your skin sending a wave of pleasure surging through you.

Haewon’s movements became more confident, more urgent, her lips sliding over you with a rhythm that left no room for hesitation. She adjusted herself, her knees pressing firmly into the floor as her fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady. Each time she took you into her throat, her muscles relaxed just enough to accommodate you, her moans growing louder as her arousal deepened. The faint scent of her arousal mixed with the confined air, a subtle but intoxicating reminder of how much she was enjoying this.

She pulled back slightly, her tongue flicking against your sensitive tip before she plunged forward again, her pace quickening. Her movements were fluid yet hungry, her cheeks flushed with exertion and desire. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, catching the dim light, her effort and arousal written across every inch of her face. Her thighs shifted again, the friction of her movements drawing faint, involuntary gasps from her lips. You could see the way her body responded, her nipples pressing against her shirt, and the faint wetness between her legs growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in her hair, guiding her rhythm as she moaned around you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. She glanced up, her eyes glassy with desire, locking with yours as her lips stretched around you. That single look—filled with submission, need, and the unmistakable hunger to please—nearly undid you. Her mouth worked with a relentless precision, her tongue swirling in ways that left you gasping, her moans becoming increasingly desperate as if her own pleasure was tied to yours.

Her free hand slid up her own thigh, disappearing beneath the fabric of her shorts. You could see the subtle movement as her fingers pressed against herself, her hips rolling slightly to meet her touch. The sight of her pleasuring herself while her mouth remained focused on you sent a fresh wave of heat surging through your core. Her moans grew louder, muffled by your length, the vibrations intensifying as she worked herself closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Haewon,” you groaned, your voice thick with desire. She responded by taking you deeper, her throat relaxing as she let out a low, guttural moan that sent your head spinning. The slick heat of her mouth combined with the knowledge of her growing arousal pushed you closer to your breaking point.

As you felt the tension cresting, you tugged her hair gently, guiding her upward. Her lips released you with a wet, lewd pop, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and glistening, and her eyes dark with lust. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her arousal evident in the way her breath hitched, the damp spot on her shorts impossible to miss as she rose to her feet.

You tilted her chin upward, your thumb brushing along her jawline as you gazed into her eyes. “You’re fucking perfect,” you murmured, your voice thick with need. Her lips parted, her breath quick and shallow, as she leaned into you. The heat radiating from her skin matched your own as you claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against you.

Haewon’s breaths came faster now, shallow and uneven, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips betraying the storm of emotions building within her. The vibrations of the plane beneath your feet, steady and unrelenting, seemed to mirror the pulse racing through her body, each tremor adding fuel to the fire already burning between you.

As you lifted her onto the counter, her body trembled beneath your touch. Her thighs pressed against your hips, her wet heat already evident even through the thin layers of clothing. The way her legs instinctively wrapped around your waist made your heart pound harder. Her hands gripped your shoulders for support, her fingertips digging into your skin as though anchoring herself to you. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, her breath catching with every soft, involuntary sound that escaped her lips.

Her arousal was undeniable in every movement, every soft gasp and whimper filling the small space. Her hips shifted forward to meet yours, the friction building with every press of her body against yours. The scent of her, faintly sweet and musky, mingled with the sterile air of the lavatory, creating a heady atmosphere that heightened your senses.

When your hand slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the damp heat of her panties, her body jolted at the contact. She let out a shaky moan, her hips arching instinctively to press herself closer to your touch. Her wetness had already soaked through the fabric, clinging to her folds, and as you slid the thin material aside, your fingers were met with slick, yielding warmth. “Please,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her thighs quivering around you as you teased her.

You lined yourself up, the heat of her body radiating against you as you pressed the tip of your length against her entrance. Her breath hitched sharply, her nails digging into your shoulders as she gazed into your eyes. There was a flicker of vulnerability in her expression, one that gave you pause, but when she nodded, her lips parting to whisper, “I want this,” it was all the reassurance you needed. Slowly, carefully, you began to press into her.

Her body was tight—almost unbearably so—and the resistance you felt made you move even slower, your hips advancing inch by inch. Haewon’s lips trembled as her hands clutched at your back, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “You’re so tight,” you murmured, your voice soft as you paused, letting her adjust to the intrusion. She nodded faintly, her eyes fluttering closed as you sank a little deeper, her slick heat enveloping you inch by inch.

Just as you were making progress sheathing yourself inside her, the plane lurched violently, a sudden jolt of turbulence rocking the small room. The unexpected motion drove you completely into her, the force of it pushing past the last barrier. Haewon cried out sharply, her back arching as her hands flew to your shoulders, gripping you tightly. Her cry wasn’t just from pleasure but something deeper, more visceral. You froze immediately, your heart pounding as you registered the slight quiver in her body.

Something felt different—there was a heat, a tightness, an overwhelming sense of newness that struck you all at once. When you pulled back slightly, you caught a glimpse of a faint sheen of blood on yourself. Your eyes widened in shock, and you instinctively met her gaze. Tears shimmered in her eyes, from pain and something softer, more emotional. “Haewon…” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. “Are you… were you a virgin?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed as she nodded, her thighs still trembling against you. “Yes,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… It's okay. I wanted this. I wanted you.” Her words were firm despite the tears in her eyes, her expression filled with trust and desire. “I knew it would hurt a little, but I didn’t care. I wanted you to be my first.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, a mix of emotions flooding through you—pride, awe, and a deep, possessive protectiveness. “Are you sure?” you asked, brushing a hand along her cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray tear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled faintly, her hands reaching up to cradle your face. “You’re not hurting me,” she said softly. “I’ve never wanted anything more. Please… don’t stop.”

Her reassurance steadied you, her soft, trusting smile anchoring you in the moment. You leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow but deeply charged, your tongue brushing against hers in a rhythm that matched the gentle rocking of her hips. Her breath hitched as you trailed kisses down her jawline, your lips mapping the contours of her skin with deliberate precision. When you reached her neck, you paused, your breath warm against her pulse point, feeling the rapid flutter beneath her skin.

Your teeth grazed the delicate flesh there, and she let out a soft, startled gasp, her hips pressing forward as though urging you on. You closed your lips around the spot, sucking gently, your tongue soothing the faint sting as your teeth pressed into her again, deeper this time. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her quiet whimper sending a jolt of heat straight through you. The small bruise that bloomed against her skin was a mark meant only for the two of you, a memory hidden in plain sight.

She shifted against you as your lips moved lower, trailing across the sensitive curve of her neck. Each press of your mouth drew a soft moan from her lips, her body responding instinctively to your touch. The marks you left were subtle but unmistakable, scattered along the line of her neck with care, the kind of marks that would be easy to conceal yet impossible to forget. She shivered beneath your touch, her skin warm and slightly damp, her arousal palpable in every movement.

“Hold me,” she gasped suddenly, her voice raw and trembling with need. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck, pulling you closer as her fingers tangled in your hair, gripping you as though she couldn’t bear to let go. The way she clung to you, her nails digging gently into your scalp, sent a wave of possessive desire surging through you.

Her hips began to move with more urgency, grinding against you with an unrestrained eagerness that left you teetering on the edge of control. Each thrust drew her closer, her moans growing louder as the rhythm between you became chaotic, driven by both the unpredictable sway of the plane and the unrelenting heat building between you. Her breath mingled with yours, her cries becoming softer, more desperate, her body melting into yours as she surrendered to the moment completely.

The sensation of her trembling against you, the heat radiating from her skin, and the intimacy of the marks left on her neck—all of it combined to push the tension higher, until every movement felt like a tidal wave, crashing through both of you.

Just as her moans reached a fever pitch, a loud knock on the lavatory door broke through the haze. “Is everything alright in there?” came a muffled voice from outside.

The sudden interruption sent a shock through both of you, and Haewon’s eyes snapped open, wide with surprise. The tension in her body, already at its peak, pushed her over the edge. Her inner walls clenched around you violently, her body trembling as the rush of adrenaline mingled with the overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her head fell back against the wall, her lips parting in a strangled cry.

Her release was sudden and explosive, her moans rising uncontrollably as her entire body shook. “I can’t… it’s too much,” she gasped, her nails raking down your back as her hips bucked against yours. The act of nearly being caught seemed to strip away the last of her restraint, her climax crashing over her with unrelenting intensity. Her wetness flooded over you, her thighs tightening around your waist as she rode out the waves of her release.

“Occupied!” you barked, your voice rough and commanding, echoing in the small space. The sound of it seemed to ripple through Haewon, her body jolting at the force of your tone. Her legs locked tighter around you, her inner walls fluttering as the vibrations of the plane and the moment’s urgency drove her deeper into ecstasy.

Her eyes met yours, glazed with pleasure and slightly dazed, her lips trembling as she tried to catch her breath. “I… I can’t,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. The sight of her—flushed, trembling, her neck marked with faint hickeys, her body still quaking with aftershocks—was enough to push you past the brink. Your thrusts became erratic, each movement driven by instinct as you chased your release. A guttural groan tore from your chest as you buried yourself deeply inside her, your climax hitting with a force that left you shaking.

The warmth of your release filled her, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the chaotic rhythm that had brought you both to this point. Your breaths mingled, the two of you clinging to each other in the aftermath, your bodies still pressed together as the world outside seemed to fade away.

The plane seemed to hum in harmony with the beating of your hearts as you held her close, your forehead resting against hers. The world outside the door ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of your passion. Haewon’s breathing was still uneven, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from the force of your kiss. Her hands slid up to cup your face, her eyes searching yours as a lazy, satisfied smile played on her lips.

You stayed like that for a moment, savoring the closeness, the intimacy of being completely wrapped up in each other. Outside, the distant murmur of passengers and the steady hum of the engines reminded you that the world hadn’t stopped for your moment, but inside the small lavatory, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies pressed tightly together as you caught your breath. The confined lavatory felt even smaller in the aftermath, the walls seeming to hum with the warmth of your shared passion. Slowly, you pulled back, your hands still resting on her waist as she leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Your eyes softened as you took her in—her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her lips swollen and glistening, and her hair slightly tousled. She looked utterly radiant, the glow of satisfaction mingling with a soft vulnerability in her expression.

“You okay?” you asked gently, your voice low and filled with concern, though the satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth betrayed your lingering exhilaration.

Haewon nodded, her lips curling into a lazy, blissful smile. “More than okay,” she whispered, her voice still breathless and soft, tinged with the lingering traces of pleasure. Her legs trembled slightly as she shifted, her body still adjusting to the aftermath of what had just transpired.

As her gaze dropped briefly, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face. The gesture was soft and unhurried, your touch lingering as you tucked the wayward strands neatly behind her ear. Haewon’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were filled with something deeper—an affectionate warmth that made her cheeks flush anew.

A small, shy smile tugged at her lips, and she couldn’t help but whisper, “You’re so gentle.” Her voice was soft, barely audible over the low hum of the plane’s engines.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there as if to seal the quiet moment between you. “Only with you,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with meaning.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, her hands resting lightly against your chest as she savored the intimacy of your touch. But as the seconds ticked by, her gaze flicked to the small mirror on the wall, and her expression shifted. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her hand flying to her neck as she caught sight of the faint bruises left by your lips. “Are those…?”

You followed her gaze, your eyes catching the small, dark marks scattered along the curve of her neck. Her cheeks turned crimson, and her hand trembled as she traced the marks. “People will see,” she muttered, her voice rising in a soft panic. “What am I going to do? I can’t—”

“Haewon,” you interrupted softly, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Look at me.” She hesitated, her breathing uneven, but when her eyes met yours, the panic began to ebb. “I’ll fix it. Trust me.”

You glanced toward her flight attendant scarf, folded neatly on the small counter. Picking it up, you unfolded it carefully and turned back to her. “Here,” you said gently, moving to drape it around her neck. Her eyes widened slightly as your hands brushed against her skin, adjusting the fabric with deliberate care. You knotted it carefully, the silk falling into place perfectly.

“There,” you murmured, stepping back slightly. “No one will know.”

She turned toward the mirror, her fingers brushing against the scarf as she inspected it. The marks were completely hidden, and she let out a soft, relieved breath. “Thank you,” she said quietly, turning back to face you. Her voice was filled with gratitude, but there was still a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

You reached out, brushing your fingers along her jaw, your touch light and reassuring. “You don’t have to thank me,” you said softly, your voice warm but tinged with something more serious. “But, Haewon… earlier…” You hesitated for a moment, searching her gaze. “I didn’t know it was your first time.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing deeper as her eyes dropped briefly before meeting yours again. “I know,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t want it to change anything.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she steadied herself, her gaze unwavering. “I wanted this. I wanted you.”

Her words hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest—pride, awe, and an overwhelming protectiveness. “Are you sure?” you asked gently, your thumb brushing against the side of her face. “I just… I don’t want you to regret this. Not here, not like this.”

Her lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile as she shook her head. “I won’t,” she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. “I knew what I was doing. I wanted this moment with you. And I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

Her sincerity left you momentarily speechless, the weight of her words settling deep in your chest. You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender and deliberate, lacking the earlier urgency but brimming with something far deeper. Her lips parted softly beneath yours, and when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, your hands steadying her trembling frame.

Her brows furrowed suddenly, and she crouched slightly, glancing around the cramped lavatory. “Wait…” she muttered, her voice tinged with embarrassment as her hands brushed over the floor and edges of the counter. “Where are my panties?”

You leaned back against the door, crossing your arms with a teasing smirk. “How could you lose that?” you asked, your voice playful but low, watching her as she searched.

Haewon shot you a quick glare, her cheeks burning brighter. “They were here! They couldn’t have just disappeared!” Her tone was exasperated but softened by the lingering flush of earlier.

Her hands continued to skim over the limited space, but after another minute, it was clear they were gone—lost somewhere in the heat of your earlier passion. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her as she stood, smoothing her skirt down again. Her hands paused against the fabric as she realized there was no time to keep searching.

“I guess I’m going without them,” she admitted in a quiet voice, her cheeks glowing as she avoided your gaze. The mix of embarrassment and exhilaration in her expression made you grin.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured her, your tone warm but teasing as you placed your hands on her arms. “Besides,” you added with a smirk, “it’ll be our little secret.”

Haewon rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. She adjusted her hair again with a shaky hand, though your earlier touch had already smoothed it into place. Her eyes flicked toward the door, her nervous energy returning as she cracked it open.

Just as she was about to step out, she hesitated, turning back toward you. Her cheeks flushed deeper, her lips curving into a shy, almost hesitant smile. You reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaning in to press a quick but tender kiss to her lips. It was brief, yet filled with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that lingered as her lips parted slightly beneath yours.

When you pulled back, her eyes softened, the nervous energy in her frame easing slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice quiet and filled with meaning.

“Always,” you replied just as softly, your hand brushing against her arm before she turned back toward the door.

She peeked out, glancing left and right to ensure the coast was clear, before stepping out into the aisle. Her stride was careful and measured, though her legs still trembled slightly beneath the polished professionalism of her steps. Her face was flushed, her hair still slightly a mess despite your attempts to fix it, and her lips retained the faint swelling of your kisses. Beneath her composed demeanor, the absence of her panties and the slickness between her thighs teased her with every step, a constant reminder of the intimacy you’d just shared.

You lingered for a moment, adjusting your cuffs and belt before stepping into the aisle yourself. Your gaze immediately sought Haewon, who was already walking ahead with a subtle confidence that belied the faint tremor in her legs. Her eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, a knowing spark passing between you that only deepened the warmth lingering in your chest.

As you resume your duties, the hum of the cabin returns to fill the air, but the quiet connection between you remains, a secret woven into the fabric of your stolen moment in the skies.

-----

After the plane had landed, Haewon moved to her place by the exit, ready to thank the passengers as they deplaned. It was a routine she had done countless times before—bowing, offering polite words, and smiling—but today, every movement carried an undercurrent of thrill. With each graceful bow, she became acutely aware of the warmth between her thighs, the undeniable sensation of your essence still inside her. Each slight pull of gravity as she bent forward sent a slick, teasing reminder of your earlier passion, and she fought to keep her expression neutral.

The sensation was impossible to ignore. As she straightened each time, she could feel it shift within her, threatening to escape, a subtle but constant tease that made her cheeks flush and her steps slightly more measured. The absence of her panties only heightened the awareness, the cool air beneath her skirt brushing against her skin, amplifying the delicious sense of exposure.

Each “thank you” and polite smile was laced with the secret she carried—the memory of your hands gripping her waist, your lips trailing over her neck, the way her body had clung to yours in the cramped lavatory. Her heart raced as the passengers filed past, oblivious to the intimate connection she now carried. The sensation of your lingering presence made her hyper-aware of every subtle shift in her body, each movement a vivid reminder of what had transpired.

Finally, the last passenger stepped off the plane, leaving the cabin quiet save for the soft shuffle of the crew tidying up. Haewon exhaled deeply, a faint sheen of sweat glistening at her brow as she leaned briefly against the wall to steady herself. Her knees still felt weak, her legs trembling slightly beneath her polished composure. She pressed her thighs together, trying in vain to quell the sensation that only seemed to grow stronger in the silence.

You approached her then, your expression calm and professional as always, though the teasing glint in your eyes spoke volumes. As you drew nearer, Haewon’s breath hitched slightly, her body betraying her despite her best efforts to appear composed. The memory of your touch, of the closeness you had shared, was written in every glance, every subtle tilt of your head.

“You did great,” you murmured, your voice pitched low, meant only for her. The rich timbre of it sent a fresh shiver coursing through her. “Though I couldn’t help but notice that extra sway in your step.”

She turned to you with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief despite the warmth creeping into her cheeks. “It’s a bit hard to focus,” she replied, her tone laced with sultry teasing, “when I’m walking around with a little… souvenir from my favorite instructor.”

Your grin deepened, the heat behind your gaze barely masked by your composure. Leaning in slightly, your breath ghosted over her ear, warm and intoxicating. “You’ll have to come back for more lessons sometime,” you whispered, your words curling through her like a spark igniting.

“Oh, I plan to,” she said smoothly, her voice steady despite the fluttering excitement in her chest. Turning away, her hips swayed ever so slightly, a calculated movement that let you know she was fully aware of your lingering gaze.

The conclusion of the episode approached, and Haewon effortlessly shifted back into her on-camera persona. Her radiant smile lit up the space as the crew positioned the camera for her signature closing moment. It was time for her to receive her payment for completing the challenge.

You stepped into frame, handing her a sleek black envelope. The thick paper was cool against her fingers, and as they brushed yours in a fleeting but electric touch, her pulse quickened. Your eyes locked with hers briefly, and the subtle curve of your lips—a barely-there smile—made her heart skip a beat. It was a silent reminder of the secret only the two of you shared.

Turning to the camera with her usual playful grin, Haewon slipped her fingers into the envelope, preparing to retrieve her reward. But as her hand delved inside, her breath caught for just a fraction of a second. Alongside the crisp weight of folded bills was something soft and unmistakable: her panties. Still damp, intimate, and undeniably deliberate.

As she pulled the panties slightly closer, the faint but unmistakable scent of the money mingled with hers, wafting subtly into her senses. The blend of clean linen bills and the warm, musky reminder of her own arousal sent a fresh wave of heat racing through her. Her eyes flicked briefly toward you, catching the faintest curve of your lips, the smallest glint of mischief in your gaze.

She noticed, stuck to the crotch of the fabric, a small sticky note that had absorbed some of her arousal. The faint ink of your handwriting was still visible, the note bearing nothing more than your phone number. Her cheeks flushed deeper, the intimate touch making her heart race, though her composure didn’t falter. With a practiced ease, she slipped the envelope—and its contents—into her pocket, her movements fluid and confident.

“Well, this was definitely the most fun I’ve ever had earning my paycheck,” she quipped to the camera, her voice steady even as her pulse raced.

The crew chuckled at her lighthearted remark, none the wiser to the true weight of her words. She turned back to the camera for her final moment, flashing a grin that was equal parts charm and mischief. “Looks like I’ve learned more than just safety procedures on this flight,” she said with a laugh, her delivery flawless, leaving the audience to wonder what secrets lay behind her words.

As the crew called a wrap, Haewon turned, stepping gracefully down the aisle and off the plane. Her pace was poised, her smile intact, but inside, her mind was a whirlwind. Every subtle movement reminded her of your hands, your breath, and the fire that had burned between you in the cramped lavatory.

Each step was a vivid reminder, the absence of her panties adding to the thrill as the sensation of your essence still inside her teased her with every bow and motion. She could feel it shift subtly, a lingering heat that made her cheeks burn and her chest tighten with the memory of your closeness.

As she descended the jet bridge, she slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric tucked alongside the envelope. Her fingertips grazed the sticky note, the faint smudges of her arousal making it more intimate than you likely intended. A rush of heat coursed through her at the tangible proof of your connection. She withdrew her hand, carefully adjusting her uniform as she glanced around to ensure no one was watching.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted you off-camera, leaning casually against the cabin doorway. Your calm demeanor belied the glint of mischief in your gaze. When her eyes met yours, you gave her a subtle wink—a fleeting gesture that sent her heart racing all over again.

Once she was alone in a quiet corner of the terminal, Haewon exhaled deeply, her thoughts still spinning from everything that had happened. She glanced around to ensure she had privacy before stepping into a staff lounge to change out of her uniform.

Peeling off the polished exterior of her flight attendant persona, she let the neatly pressed pieces fall away, leaving her bare under the soft light of the room. Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, her cheeks still flushed, her hair slightly tousled. As she stared at herself, a glimmer of boldness sparked in her mind, her heart pounding at the thought that took hold.

Her fingers brushed over the scarf that still hung around her neck, the same one you had adjusted for her earlier. Loosening it slightly, she let the ends drape down over her chest, framing her bare skin in a way that felt both daring and intimate. The soft fabric teased the curves of her breasts and the line of her hips. The undone scarf added an air of playful confidence, the perfect balance of teasing and boldness.

Reaching for her phone, she pulled out the sticky note with your number, her lips curving into a small smile. Entering the digits carefully, she paused for a moment, considering what to name the contact. After a brief flicker of thought, she added: ✈️🥵.

Lifting her phone, she angled herself in the mirror, capturing every detail. The undone scarf hung loosely on both sides of her neck, framing the faint marks you’d left on her delicate skin. Her bare shoulders, the curve of her waist, and the contours of her breasts and lower section were bathed in the soft light of the room. Her expression tied it all together—a sultry, mischievous smile, her gaze filled with an undeniable spark of boldness.

Her heart raced as she typed out a message.

See you soon

She hit send and let the thrill of what she’d done wash over her. With a deep breath, she reached for a soft hoodie from her bag. Pulling it over her head, she felt the fabric settle against her skin. Tugging the hood up, she let it fall around her face, a subtle shield for the marks on her neck.

Satisfied that her secret was safely hidden, she took one last look in the mirror. Her reflection, now casual and relaxed, masked the fire still smoldering beneath the surface.

As she stepped out of the lounge, her strides were steady, every step carrying a sense of empowerment. When she exited into the warm afternoon air, she smiled to herself. The message had been sent, the connection made. Whatever came next, she was ready.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “IS IT NEW YEAR’S YET, I’M GETTIN’ BORED, SO CAN WE SKIP AHEAD?” ── .✦. ( a drabble of celebrating with batboys new years with batboys !! )

a/n: it’s 2025 oml, this year has been filled with ups and downs and many tears, many smiles, I wish that I live longer enough to enough plenty of years in peace, for 2025 my New Year’s resolution is to expand my interests && meet new people and friends and to be kind, understandable, happy, and positive and poetic !! Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick insists on going out for New Year’s Eve. He loves the energy of the city and wants to celebrate with you in style.

He takes you to a rooftop party with the best view of Gotham’s fireworks. He’s that guy pulling you onto the dance floor and spinning you around until your cheeks hurt from smiling.

When the countdown begins, he gets super excited, holding your hands and hyping up the moment like, “This is it! Best year yet, babe!”, “it’s just new years dick calm down.”

At midnight, he gives you a movie-worthy kiss, dipping you slightly for dramatic effect.

After the party, you both grab late-night street food and walk around the city, talking about your hopes for the new year.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason prefers a quieter New Year’s Eve at home, but he doesn’t mind doing something small if it makes you happy.

He sets up a cozy evening with your favorite snacks, drinks, and a movie marathon. “This is better than overpriced parties and sweaty crowds, right?”

As the clock nears midnight, he’ll make a sarcastic comment like, “Think 2025 will be the year Gotham finally gets its act together?”

At midnight, he gives you a sweet kiss and mumbles, “Here’s to another year of putting up with me.

If you want to do something fun, he might take you to a rooftop to watch fireworks. He holds you close and pretends it’s just for warmth, but he’s smiling the whole time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s ideal New Year’s involves a mix of productivity and relaxation. He plans a cute night in where you can both reflect on the past year and set goals for the new one.

He buys a journal or a vision board for the two of you to fill out together. “Okay, what’s your most unrealistic goal for this year? Let’s make it happen.”

He struggles to stay awake as midnight approaches, though. You catch him dozing off during a movie, and he grumbles when you wake him. “I’m not asleep I’m resting my eyes.”

At midnight, he kisses you softly and murmurs, “Thanks for making this year better.”

If you want to go out, he’ll humor you with a cute date to a low-key café or a small gathering with friends.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian treats New Year’s as a time to improve himself. He’s not into big parties, but he’ll indulge your preferences to make you happy.

If you want to stay in, he sets up a fancy dinner for the two of you with candles and elegant dishes he helped Alfred prepare. “We’ll celebrate properly, without the chaos.”

He rolls his eyes at New Year’s resolutions but secretly sets a few for himself, especially involving you. “Fine. I resolve to… be more patient with you.” (You tease him for that.)

At midnight, he gives you a shy but heartfelt kiss and says, “I’m glad you’re in my life this year.”

If you convince him to watch fireworks, he’ll grumble about the noise but eventually relaxes when you lean against him.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes New Year’s a classy affair. He takes you to a gala or hosts an elegant party at Wayne Manor.

He’s by your side the whole night, introducing you to important guests and making sure you feel like the most important person in the room.

At midnight, he’ll find a quiet corner to steal a private moment with you, giving you a soft, lingering kiss and whispering, “Thank you for making this year so much brighter.”

If you prefer something low-key, he’ll cancel all plans and spend the evening with you at home. You’ll share champagne by the fire, reminiscing about the past year.

He’s the type to surprise you with a meaningful gift at the stroke of midnight, like a bracelet engraved with the date or a key to the Manor if you don’t already live there.

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo Drabbles ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 028 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Implied Yandere Jinwoo, suggestive end <3]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Jealous. Jealous Jealous. ] ¡! ❞

What kind of rage is more terrifying than one that is being displayed in the open like a volcanic eruption? 

The type that is silent.

The kind of rage akin to that of a blazing flame that sits beneath calm serene water free of ripples. The kind of fury hidden inside a doll that has been abused and thrown by its own, developing a curse within it’s porcelain glass that is pristine and free of cracks

That was the kind of rage Jinwoo holds beneath his expressionless exterior.

Though his empty grey orbs displayed nothing, there was an undesirable wish to set everything ablaze. To bathe this glorious ballroom in brilliant dancing embers.

Oh but he had to hold back. 

He has to.

After all, his beloved is currently attending as a plus-one in this small gathering of hunters and celebrities alike are present. Jinwoo never really thought much of it, he invited you since for one; you are his lover. Two; he wanted to show you off to the world.

Sure, you could say that he’s doing that just to prove to everyone that he loves you more than anything or to perhaps end the rumours that he is secretly dating famous actresses or some rich girl or someone else. But all those things came in second really. His real priority was to see you dressed up pretty.

Of course, you’re always been pretty in Jinwoo’s eyes. Your figure dressed in an outfit that accentuates your beautiful body. Meek but elegant jewellery on your ears and most importantly— Your pretty face gleaming underneath the brilliant lights in this ballroom. The golden glow on your face just made you more endearing.

You are the apple of Jinwoo’s eyes.

But ah… You two aren’t alone in this little gathering.

People kept approaching you. At first, it was merely small talk and greetings. Nothing really wrong with that. But Jinwoo was perceptive. Too perceptive.

He knew how men do their things, he isn’t that stupid since he is one himself.

He could see the way those grimy bastards flashed you their charming smiles. How their hands were twitching to rub their digits over your skin that only he is allowed to ever touch.

Ah… Jinwoo could feel his head about to burst the more he watches the men flock over you for your favour.

He tried to stay calm really, but the more the seconds ticked by, the more he watched them try to woo you over— He wanted to call over his children and maul them over to death.

Jinwoo stayed in his spot, with hazy grey orbs so far gone in the stirring rage brewing within his stiff body.

The moment he spots someone about to land a palm on your lovely waist— Jinwoo charges forward and stops the hand. His hazy grey orbs now glowing with a terrifying hue of purple.

“Well aren’t you having a good time?” Jinwoo says with his low voice, warning and daring the bastard to do something. 

The man stiffened, paling at the up-close sight of the shadow monarch that is craving to put an end to his life right then and there. Jinwoo has the look that could kill, even his eyes can be enough to put your 6-feet under.

As Jinwoo roughly let go of the man’s hand before wiping his palms and then extending it towards you. 

Of course, you obediently take his palm. The moment he felt your skin, Jinwoo flicked his head to the host and said; “It’s late, my lover is not a fan of staying up late at night. We’ll be on our way now”

Without even batting an eye back to the crowd that froze due to his ministrations.

Jinwoo would have been calm when you both arrived home. But you kept talking about the famous celebrities who  were polite to you. The way you smiled was endearing but irritating at the same time because someone else is causing you to make such a pretty expression.

You didn’t even stop even as you both arrived in your bedroom. 

Eventually, Jinwoo would lose his patience and there would be a visible shift in his eyes.

Eyes had always been mirrors to the soul, and Jinwoo for one— Had especially expressive ones. His blank face may be devoid of anything but his eyes would always manage to show what he really feels.

The way his grey orbs are sweeping over you right now, it was dominating. It was as if Jinwoo was holding back a destructive dam, threatening to swallow him whole and then bursting.

“So, you find that Mr. Cheong is charming?” Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, putting one step in front of the other— Causing you to step back with the sudden overwhelming feel of Jinwoo’s shift in his demeanour. “You seem so entranced by his gentle and witty personality, in contrast to me, who is gloomy and awkward.”

You end up stumbling backwards, sitting down on the chair behind you and Jinwoo leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of the armchairs— Caging you down as he cocks up an eyebrow, teasing you to answer him.

“Hm?” Jinwoo muses, lifting his hand out to touch your hand— Making you all the more flustered and confused at his actions. “Maybe I should start reminding you some stuff, baby. Your memory has gotten a bit… Foggy.”

He mumbles, lifting your hand up to his lips and kissing your palm, then your knuckles, then to each digit before his gaze swept up to you again. Those intense, grey eyes, boring into your very soul— Piercing every cell in your very being. It was hypnotising, as if you were a snake being seduced by the sounds of a wind instrument.

The way he was hovering above your head, those ebony black locks of his falling forward as he hovered right above you— You could feel tingles starting from the very soles of your feet rising to your very heart that was already thumping so madly.

Oh you knew, you knew,.. you’re in for one hell of a marathon with the monarch.

“I won’t promise I’ll be gentle, and neither will I promise this punishment will only take one night”

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[angelicwh1spers]

— ⋅˚₊‧ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍’ 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 ‧₊˚ ⋅ —

𝐈n 𝐜onclusion… Matt has had enough of your teasing during a New Year’s party, so he fucks you inside of the bathroom into the new year.

𝐖arnings… [ SMUT ] , p in v , unprotected sex , dirty talk , dom!matthew , bathroom sex , ?kinda-public sex? & other sexual content contained inside!

⚠︎ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒 - English is not my first language so excuse and dismiss any minor mistakes in my writing, I’m fairly new to writing on tumblr but it’s always been my passion to create stories and envelop myself inside of the world of fiction.

⟡ ݁₊ 𝐀fter another year passes by before you could fully register it, today was the day where you would step into the new year with Matthew by your side, your boyfriend of three years now going on four. You were lucky to have found such an amazing partner, whenever you would look at him two fires would ignite inside of your body, one being appreciation and the other being desire. Tonight you were invited to a big New Year’s party hosted by one of your friends and as a plus one, you were of course going to take your boyfriend alongside with you, starting the new year without him wouldn’t sit right within you.

You wore one of your expensive elegant black dresses, the ones you only wore for any special occasions and tonight one of them fell on this day, new years can be exciting but also stressful with all of the resolutions and plans for the new year can get overwhelming but with time you were able to stabilize your emotions and stay calm whenever the coursing thoughts stirred inside of your mind. Your long hair cascaded over your shoulders, enhancing your facial features and beautiful eyes people could stare hours into, including Matthew, you often would catch him staring but always dismissed it as the emotions it brought felt nice to experience.

Both of you soon arrived to the party, flickering lights and heavy music could be heard coming from inside of the building Matt parked infront of, he got out of the car and quickly made his way over to the other side where you were sitting and opened the door for you to which you giggled and grabbed his already extended hand, ascending up the staircase and through the front door, walking right into the chaos of the party, tonight you made it your mission to look your best so you could walk into the new year with your head held high and priorities straight, but little did you know tonight you would not be doing any of those things but rather be doing the complete opposite…

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Matt’s hands had a tight grip on your plush thighs as the sound of moans and skin to skin contain echoed through the small room of the bathroom while hints of faint music occupied the background noise while you’re bend over the marble counter of the sink, immense pleasure courses through your veins as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, your soft moans intensify with each moment spent in such position. “You like that, huh? Been such a bad little girl, teasin’ me infront of everyone in that slutty fuckin’ dress.” Matt whispers between pants in a seductive tone, delivering you more pleasure as your walls pulsated around his think length driving in and out of you faster than you could think in that moment, the only answer you could provide was a muffled hum of agreement as it was immediately silenced by a soft whimper escaping past your lips.

Matt slows down his pace for a minute, you immediately feeling the outcome of it as your pleasure begins to calm down as he leans his head down to whisper into your ear. “Use your words or I’ll have to stop ma, m’kay?” “Y-yeah, please don’t stop, need more of you inside..” you whine, wiggling your hips against his as you start to get desperate for more friction. Just as you speak up, his pace returns to the previous one and immediately bring you back to the level of ecstasy and desire flowing thought your body, soon enough you feel your tight walls clenching down on to him, sucking him even deeper inside of you. He takes notice of this and detaches one of his hands from your hip, both of his hands taking different positions now, one pressing down on the small of your back and the other trailing down to rest between your thighs, his thumb coming up to press down on my pulsating clit, only driving me closer over the edge.

“Matt, i’m gonna c-cum..” you moan out, drawing out his name as he starts to also feel close to the edge, a knot slowly building up inside of your stomach as Matt increases his already fast pace, loud yells can be heard from behind the door as the countdown till the new year starts, Matt notices and slows down again before whispering, “Hold it for me, ma. Wanna cum together in the new year, yeah?” You nod your head positively before the countdown starts. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, when it reaches half of the time Matt immediately speeds up as the know inside of your stomach intensifies, 4, 3, 2, 1… and with the last digit being drawn out, the knot bursts as Matt’s seed paints your tight walls, mixing together with your own juices as your body lays down limp on the counter, heavy pants merging together with the tense air surrounding you both, “Gotta clean up this drippin’ pussy now, wouldnt want anyone seein’ you so fucked out the first day of the new year now, would you?”



— 🩵 𝐓aglist

• @sweetshuga @giveheavensomehell @delilahsturniolo …

⋅˚₊‧ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒... this is my first fic written on here so if you guys read it please give me any kind of feedback and tell me your thoughts on it, I’m so excited to start my journey on here and thanks everyone for the likes and compliments !!

[caitlynsrighteye]

Walk with me, caitlyn and fem!reader at a gala celebrating who knows what, cait is in a beautiful suit that fits her sooo well and the women at the party can't stop staring. Before the conflict with noxus she already had several women falling at her feet, but after the war? well, I suppose the status of hero of piltover is quite attractive. Anyway, these women are whispering how hot cait is, circling her like a flock of vultures and practically undressing her with their eyes and reader, feeling jealous, just says "yes, MY wife is very hot, thanks for pointing it out" and no one has the courage to remind her that she and cait are girlfriends, not married

Sorr if it is a little bit confuse, english is not my language so i'm using google translate

SO CUTTEEE HOLD ON💍👈😝 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏾‍♀️

Gala engagement

Caitlyn Kiramman x reader

Contains: wlw, fluff, jealous!fem!reader, amused Caitlyn, s2!cait, after the war with Noxus, established relationship

wc: 1.2k

Masterlist

“Baby come here, your jacket’s crooked,” Caitlyn peeks down at her chest before stepping towards you. Your fingers grab the collar of her sleek navy blue blazer, adjusting, and folding it down neatly. Fixing the knot of her tie and patting down her torso to even out any wrinkles.

While your hands work, her blue eye stares. She watches as you fix her suit, one that she had gotten tailored to fit her lengthy form perfectly. It hugged her curves and defined her slim waist, and the Kiramman crest was stitched on the cuffs of her sleeves and the folds of her jacket. The sight caused a buckle in your knees and your teeth to nip your bottom lip. Once you’ve finished helping her, your gaze darts up, meeting hers.

You look deeply into her uninjured eye. Her other is behind a soft eyepatch protecting the wound. She leans in, your palms still on her chest as her lips meet with yours, glossy and soft.

After another peck, you both pull away. A comfortable silence between you two as you stare at each other’s cleaned up form. Tonight, her and her father were hosting a gala. Not their usual ones filled with champagne and rich laughter of wealthy aristocrats.

No. Tonight, Caitlyn is officially announcing her role as head of the Kiramman name. Taking up the responsibility of her mother's leadership role, but not her seat on the council.

It has been a few months since the battle with Noxus. Her scars are still healing. You look over every cut and scarred skin along her face, standing higher on your toes to place a soft peck on each mark.

She closes her eye, hands on your waist to balance you, sighing into your soothing touches.

You wore only your best dress, one that matched Caitlyn’s. Strapless, yet modest. Neck and wrists covered in jewelry, gifts from your loving girlfriend who spoils you like a Goddess. 

“You’re stunning as always,” she says, soft enough for only you to hear, even though you both were secluded in the privacy of her room in the Kiramman manor. “And you are… distracted, my love. Can’t even fix your own suit?” You tease. “Apologies, darling, you know I hate going to these galas.”

You raise your hand to hold her cheek, and the tip of your thumb gently caresses the bottom seam of her eyepatch.

The tall woman taps her fingers nervously on the sides of your hips, feeling the fancy pattern woven into the corset part of your elegant gown.

"Tonight is about you. Everyone is here to celebrate our victory against Noxus..." You press your forhead to hers while your hands hold onto her fidgeting ones, hoping it'll calm her nerves. "To acknowledge your bravery and heroism, Caitlyn."

Her glare that was once on her shoes rose to meet yours, bouncing between both of your eyes, trying to figure out which orb to focus on more.

For what feel like a long moment, yet you wouldn't mind staying like that forever, you eventually give her one passionate kiss before parting. You look towards a clock hanging on her wall. "We should go before your father gets overwhelmed, entertaining the guests on his own."

She flashes a smile, one where her tooth gap shows. A quick nod to her head before interlinking her arm with yours, guiding you to the event wing of the manor.

Upon arriving, the space was piled with Piltover and Zaunite civilians, enjoying the sweet melody of a pianist playing on an expensive piano. All guests enjoy champagne while conversing amongst each other.

You find Tobias, Caitlyn's father, who was mid conversation with a group of other weathy men.

He spots you both approaching, and you immediately greet him with a polite gesture, a hug with a kiss to his bearded cheek. A gesture that won the hearts of her parents when they first met you.

Caitlyn does the same to her father. "Yes, yes, this is my daughter, Caitlyn," he pulls her closer to introduce her to these seemingly powerful looking businessmen. "Ah, the Sheriff, your father speaks very well of you. Along with the rest of Piltover. We were wondering if you'd be interested-."

You nodded off, whispering to your navy-haired partner quickly that you grab some drinks while they talk about some deal you had no business with.

A table of beverages and gourmet foods is where you pondered off to. You grab a couple of glasses of champagne for yourself and Caitlyn. Taking a few sips of the light colored liquid, you hear a few mutters just a bit further down the table.

Taking the glass away from your lips to peer at the small group.

Women, maybe around your age, all giggling and blushing in their gala dresses. Doe-eyeing someone across the room. You paid no mind till you heard one of them say, "Gods, she's so handsome."

The other two chuckle with their hands hovering over their mouths. "Piltover's finest war hero," she bites her lips, seems to be glancing up and down from a distance. "I heard she's the Sheriff now-" one lady interrupts her, "Oh, she can come arrest me."

Steam practically fumed out your ears. With the glasses still in your hands, you storm over to the group.

Right behind them, you put on your best fraudulent smile that you needed to blind them with. Fixing your posture into a confident demeanor that made you seem clueless, yet possessive.

You clear your throat, getting the attention of the woman. "Oh, my wife? Yes, she's very hot. Thanks for pointing that out."

Oh, they saw a physical depiction of your emotions floating behind you. A dark, angry spirit ready to pounce on them as you smiled with squinted eyes. They embarrassingly and fearfully shuffled away from you, disappearing into the crowd of guests.

You blow a loose strand of hair from your face. Content with the reactions you received from them.

"Wife, huh? Last I checked, we were just girlfriends," You looked behind you and turned in the direction where your gorgeous navy suited, tall lover stood. You look off to the side to huff a small chuckle before looking back at her.

"We better fix that. I want a ring right now, or else I'll have to duel those women for you," you tease, handing her the glass of champagne you had grabbed just for her.

She takes a sip before lowering it down. Her free hand came up to swirl a finger around the tip of the glass. "There wouldn't be any competition," her stare leaves the glass in her hand and towards you where she admired the face she's fallen in love with, yours.

She steps to your side, reaching a hand to hold the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

"Well then, what would this pretty lady want for a ring? Diamonds? A custom engraving?"

You were stunned, yet falling head over heels once again, like you've done many times before when it came to Caitlyn and her sweet words, that knew how to make your heart race in a second.

"Anything, as long as it comes with you forever," you both looked disgustingly cute to the naked eye. Faces so close your noses nuzzled together, lips barely grazing.

In one swift movement, Caitlyn tips you over plants a long, passionate kiss to the delicious pads of your mouth. One of your legs flew up as she kissed you. Your glasses clank together when they make contact.

You knew you had Caitlyn Kiramman from the start. She was in love with you and needed nobody else, but you by her side. Forever, till death do you part.

Note: Thank you for another amazing request! I hope I wrote what you were expecting :)

I love executing replies and am glad you trust me writing what you ask for. Hope you enjoyed it and have a wonderful day♡

[brittle-doughie]

Well since you missed it, I’m gonna tell you my ask again and I hope you actually see it this time. Again, it’s a long one so it might need to be split up into multiple parts. (It also contains cannibalism so CW) Here’s an Idea for a Y/N Cookie Run fic. Y/N is a viscous, cannibalistic cookie with a sadistic, psychotic, and murderous, yet also elegant, (they not like an animal), personality. They are based of the Bloody Mary cocktail (but their name is, like, Tomato Juice Cookie because alcohol isn’t allowed to be mentioned in the word of Cookie run) and their design motif is based of of the Bloody Mary urban legend with a hint of evil spirits and vampirism. They are extremely strong in both physical strength and magic, so powerful that even the ancient cookies and Cookies of Darkness are at least somewhat intimidated by them, and are able to brainwash other cookies with their magic into becoming cannibals just like them (although a bit more brutal and messy because it entertains Y/N) and do their bidding. Y/N often likes to play with (aka torcher) their “food” before preparing and eating it.

Y/N part of the juice bar gang (which they have also hypnotized). They live in a huge, luxurious, yet somewhat decrepit old mansion, which they lure other cookies into before they torcher and consume them. Y/N’s other hobbies include painting and cooking (which is how they “prepare” their victims, they are quite sophisticated).

They used to be a witch (called Mary, of course) who ate children even after said act was considered taboo in the witch community. They were eventually were executed for their crimes via beheading. Before they died, they used their magic to come back as a cookie were they decided that “if I’m only allowed to feed on cookies and not human children, so be it😏”

I know it’s pretty long, you’ll probably have to split it into multiple parts. I hope you actually notice this one this time.

this ask was inspired by multiple Cookie Run cannibalism fanfics.

Tale of the Mansion

There lives a tale of a lonesome cookie, living in the hallways of the abandoned, yet glorious mansion on the hill. They say that on certain nights, you’ll hear the humming of this cookie on one of their nightly strolls, it is advised that you do not listen intently or you might find yourself being drawn to it.

The victim will feel their legs moving on their own before they realized, no hope to stop it now. Their mind will be entranced from this cookie’s elegant humming, a tune that non can resist. Fortunately for this cookie, this is what exactly they wanted to happen. It never hurts to have a companion on your walks, right?

Yet the legend tales that any cookie that follows this humming are not expected to return. Many cookies in the village keep their doors and windows closed for this reason, it wasn’t rare for this mysterious cookie to walk into town as an alternate path in their nightly stroll.

“Y/N Cookie (or Tomato Juice Cookie)…” was all one victim muttered before they followed them one night, this is all the village knew of their mysterious, yet terrifying visitor.

Maybe you do make it. You get to see the mansion in all of its pristine glory, the floors and tables looking freshly cleaned despite being abandoned for a long time. This cookie will ask you to sit and help yourself to the prepared food made for any visitors of their mansion. Do not worry if any of the food has an..odd texture to it, that’s just your mind letting you know that you’re quite hungry!

Do enjoy a refreshment from one of the mansion staff, Sparkling Cookie. He serves you a glass of sparkling refreshment as he leaned close to pour it into the cup, showing something…off with his eyes. They look…empty, don’t you think?

But don’t dwell on that for too long, it’s time for the entertainment as your host snaps their fingers and out comes Mint Choco Cookie playing a tune on their violin, it helps to calm your nerves from any sort of suspicious feeling! Just enough for you to not notice his empty eyes too…

Still anxious? Have no worry. The mansion’s green thumb, Herb Cookie, is here to help with that by smelling his plants! Doesn’t the fresh smell of recently planted greens help to settle you down? Good, because he won’t stop until you are! There’s nothing to worry about, you’re in the care of such a generous and wonderful host! They promise there’s nothing to be afraid of!

You excuse yourself to the restroom, which is directed to you down the hall. You slowly make your way over, getting unnerved by any small sound the mansion made.

A door creaking catches your eye, an ominous red light pouring out of the crack….

You’re tempted to go in, curiosity mixed with fear as you slowly poked your head into the room, it looked like a simple bedroom…curiosity eats at you and you enter the room fully….

You’ll come to regret it seconds later….

The paintings were the first thing you noticed. They painted many different cookies, some with normal expressions like a smile or a resting face. Others…painted more fearful and pained expressions, their heads looked like they were…removed from their bodies….It may have been the room light, but you swore the paintings dripped a little from their frames, as if it was…strawberry jam…

The numerous items like a spellbook, a witch hat, pitchforks, even a sort of..bathtub with a…substance nearly at the top.

The large painting above the painting. It was not a cookie featured in it, but rather…a witch. They oddly bared a resemblance to your host from earlier…

“Looks like another found out, huh? You really should’ve just went to do your business.”

You jump at the shockingly casual voice from behind you. Leaning at the doorway was Vampire Cookie, as he gently tip his glass of juice around and around.

“Y/N Cookie doesn’t like cookies that poke their eyes where they don’t belong. Good for them, just means dinner is server sooner then later…”

Vampire Cookie opens his eyes, revealing the same empty look as the others. You now could see Herb, Sparkling, and Mint Choco at the doorway too, their pinprick white irises creepily glowing in the dark. You step back away from them, asking what Vampire meant by that….

“You’ll see…or rather what you’ll don’t see..

You suddenly felt a sharp jab to your neck. A voice from behind you calls.

“A shame it had to end this way for you. I promise your dough won’t go to waste. Enjoy your rest here, because you won’t be waking up anytime soon…”

Your vision fades to black as you collapse, the many eyes at the doorway looking at you as the world plunged to darkness….

….

….

Another missing cookie reported in the village.

All the residents could do was honor their memory with a burial without a body and warn others with the tale of the mansion on the hill.

Whatever you do, do not listen to the humming to the forest or in the village late at night. For it will be a night that will never dawn for you…

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

What is this feeling? p.2

Heyy guys, here's part 2, if you've missed part 1 here it is.

I need your opinions, I thought of doing Max x Reader x Charles but I just love Reader x Max, do you want me to add Charles to the mix or keep it simple with Max??

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the Monaco skyline in a golden hue as Kelly adjusted her hair for the third time that evening. She smoothed her dress and waited impatiently by the terrace where Max stood, casually leaning against the railing, scrolling through his phone.

"Max," she started, voice tinged with nervous excitement. "I was thinking, there's a party tonight. Charles is hosting, and it's going to be incredible. You should come."

Max looked up, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint, polite smile. "Oh, yeah? Charles does throw good parties," he said noncommittally, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Kelly’s heart raced. "It would be fun," she pressed. "You and me, you know, we could—"

Max cut her off gently, though his tone was firm. "Why don’t you go with the other girls? Lily’s probably going, right?"

Kelly’s face fell for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. "Lily’s nice, but I was hoping—"

Max waved it off casually, already turning his attention elsewhere. "Lily’s great. She’s close with YN, isn’t she? You should invite both of them. It’ll make it more fun for everyone."

Kelly blinked, confused by the sudden mention of YN. "YN? I don’t think she’s into these things. She’s not really… a party person."

Max shrugged, playing it cool. "She might surprise you. Anyway, I’ve got to go, but you should ask her." He gave a quick nod and walked off, leaving Kelly fuming.

Later That Evening

Lily knocked on YN’s door with an unrelenting grin. "You’re coming," she declared, holding up a dress she had borrowed specifically for her.

YN looked up from her laptop, eyebrows raised. "To Charles’ party? You know I don’t do those things."

"Which is why you should do them," Lily countered, pushing past her and holding the dress up against her. "Come on, when was the last time you let loose? Charles invited you, Max will be there, and… wait, do I really need to keep listing reasons?"

YN rolled her eyes. "Max is always there. What’s the big deal?"

Lily smirked knowingly but didn’t press. "Just come. It’ll be fun. And if it’s awful, you can leave early. Deal?"

The party was already in full swing by the time YN arrived with Lily. Music spilled out of Charles’ party, and the atmosphere buzzed with energy. YN adjusted the hem of her dress, already second-guessing her decision to come.

As they stepped inside, heads turned. YN rarely made appearances at events like these, and the surprise on everyone’s face was almost comical. Kelly, sipping her drink at the bar, narrowed her eyes when she saw Max’s reaction.

He was talking to Charles, his usual calm demeanor replaced with something more alert as his gaze followed YN across the room. Charles noticed immediately and smirked, nudging him.

“Well, look who decided to join the living,” Charles teased, striding over to greet her with his signature grin.

“You can thank Lily for that,” YN replied, her eyes scanning the room. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Probably convincing Alex to dance,” Charles said with a laugh. “Speaking of which—Max!”

Max looked up from his drink, his expression unreadable as Charles waved him over.

“Come dance with us,” Charles said, looping an arm around YN’s shoulders.

“I don’t dance,” Max said flatly, though his gaze lingered on YN for a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re so boring,” Charles teased before turning to YN. “Then it’s just you and me.”

Before YN could protest, Charles pulled her onto the dance floor, twirling her in a way that was equal parts elegant and playful. She couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of her usual guardedness slipping away under the pulsating lights.

As the song shifted into something slower, Charles spun her one last time before stepping back with a wink. “Your turn, Max.”

“What?” Max looked genuinely annoyed, but Charles had already slipped away, leaving YN and Max standing awkwardly in the center of the dance floor.

“You don’t have to—” YN started, but Max surprised her by stepping closer.

“I’m already here,” he muttered, offering his hand.

Cautiously, YN took it, and Max led her into a slow sway. It wasn’t graceful or practiced, but there was something grounding about the way they moved together, surrounded by chaos yet entirely focused on each other.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” YN said, her tone teasing but soft.

Max smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

Their eyes met briefly, and for the first time, the tension between them felt less like a wall and more like a bridge.

As the music picked up again, Max released her hand and stepped back. “Don’t let Charles drag you into too much trouble.”

YN raised an eyebrow. “And what about you?”

“I’ll manage,” Max said, turning toward the bar. But as he walked away, he couldn’t help glancing back at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The night stretched on with laughter, music, and a little more dancing. For the first time in a long while, YN felt like she wasn’t just an outsider in the paddock but part of something larger—something fun.

And as Max watched her laugh with Charles and Lily from across the room, he realized that maybe, just maybe, YN wasn’t as much of an enigma as he thought. She was just... herself. And somehow, that was enough to keep him intrigued.

Even if he’d never admit it out loud.

@justaf1girl, @anamiad00msday

[yaizastuff]

Hello! Could I request an Abbacchio x reader fic please? Where Abbacchio becomes jealous when a restaurant waiter keeps flirting with reader and he finally confesses his feelings to reader afterwards :) no worries if not! Thank you in advance :)

HEY ANON!! <33 OKAYYY I LOVE IT WE STARTING THIS PAGE CUTELY <333 Also pls don't pick on me because of my drawing, I been on a 7 months creativity block till yesterday 😭🙏hope you enjoy it <3

Bitter Wine

Abbacchio x Reader (SFW, Jealousy, some swearing)

Abbacchio has something really important to tell you, but It's having some difficulties.

The evening air in Napoles clung warm and lazy to your skin as you walked beside Abbacchio through the narrow, stone-lined streets. His coat swayed gently at his knees, shoulders straight, chin slightly lifted. He hadn’t told you much when he invited you out.

Just: “Be ready at seven. Wear something nice.”

So you did.

And now your pulse wouldn’t calm down.

His silence wasn’t cold—just... unreadable. The kind of quiet he carried when his thoughts were layered. He didn’t glance at you, but he walked close enough that his arm brushed yours every few steps. There was something deliberate in the space he didn’t allow.

“You’re not telling me where we’re going,” you said, half smiling.

He didn’t answer. Just gave a small, satisfied sound at the back of his throat, like the mystery pleased him.

You weren’t sure if this was a casual dinner or something else. He wasn’t exactly a bouquet-and-champagne kind of guy. Still, the attention he gave you when he asked—no, told—you to come along had stayed with you all day. He didn’t ask people lightly.

Soon, he stopped in front of a narrow, lantern-lit entrance with ivy curling around the sign. The scent of oregano and garlic drifted out from inside. The restaurant was small, elegant—intimate. You felt both underdressed and overdressed all at once.

The host greeted you in rapid Italian and led you to a corner table. You caught Abbacchio subtly scanning the room, always on alert. It wasn’t just about being careful. It was instinct. Still, he didn’t speak much after sitting. Just hummed low when you commented on the space. Let you fill the silence with your words.

And then the waiter arrived.

Young. Overconfident. Too polished. You barely noticed at first. But the second time he came by the table, he handed you the wine list with a lingering touch.

You let out an awkward laugh. Polite. Noncommittal. But something in the air shifted beside you. A heaviness.

Abbacchio said nothing. Didn’t look at the guy. Just raised a brow and sipped his wine.

The third time, the waiter placed your plate down and winked. “Una delizia per una delizia,” he said smoothly.

(A delight for a delight.)

This time, your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to say something—but before you could, you felt Abbacchio’s fingers curl slowly into the edge of the tablecloth.

You heard it then—low, almost like a growl, under his breath.

“Stronzo.”

(Asshole.)

Dinner passed in thickening silence. You chatted to ease it, tried to ignore how tightly he was wound. You weren’t sure what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t flirted. You’d barely spoken. But he was locked in, jaw clenched, posture still and sharp.

Every time the waiter passed by, his violet eyes tracked him like a hawk. And then—when the guy glanced at your chest mid-sentence—Abbacchio leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly, and muttered near his glass:

“Che cazzo guarda...”

(What the fuck is he looking at…)

It wasn't until dessert that everything broke.

The waiter placed a slice of tiramisù in front of you, leaned just a little too close, breath nearly brushing your temple. “Un dolce per una donna dolcissima... anche se già lo sai, vero?”

(A dessert for the sweetest woman… though I’m sure you already know that.)

Before your pulse could even respond—

Abbacchio stood.

The chair slid back, slow and ominous.

You turned to look at him, startled. His expression was unreadable, but there was steel behind his eyes. Controlled fury.

He walked around the table.

No words.

No theatrics.

He just stood beside the waiter.

And stared.

His jaw was tight, nostrils flaring just slightly. One gloved fist curled at his side.

“Vaffanculo,” he muttered almost silently, but the venom in it could cut glass.

(Go fuck yourself.)

The waiter’s fake charm cracked in an instant. His shoulders tensed. He swallowed. His smile fell.

And then—

Abbacchio turned to you.

And kissed you.

Hard.

There was no lead-up. No hesitation. Just the heat of his lips crushing yours, one gloved hand at the back of your neck. Possessive. Claiming. Fierce. Your breath caught—your eyes wide—but the part of you that had been waiting for something from him melted instantly.

He kissed like he meant to burn a line between you and everyone else.

He pulled back slowly, lips barely brushing yours as he breathed out through his nose. For a second, everything was still—the clatter of plates, the hum of low conversations, the clink of glass in the background—muted beneath the heavy drumbeat of your heart.

And then, without another word, Abbacchio turned.

He walked calmly back to his chair, as if nothing had happened—straightened the sleeves of his coat, sat down, and lifted his wine glass. No rush. No drama. Just the same cold elegance he always wore like a second skin.

He swirled the deep red liquid inside the glass and took a long sip. Then another.

You blinked.

Still breathless.

Still sitting where he’d left you, lips tingling, nerves wrecked. Your fork was still in your hand. The dessert untouched.

He finally set the glass down, pushed his chair back with quiet control, and stood again. With that same silent determination, he made his way to the counter and pulled out a folded bill from his coat. You watched him exchange a few words with the maître d’. Calm. Low. Unreadable.

Meanwhile, the waiter had completely vanished.

You sat there, stunned, with your heart somewhere in your throat, eyes wide, unsure whether to chase after him or just melt into your seat.

When he returned to the table, he didn’t say a word. Just held out a hand to you with a look that made your stomach twist all over again.

“Let’s go,” he said and you slowly stood up and walked out.

—

Outside, the air had cooled. The streets were quieter now, lit only by the occasional golden streetlamp.

You walked in silence.

Your heart was still racing.

Finally, you turned to him. “Abbacchio... why did you do that?”

He didn’t stop walking—but his voice was low and deliberate.

“Because I was done pretending it didn’t matter.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “Pretending what didn’t matter?”

He stopped then. Turned to face you fully.

“The way you look at me. The way I feel when someone else thinks they can speak to you like that. Like you’re free. Like you’re not already—”

He stopped himself, eyes dark.

“Already what?” you whispered.

He stepped closer, chest brushing yours.

“Mine.”

The word dropped heavy between you, serious and rough and undeniably sincere.

Your breath caught.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” he said quietly, voice grating low with restraint. “But I don’t do things halfway. If I touch you, I keep you. If I want you, I don’t stop. I don’t share. I don’t play games. You know who I am.”

You were stunned. Not because you didn’t feel the same—but because you had, for so long, and never believed he’d let it show.

“Say something,” he murmured, hand reaching to touch your cheek.

“I... I wanted you to kiss me since the day we met,” you whispered.

His lips curled faintly. “Finalmente,” he said.

(Finally.)

Then he kissed you again—slower this time. Surer. And with all the heat of a man who meant it.

---

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it 🫶😼 I would have loved to add some nsfw but If you don't ask, I don't add 🚬

[nymphbroadcast]

Heartslabyul x MC! like Rosie

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🌹⋆The Heartslabyul boys with a MC! or Yuu like Rosie.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🌹⋆ Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹FEM! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ 🌹⋆

⊹Clarifications: I changed the fact that MC! Rosie is a cannibal for obvious reasons and the age of the reader is not specified in case they want to interpret themselves as another species that is not human. I specify that MC! has great talent in the kitchen because Auntie Rosie really gives me THAT expert cook vibes.

⊹Rosie's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🌹⋆

• Rosie is a capable and articulate woman, quite gentle and friendly but no one knows if she is really honest, she is intelligent, patient, courteous, elegant and charming when interacting with others. She is especially kind and affectionate with those she considers her friends, she is very close to her group and is a very good and efficient leader, just as she is kind she can also be intimidating and authoritarian when she wants, her jokes can be somewhat old, which She is right with her taste for the old and old-fashioned, she is good at giving advice and can even offer to solve other people's problems herself, she is a kind host, giving her guests a place to sit and rest and offering to give them food before accepting listen to their problems and possibly offer help, however she also has her dark side, being someone very intelligent and astute, it is relatively easy for her to find people's weaknesses or virtues and manipulate them to her convenience. Among her tastes are cooking, old-fashioned music and meat, she is talented in areas such as cooking and music, especially in singing and charisma, and it is easy to get attached to her and her intelligence, deducing quick solutions to problems.

Riddle Rosehearts

🌹Riddle sees you as a kind of mother, the way you speak to him and see him proudly when he has an achievement makes his little heart feel warm with the maternal affection that he never really had.

🌹 You are his best advisor when he feels overwhelmed or stressed, your calm attitude helps him calm down and think with a cool head.

🌹 Your taste for old or outdated doesn't really bother him, in fact he finds it cute that you look like an ancient woman despite you're apparently being his age.

🌹 Riddle thanks you for calming down the uni-neural duo Adeuce's antics and keeping them calm at least for a while, before you has to be dragged with them into another problem.

🌹 Riddle probably didn't see many movies growing up and only saw a few with his mother, so he probably knows Mary Poppins and might find it curious how much you look like that old character.

🌹 Riddle loves your style and how you combine it with the aesthetics of his dorm, the red and pink colors with black in your elegant and sophisticated outfits remind him a lot of roses and in general of his dorm, along with your good education and good manners he thanks heaven (Crowley) that for once he doesn't have to deal with another troublemaker.

🌹 Due to his closed thinking, Riddle is glad that you like old music, because his mother used to listen to that type when he was younger and almost automatically he learned it by heart, so there are times when both of them do duets in private, singing songs that almost no one at school could recognize.

🌹 The first time he saw your imposing and somewhat... sadistic side... he was paralyzed, for the first time he saw you approach someone without your kind smile and instead it was a smile almost without emotions and as if you were about to eat someone alive (wink~ wink~), at that moment he swore never to turn you against him and even less to get you angry.

🌹 His tea parties are the best since you are present at them and accompany him, your conversations never bore him, whether it is a story of mischief with the duo Adeuce and Grimm or that you have heard some gossip from a student, you always have something what to tell him.

Ace Trappola

♥ YOU HAVE BEEN PROMOTED TO ACE'S UNOFFICIAL GODMOTHER-

♥ This boy is very prone to getting himself and the others around him into trouble, so luckily you are there to control his recklessness.

♥ When Ace is angry or frustrated, whether because of Riddle or because the basketball club lost a game, he comes to you to feel comforted and pampered. You are good at listening to all his complaints and watching him vent without feeling judged. (even if you almost never understand him, because he speaks too complicated and fast-)

♥ However, you always scold him and avoid his disasters when he act like a brat.

♥ Your taste for things that are old-fashioned and old makes him wonder if you are really his age, in addition to your strange way of speaking and your manners reminding him of the old ladies in his neighborhood, however he will never criticize you and instead he may ask you one thing or another joke about that.

♥ It must be said that Ace has quite a sweet tooth, but you managed to convince him to come to you and not to steal Riddle's pies, Ace would never admit out loud the fact that he feels like a spoiled child trying the delicacies you cook for him.

♥ Ace is tender when he wants to, he really likes being with you without doing anything because you tend to spoil him and take care of him. (ROSIE HAS A LOT OF A CUTE MOM VIBES)

♥ Just as Ace is a total idiot, you are a sweetheart of a person, no one knows how the hell you ended up with him and they start to think that Ace put a spell on you or something.

♥ Aside from your good taste and talent in food, Ace is a little disturbed by the fact that you sometimes make either desserts or meals in the shape of human body parts... in addition to your jokes about cannibalism.

♥ Ace admires how easy it is for everyone to like you, he would pay anything to have your talent... I mean, even Riddle adores you!... that may or may not include the fact that he takes advantage of some people 'cause they have you appreciated

♥ In short, he loves you, although sometimes you seem like an old cartoon character because of your personality and tastes, he loves you because you are his compass in his impulse of idiocy.

Deuce Spade

♠️ Deuce... Deuce... this poor boy is exploding with love, we all know this boy LOVES his mother and the fact that you are like one really takes him through the roof.

♠️ Oh your food! Add Deuce to your list of the most loyal (free) customers in all of Twisted Wonderland! this boy dies for your food! It will actually eat anything you give to him, even if he ends up rounder than a ball.

♠️ Oh yeah, you're definitely what he needs, pull his ear when he does something stupid! or reward him with your love when he achieves a goal! this man is at your feet.

♠️ Regarding your tastes... he doesn't really know what to think, on the one hand he finds the fact that you look like an old lady in the fashion of the time adorable and on the other hand it confuses him... How old did you say you were? Are you sure you weren't born in 1920?... oh don't be offended! It just means that you see a lot of those times! It's a compliment!

♠️ Oh I really think Deuce would learn some of your songs just from you, plus he probably knows them if his mother used to listen to them or if he shares tastes with you! I really think Deuce would be a gentleman, even looking at the ground 7/24 when dancing with you so as not to step on you.

♠️ He probably takes photos of you to send to his mother or something, he's really fascinated by how your style combines with your youth and elegance. PS: Mama Spade is already scheduling everything to meet you, lady!

♠️ Deuce really appreciates your advice and teachings, he has improved a lot since he applied them, from his grades to his social relationships, oh my god, this man is going to marry you as soon as you both graduate.

♠️ Deuce believes that you were really meant to be in Heartslabyul, your care with animals, how you don't fail a single Riddle rule and how you have such a motherly relationship with everyone... Deuce admires you the most, girl.

♠️ Deuce notices how you tend to prefer his manners, often jokingly comparing him to Ace and saying something like: "Oh Deuce, polite as always. Ace! You can learn something from him!" And there you have it, as red as Riddle's hair as he feels blessed by the gods to see you so comfortable with him.

♠️ However, you also take care of reminding him that not everyone is good, taking care of his naivety, reminding him that an action can sometimes be worth a thousand words. He thanks you.

♠️ In the end, Deuce realizes that you are perfect for him: Intelligent, wise, educated, friendly and so beautiful in his eyes. You can bet what you want, but this guy will ask you to marry him as soon as he can! Do us a favor and take care of him, this boy loves you very much!

Trey Clover

♣️ Oh boy... There's finally a mom to take care of the big brother of all Heartslabyul! Girl, please take care of this man...

♣️ I think we all know Trey's caring tendency with his teammates, in the end he is surprised when he realizes that you are trying to take care of him and advise him, because usually the one who assumes that role is usually him.

♣️ Sometimes you have to remind him that just like his peers, he is a teenager and should focus on enjoying his youth! The poor man is always taking care of others and forgets about himself :(

♣️ You and Trey are a cute duo, you both cook excellent and take care of others... Who knew you weren't married huh?

♣️ Your old style and taste for the old-fashioned is curious, in reality it doesn't bother him since it is your own style and good for you if it makes you happy.

♣️ It only takes a few minutes for him to realize your resemblance to certain old characters cough Mary Poppins cough... And your exotic way of speaking, I honestly doubt he's ever heard someone with your accent and idioms before aside from one or another old woman.

♣️ Couple's hobby! You two definitely cook together! He is splendid with desserts and you with the common dinner! especially meat!... Trey sometimes doesn't know whether to laugh or ask for help when you start making certain black jokes about human flesh... (That no one understands)

♣️ Trey is amused by your musical nature, you actually sing or hum old songs while you cook or do other things my goodness! He may even end up learning them by listening to you.

♣️ Oh god, take care of this man for us! He's so tired of being the one who takes care of him!... please don't hesitate to pull his ear when he tries to disobey out of mere habit-

Cater Diamond

♦️ TAKE NOTE: CATER IS TURNING YOU INTO A MAGICAME MODEL.

♦️ My God. Cater loves your aesthetic, you give him the most beautiful vintage and dark vibes that he can't resist taking photos of you and uploading them to Magicame. (with your permission.)

♦️ I don't think Cater will stop when it comes to teaching you about the technology, because even if you don't use it much you still agree to listen to him talk as much as he wants about it.

♦️ Let's say it, Cater is not really as we know him... And he tries to hide it, however you are always there to give him words of support and a sweet hug that takes him out of his turbulent mind.

♦️ Cater will definitely help you create content on networks if you access, cooking recipes, tips or pure photos with your aesthetic. Count on him!

♦️ Cater is amazed by your musical talent, although your voice may not be that of a modern singer who hits exaggerated notes, you know how to use your own voice and create a beautiful symphony and you can bet that Cater records it, even if it is just for him. (With your permission.)

♦️ Cater is already planning the wedding, he can already imagine you in a beautiful white dress with a "mermaid tail" skirt, a beautiful dress adorned with roses or white feathers, your beautiful smile that lights up her days... oh god, you have this man in your hands.

♦️ Cater loves your advice accompanied by a delicious meal or a simple cup of tea, Cater may not like sweets but you especially know how to make him eat some healthy sugar from time to time without making him feel disgusted or directly unable to swallow, now you're the Star chef of Heartslabyul. (Trey bakes the desserts)

♦️ Cater loves being with you, even if it's in silence or listening to your vintage music while you simply rest in each other's presence, this poor boy is tired and you are his comfort.

♦️ Congratulations, you have adopted five teenagers with emotional problems! Now you are the mother/godmother of Heartslabyul, they love you and you love them, please take care of them! and I recommend that you start charging Crowley for the therapy of these boys, because you're leaving NRC married with one of them.

Nymph's Note:

My life is crazy, I had a flood in my apartment due to the negligence of a plumber... you have no idea of ​​the chaos of things I currently live in, documents and clothes got wet, I have had to send many things to wash... Well, life goes on :), I finally managed to finish this one! Rosie really is one of my favorite characters, she's a beauty and I really feel like she fits like a glove with Heartslabyul.

I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Heartslabyul Dorm x MC! Like Rosie Done!

Siguiente: Savanaclaw Dorm x Reader like Carmila Carmine?

[zapreportsblog]

Hello! So I had this Poly!Volturi Knights x Reader idea

Where (y/n) went to a “Red and Black ball”(you can pick the readers outfit if you want) made by the Volturi kings themselves.

And during their time at the ball they made eye contact with each of the knights as they walked pass by them

Almost like a slow motion moment Yknow😅

This is so cool I can definitely do this and I’ll even have it as each of their povs further down in this

↱ queen of the ball ↰

➘ summary : the volturi goes all out for their newest member, it’s a good thing they are hosting a ball tonight

➘ a/n : I don’t feel I did my best for this but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless :)

➘ Jane x Alec x reader x demetri x felix , volturi x reader

The grand halls of the Volturi castle were adorned with opulent decorations, a tapestry of black and red intertwining to create an ambiance of both elegance and power. The anticipation was palpable as guests from all corners of the vampire world gathered for the much-awaited black and red ball, hosted by the Volturi kings themselves.

In a secluded chamber within the castle, the newest member of the Volturi, (Y/N), stood before a full-length mirror. She was surrounded by a whirlwind of activity as skilled hands worked to transform her appearance. The dress that had been meticulously designed for her lay across a chair, a masterpiece of black silk with intricate red accents that mimicked the patterns of rose petals.

Marcus, known for his impeccable taste and eye for design, had overseen every detail of the dress's creation. He had chosen to infuse it with an air of enchantment, a nod to the fairy tales that humans so often told. The dress clung to her figure in all the right places, the red accents tracing delicate lines that emphasized her natural beauty.

Aro, with his flair for the dramatic, had arranged for a hairstylist and makeup artist to enhance (Y/N)'s features. Her (h/c) hair was woven into an intricate updo, adorned with delicate red crystals that caught the light and shimmered like stars. The makeup artist had worked magic with brushes and pigments, enhancing her eyes and lips in a way that accentuated her allure without overpowering her natural radiance.

As the finishing touches were applied, (Y/N)'s reflection stared back at her with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. This was a night of celebration, a chance for her to make her mark within the Volturi and to showcase her newfound place as a member of their family. She had been embraced by the kings, and tonight, she would step into her role with grace and poise.

With a final flourish, her reflection smiled back at her, and the transformation was complete. She turned to face the attendants, gratitude filling her eyes. "Thank you all. I never imagined I would be part of such an extraordinary event."

Caius, whose taste leaned towards luxury and indulgence, entered the room, holding a pair of red and black heels with a glass-like sheen. "To complete the ensemble," he declared, a rare hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The shoes were a work of art, a perfect match to the dress that had been crafted with such care.

Finally ready, (Y/N) took one last look in the mirror before stepping out into the bustling hallway. The whispers of admiration that followed her as she walked towards the ballroom were a testament to the effort that had been put into her transformation. The dress swirled around her with each step, the red accents catching the light and creating an ethereal glow.

As she entered the ballroom, the atmosphere shifted. All eyes turned towards her, the sea of black and red parting to make way for her presence. The Volturi kings stood at the center, their gazes filled with approval and a touch of awe. Aro's grin was infectious, and Caius's nod of approval held more weight than she could have hoped for.

Marcus approached her, his calm demeanor softened by a smile. "You look stunning, my dear. Your mates will surely love seeing you in this."

With each note of the music that filled the air, (Y/N) felt the weight of her new role lifting. She was not just a member of the Volturi; she was a part of a family that celebrated her, appreciated her, and had dressed her in a gown fit for a modern Cinderella.

Demetri's eyes were fixed on the entrance to the grand ballroom, his heart pounding with an excitement he couldn't contain. He had heard the whispers and the anticipatory hum that had swept through the castle, signaling the arrival of someone special. And then, like a vision materializing from his most fervent dreams, she appeared.

(Y/N) walked into the room, her presence captivating everyone in its wake. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze traveled down her figure, taking in the sight of the black Cinderella-like dress with its delicate red accents. The dress hugged her curves with a grace that left him momentarily speechless.

The red accents seemed to dance like flames against the darkness of the dress, creating an enchanting contrast that mirrored her captivating aura. Her (h/c) hair was elegantly styled, adorned with crimson crystals that caught the light and shimmered like stars in the night sky. The makeup that enhanced her features was a masterpiece, drawing his attention to her mesmerizing eyes and the curve of her lips.

Every step she took seemed to be guided by an otherworldly elegance, as if the very air around her recognized her significance. Demetri's heart swelled with pride as he watched her, a fierce possessiveness welling up within him. She was his mate, a beacon of beauty that had captured his heart and soul from the moment they had met.

Her eyes scanned the room, a mixture of curiosity and wonder reflecting in their depths. It was as if she was seeing the grandeur of the ballroom for the first time, and in a way, he realized, she was. This was her introduction to the world of the Volturi, and he was both honored and anxious to be a part of this pivotal moment in her life.

Demetri's thoughts raced as he continued to watch her. The way she moved, the way she interacted with the other guests—everything about her was a testament to her innate grace and charm. He knew that this was a night she would remember, a night that would etch itself into her memory just as indelibly as it would in his.

As the music swelled and couples began to dance, Demetri found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her. She was the center of attention, the embodiment of the beauty and elegance that the night represented. And in that moment, he knew that he was the luckiest man alive to have her as his mate, to witness her in all her glory as she graced the ballroom with her presence.

Jane's crimson eyes were fixed on the entrance to the ballroom, her usually impassive expression betraying a flicker of anticipation. She had heard the whispers and felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere, signaling the arrival of someone who held a special place in her heart. And then, as if stepping out of a fairy tale, (Y/N) walked into the room.

A rare warmth spread through Jane's chest as she took in the sight before her. The black Cinderella-like dress with its intricate red accents was a striking choice that perfectly complemented (Y/N)'s allure. Jane's lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she recognized the dress as a creation from Marcus's impeccable taste. It seemed that even the reserved Volturi kings could not resist the allure of such an enchanting design.

(Y/N) moved with a grace that demanded attention, her every step exuding confidence and elegance. Jane's gaze lingered on the red accents, noting how they seemed to capture the light and create a luminous effect against the dark fabric. Her (h/c) hair was styled in a way that emphasized her beauty without overpowering it, and the makeup highlighted her delicate features.

The transformation was remarkable, turning (Y/N) into a vision that was hard to ignore. Jane's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions, a potent blend of pride and possessiveness. This was her mate, someone who had captured her heart and whose presence held an undeniable significance in her life.

As (Y/N)'s gaze swept across the room, Jane couldn't help but admire the way her eyes sparkled with curiosity and wonder. She was taking in the grandeur of the ballroom, a place that was undoubtedly foreign to her. Jane felt a desire to protect (Y/N) from the attention and scrutiny that came with being a part of the Volturi, even as she recognized (Y/N)'s inner strength.

The music resonated through the air, couples twirling and dancing to its rhythm. Jane's attention, however, remained solely on (Y/N). She watched as (Y/N) interacted with the other guests, her genuine smile and the ease with which she carried herself drawing people to her like moths to a flame.

In that moment, Jane was overcome with a sense of gratitude. She knew that finding a mate was a rare and precious gift, and having (Y/N) by her side was a privilege she cherished. As the night unfolded, Jane knew that this would be a memory she would hold onto—a memory of the night she watched her mate, resplendent in a black dress with red accents, make her mark in the world of vampires and within the depths of Jane's own heart.

Alec's gaze was unwavering as he stood at the edge of the ballroom, his typically calm demeanor masking the rush of emotions that surged within him. The anticipation in the air was almost palpable, the collective excitement of the guests adding to the electric atmosphere. And then, like a beacon of elegance and beauty, (Y/N) walked into the room.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto her figure. The black Cinderella-like dress adorned with delicate red accents clung to her form in a way that seemed almost poetic. Alec's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile as he recognized the elegance of the dress as a creation of Marcus's meticulous design.

(Y/N)'s every movement was a symphony of grace, her steps measured yet exuding a confidence that drew all eyes toward her. Alec's gaze lingered on the red accents that seemed to come alive under the light, casting a mesmerizing glow against the backdrop of the night. Her (h/c) hair, styled with a touch of understated glamour, framed her face in a way that enhanced her natural beauty.

Alec's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions as he watched her. There was a sense of pride that she was his mate, a feeling of possessiveness that he had never experienced before. Her transformation was remarkable, turning her into a vision that was both captivating and enchanting.

(Y/N) turned her head slightly, her eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and wonder. Alec's heart skipped a beat as he imagined what thoughts might be passing through her mind. She was stepping into a world vastly different from her own, and he couldn't help but feel an urge to shield her from the complexities that came with their world.

The music filled the air, couples swaying to its rhythm, but Alec's focus remained solely on (Y/N). He watched as she interacted with others, her genuine smile and engaging presence drawing people to her effortlessly. He admired her strength and warmth, traits that had won him over from the moment they had met.

As the night unfolded, Alec knew that this moment would remain etched in his memory. Watching (Y/N) navigate the intricacies of their world, dressed in the black and red ensemble that mirrored her grace and beauty, was a memory he would treasure forever. She was not only a part of his world but a part of his very soul, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that fate had brought them together.

Felix's dark eyes remained fixed on the entrance to the ballroom, his usually composed demeanor betraying a subtle restlessness. He had heard the murmurs and sensed the excitement that hung in the air like static, announcing the arrival of a special guest. And then, as if emerging from the depths of his most cherished dreams, (Y/N) stepped into view.

A slow, appreciative smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his gaze traveled over her. The black Cinderella-like dress with its intricate red accents was a masterpiece that held his attention captive. Felix's usually stoic expression softened as he took in every detail—the way the dress clung to her figure, the red accents that seemed to shimmer like embers against the darkness.

(Y/N) moved with a regal grace, each step exuding a confidence that drew the eyes of everyone in the room. Felix's heart swelled with a mixture of pride and possessiveness as he watched her. This was his mate, the person who had captured his heart in a way that he had never thought possible. Her transformation was nothing short of breathtaking, a testament to the care and attention that had been poured into her appearance.

The (h/c) hair that framed her face was styled in a way that highlighted her features, enhancing her natural beauty without overpowering it. Felix's eyes lingered on the delicate details—the crimson crystals that adorned her hair, the makeup that accentuated her eyes and lips in a way that left him entranced.

As (Y/N)'s gaze swept across the room, Felix's heart skipped a beat. He admired the way she carried herself, the ease with which she engaged with the other guests. There was an air of curiosity and wonder in her eyes, as if she was seeing this world through a new lens. And in a way, she was. This was her introduction to the Volturi's grandeur, and Felix was both humbled and anxious to be a part of this pivotal moment in her life.

The music filled the air, couples swaying in time to its melody, but Felix's attention remained solely on (Y/N). He watched as she interacted with others, her presence commanding attention, her genuine smile captivating those around her.

With each passing moment, Felix felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude. This was the mate he had longed for, the one who completed him in ways he hadn't thought possible. As the night unfolded, he couldn't help but marvel at the image of (Y/N) dressed in the black and red ensemble, a representation of her beauty and the depth of their connection. This was a memory he would hold close, a moment in time that encapsulated the beginning of a new chapter in both their lives.

A sense of unity seemed to permeate the air as Alec, Jane, Felix, and Demetri exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. Their posts were important, but this was a moment they couldn't let slip by unnoticed. As if guided by an unspoken agreement, they discreetly left their respective places and converged in a more secluded corner of the ballroom.

Alec's gaze held a soft intensity as he spoke first, his voice low and filled with genuine admiration. "You look breathtaking, (Y/N). The dress, the way you carry yourself—it's truly enchanting."

Jane's crimson eyes held a warmth that was rare for her, her lips curving into a genuine smile. "I must admit, I'm not one for compliments, but tonight you've managed to capture everyone's attention, including mine. You are a vision."

Felix's usually boisterous demeanor was replaced with a subdued reverence. "You've managed to stun even me, and that's saying something. The dress, the way you've carried yourself—it's as if you were made for this moment."

Demetri, who often wore a laid-back smile, looked at (Y/N) with a blend of fondness and pride. "You've brought a different kind of light to this event. It's like you've breathed life into the room, and I have to say, you've made quite the impression."

As (Y/N) listened to their words, her heart swelled with a mixture of happiness and gratitude. To have the attention and affection of these four individuals, each of whom was so integral to the Volturi, was a feeling that she couldn't put into words.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. "Your words mean more to me than you'll ever know."

Alec's lips curved into a small smile as he exchanged a look with the others. "We're not ones for public displays of emotion, but tonight is different. Tonight, we want you to know just how much you've enriched our lives."

Jane's gaze held a softness that spoke volumes, and Felix nodded in agreement. Demetri, always one for straightforwardness, offered a warm grin. "You're an exceptional addition to our family, and you've made this night unforgettable."

As they stood together, the Volturi guards and their mate shared a moment that transcended words—a connection forged by shared admiration and affection. And as the music played on, they returned to their respective posts, knowing that this night would forever remain etched in their memories as a testament to their unity and the strength of their bonds.

[agirlsawalittlerose]

This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 15: All You Wanted

Viserys Targaryen had to be, without a doubt, a great lover of Christmas—or maybe just parties in general, or perhaps an exceptional networker. Victoria wasn’t sure which was the most accurate version of him, but she pondered it as she stepped out of the Uber Aemond had graciously paid for, dropping her off in front of the massive estate where his family was hosting the record label’s Christmas party.

The car had pulled up to an enormous courtyard. In its center, a grand fountain spouted water, which glowed crimson under cleverly positioned lights. The same deep red hue adorned the string lights wrapped around the towering trees lining the driveway to the villa’s entrance.

Vic immediately regretted wearing heels. But Aemond had been very clear—at least for tonight—about the black-tie dress code.

Of course, Vic owned nothing remotely suitable for the occasion and she had to spend a lot of the money of her first paycheque to buy an appropriate dress. Sara had helped and styled Vic’s long brown hair into an updo so elegant and polished that not only could Vic never have managed it on her own, but she could hardly recognize herself in the mirror.

She actually looked her almost thirty years, for once.

When she’d left the house, she’d felt confident—poised for the occasion, even beautiful. But now, standing at the edge of this glittering spectacle, Vic felt completely out of place.

Her discomfort wasn’t solely because this was Aegon’s big night—the first public debut of a piece of their hard work. It wasn’t even because she was about to be thrown into the lion’s den of industry big shots, a world that had terrified her since it had chewed up and spit out Charlie.

No, what really made her stomach churn was that Aegon, the bastard, had pulled one final trick on her.

He’d decided to perform the single acoustically.

Which left Vic standing on the sidelines, reduced to being little more than a polite face in the crowd. All she could do was smile, nod, and exchange pleasant conversation with these industry giants, each one reminding her just how far from her comfort zone she really was.

Aemond appeared less than a minute after Vic texted him to let him know she was outside and offered her his arm in a gesture so formal that Vic had only ever seen it happen in movies.

Weird, damn rich people.

“How’s the devil?” Vic asked, referring to Aegon. She pictured him dying with anxiety, maybe completely hammered—or, more likely, both.

Aemond chuckled softly, his head held high and his gaze fixed straight ahead, matching her pace as she navigated the steps leading to the main hall. He didn’t rush her, giving her all the time she needed in her impractical heels.

“Strangely calm,” he replied.

Vic instinctively turned her head to look at him, still gripping his arm for balance. The news was oddly reassuring but confusing at the same time. If she knew anything about that idiot brother of his, it was that Aegon’s calm was usually a front—arrogance as a shield to hide how terrified he really was underneath.

Aemond immediately caught the skepticism in her expression. “And how are you?” he asked, finally meeting her gaze. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder blade as they reached the top of the stairs, making sure she was comfortable in her heels.

Great. Even he had noticed how awkward she was in "real adult" shoes.

“I just hope he likes the single,” Vic said finally, purposefully vague about who he was. But it was clear she meant Viserys. She could almost feel the ripple of her anxiety pass from her to Aemond.

“If he doesn’t, that says nothing about you as a songwriter. You know that, right?” Aemond replied firmly.

Vic looked up at him, momentarily stunned and unexpectedly grateful. Aemond had a knack for saying the right thing exactly when she needed to hear it.

But she wasn’t worried about herself—not really.

With a small nod, Aemond motioned toward the grand hall, silently inviting her to step inside.

Vic stepped into the grand hall, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. For a moment, she stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by the sheer opulence of the space.

The room was massive, its vaulted ceiling soaring high above her head, where intricate frescoes depicted scenes of mythology and grandeur. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the center, throwing prisms of golden light across the room. It sparkled so brightly that it almost hurt to look at.

The walls were lined with dark, rich wood panels, each carved with delicate patterns that seemed to tell a story. Between the panels, tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling, draped with deep red velvet curtains tied back with thick golden cords. The view beyond the glass was obscured by the night, but the faint outline of manicured hedges and twinkling fairy lights hinted at the grandeur of the estate’s gardens.

Scattered across the hall were clusters of small, round tables draped in white linens, each adorned with towering floral arrangements of blood-red roses and gold-tipped white lilies. Golden candelabras provided additional lighting, their flames flickering softly in the slight draft that swept through the room.

Waiters in perfectly tailored black uniforms wove through the crowd, balancing silver trays of champagne flutes and tiny, elaborate hors d’oeuvres. The scent of something decadent—truffle, maybe, or roasted lamb—lingered faintly in the air.

The guests themselves looked like they’d stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. Women in glittering gowns and men in sharp tuxedos moved effortlessly through the space, champagne glasses in hand, their conversations light and polished. The hum of chatter filled the room, punctuated occasionally by bursts of laughter.

Vic suddenly felt the weight of her expensive dress and perfectly styled hair. The whole room felt like it was drenched in wealth, every detail screaming refinement and power. She scanned the space quickly, looking for Aegon or anything remotely familiar to anchor herself.

Her eyes caught sight of a massive Christmas tree standing proudly near the back of the room, its base surrounded by wrapped gifts that Vic suspected were purely decorative. The tree itself was a spectacle: towering and perfectly symmetrical, decorated with golden ornaments, white twinkling lights, and red ribbons cascading down its length. It was so picture-perfect it could’ve been plucked from a holiday catalog.

“Welcome to the circus,” Aemond muttered beside her, his voice low and sardonic, as if he could sense her discomfort.

Vic exhaled, straightening her shoulders. “More like a museum. I feel like I should be paying an entrance fee.”

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but he said nothing, simply gesturing toward the far end of the room, where the Targaryens were undoubtedly holding court. Vic swallowed hard and followed his lead, forcing herself to blend into a world that felt entirely too big and too foreign for her.

Vic grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest tray, momentarily forgetting her manners and failing to thank the waiter. She was too preoccupied, her eyes darting around the room as she tried not to feel suffocated by the magnitude of the occasion. She searched for Aemond’s gaze, hoping for reassurance, while scanning the crowd for Aegon.

But he wasn’t there. Not anywhere.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Aemond, his hand steady on her back, steering her toward Helaena and a stunning woman with long auburn hair. Vic recognized her instantly, even though they’d never met—Charlie’s stories had been vivid enough. This was the infamous wife of Viserys Targaryen, probably twenty-five years his junior.

Vic downed her champagne in one gulp.

“Vic!” Helaena’s cheerful voice rang out as soon as she noticed them approaching. “Good to see you!” she added with a warm smile.

“You too,” Vic replied genuinely, before her gaze flicked toward the elder Mrs. Targaryen.

Her smile was polite but faint, her eyes scanning Vic with the intensity of someone trying to sniff out danger—so much so that it bordered on inviting it in. If Aegon’s confessions were true, his mother was attempting to size her up, trying to figure out who this girl was, the one who had consumed so much of her son’s time in recent months.

“Vic… I mean, Victoria… Nice to meet you,” Vic said awkwardly, instinctively moving to offer her hand. But Mrs. Targaryen merely nodded in acknowledgment, a subtle reminder that in these circles, such gestures weren’t necessary.

“The pleasure is mine,” the woman replied smoothly. “I’ve heard you’re a very talented musician,” she added, her formal smile brightening ever so slightly.

Vic glanced reflexively at Aemond, whose hand had just slipped off her back so he could shrug in response. “And an excellent songwriter,” Helaena added proudly, making it clear that she’d been the one to tell their mother about Vic.

Vic blushed without realizing it, nervously tucking her bangs behind her ear before mentally kicking herself for probably ruining Sara’s meticulous handiwork.

“Thank you,” she said softly, lowering her gaze. “Working with Aegon has been an incredibly rewarding opportunity,” she added, hoping her words conveyed only the professional admiration she felt for Aegon and not… well, everything that had happened outside their apartment building.

At the mention of Aegon, Mrs. Targaryen stiffened again, her expression tightening with an odd mix of anxiety and discomfort. But before Vic could study her further—or wait for a response—Aemond reached for her empty glass, replacing it with a full one.

“Cigarette?” he offered, locking eyes with her.

Vic nodded, bowing her head slightly toward Mrs. Targaryen and murmuring something about how it had been a pleasure to meet her. Then she allowed Aemond to guide her toward the villa’s gardens, grateful for the escape.

"Your mother is stunning," Vic remarked as she and Aemond navigated through the crowd.

Aemond must have picked up on the reverence in her tone because he replied, "She can be a bit... intense."

Before Vic could say more, Cole intercepted them. "Aemond!" he called, drawing his attention. Then, with a quick nod to her, he added, "Hey, Vic." Turning back to Aemond, he continued, "The sound tech is screwing everything up. The acoustics are already trash, and I really need your help."

Aemond rolled his eyes. "Right now?" he asked, flicking a glance at Vic before looking back at Cole.

"Sorry, man, I don’t mean to interrupt, but it’d be a huge help," Cole pressed, clearly anxious.

Aemond exhaled in irritation. "I’ll be right back," he said to Vic before heading off with Cole toward the sound console on the opposite side of the room.

Vic watched him go, an unwelcome pang of dread settling in her chest. Being left alone when she didn’t know anyone definitely sucked. For a moment, she considered finding Helaena, but the thought of enduring another round of scrutiny from Mrs. Targaryen quickly put her off the idea.

Her discomfort drove her to lift her champagne flute again, but before she could take a sip, a hand snatched it away.

"Just because you’re off duty doesn’t mean you need to get hammered. Are you trying to miss my big debut?" Aegon’s voice teased as he grinned at her, holding the glass out of her reach.

Vic turned to face him, and he watched as surprise flickered in her eyes before fading into irritation as recognition dawned.

"Well, I was perfectly happy to do my job before you decided to relieve me of it for the evening," she retorted, reaching for her glass with a dramatic wave of her arm.

*****

The sudden, brief contact with Vic’s body made Aegon flinch. She was painfully hot tonight. She looked like one of the high-society ladies his mother had always tried to shove in his direction, but somehow worse—like she had stepped straight out of one of his hidden, borderline depraved fantasies. The untamed, maddening Vic Dawson, forced into heels and a chignon, flailing like a petulant child because he’d taken away her favorite toy.

"Thank me instead," Aegon said with a smirk. "I saw you with my mother earlier. If you’d had to perform tonight, you’d have had a heart attack before you even got on stage."

Without waiting for her response, he drained her champagne, ignoring the glare she shot at him.

"Really?" she muttered, crossing her arms in irritation as he handed the empty glass to a passing waiter.

Aegon’s eyes flicked downward, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but notice the way her posture was pressing her tits against the fabric of her dress. The gown seemed like it was barely containing her, the neckline so prim and proper it made the tension almost unbearable. If they rebel and pop out, it’ll be her fault for looking like that he thought, amused.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” he drawled, tilting his head as if studying a rare artifact.

Vic snorted, her laugh sharp and biting. "I could say the same about you," she shot back, letting her eyes trail over the tailored suit he was wearing. For a moment, her gaze lingered just long enough to unnerve him, but then she added, almost as if she couldn’t stop herself, "I wonder how it’d look with Sara’s t-shirt."

Interesting.

“Fuck off, Vic,” Aegon replied, leaning casually against a nearby column. His smirk was self-assured, the kind of grin that spoke of a man who thought he’d already won a game she didn’t even know they were playing. His hands slid into his pockets as if to underline just how little he cared.

Vic didn’t flinch. Not really. But Aegon caught the faintest flicker of movement as her hand twitched, almost rising to fix her bangs. She stopped herself just in time, instead flagging down one of the endlessly circling waiters with trays of champagne. The effortless save annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

“What’s the matter?” Vic asked as she reached for another glass, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “You don’t like compliments anymore?”

“Far from it,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening as she plucked the glass from the tray “I just think your timing is absolute shit, princess.”

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what exactly she was trying to drown in his father’s overpriced champagne. Embarrassment? Guilt? Jealousy? Or maybe—just maybe—that infuriating cocktail of feelings she clearly couldn’t name but had no problem writing into a song.

Probably guilt, though. For fucking him and then leaving like he was some stray dog she’d made the mistake of petting.

Fucking Vic Dawson. Her mouth, her eyes, her stupid bangs, and those tits crammed into that ridiculously proper dress that somehow made her even more distracting. He hated that she was in his head, the fact that, for some reason, he cared about worming his way into her thoughts and snatching the glass out of her hand.

Her narrowed gaze was back on him, assessing. Curious. Always curious, like she couldn’t help but wonder what was beneath the smirk. He hated that too.

“Say what you mean,” she challenged, her voice low and steady.

Aegon hesitated, just for a second. He could feel the words clawing their way up his throat, every accusation he’d swallowed since that night. He could tell her how cowardly it was, pouring every emotion she had into lyrics but going silent when it mattered. He could remind her of the way her lips had still been swollen from his kisses when she’d walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Instead, he shrugged and took a step closer, the corners of his mouth curling into something sharper. “Nah,” he said lightly. “I’ll save it. Maybe I’ll write a song about it later.”

Her eyes flickered—maybe irritation, maybe something else—but she didn’t bite, just stared at him like she was trying to read something in his face. For a moment, he thought she might call him out, but before she could say anything, they were interrupted.

“Aegon!” Cole’s voice broke through the tension like a hammer through glass. Aegon turned his head sharply to see Cole striding toward him, Aemond trailing just behind.

“What now?” Aegon groaned, his annoyance evident as he stepped back from Vic.

Cole gave him a look that was somewhere between exasperation and panic. “You need to get ready. We’ve got five minutes before you’re on, and the sound tech still isn’t convinced we’ve fixed the monitors.”

Aemond crossed his arms, his expression as calm and unimpressed as ever. “I did fix the monitors,” he said flatly, though there was the faintest edge of amusement in his voice.

Aegon sighed dramatically, throwing one last glance at Vic before turning back to Cole. “Fine, fine. Keep your pants on.” He shot a wink at Vic, his smirk firmly back in place. “Enjoy the night Vic”

And with that, he let Cole pull him away, though he could still feel Vic’s eyes on his back as he walked off.

Vic took another slow sip of her champagne, watching Aegon stride toward the stage. She hated how her stomach twisted when he ran a hand through his hair and grinned, that trademark cocky smirk he wore like armor. Damn him. Damn him and the way he always made her feel like the floor might drop out from under her.

The crowd began to shift, gravitating toward the stage, and she instinctively stepped closer to Aemond, who, despite his usual air of indifference, seemed oddly attentive tonight. Before long, Helaena appeared at Vic's side, her delicate floral perfume announcing her arrival even before her bright smile. Trailing behind her was the ever-composed Mrs. Targaryen, who gave Vic a quick, assessing glance before fixing her gaze on the stage.

"Looks like he's finally ready," Helaena murmured, clapping her hands together softly, like an excited child.

Aegon climbed onto the stage, the microphone in his hand, and cleared his throat. He looked out at the crowd, his expression teetering between confidence and nervousness. Vic could see the way his fingers fidgeted with the mic stand, and for a moment, she felt a pang of something she didn’t want to name—concern? Pride? Annoyance? Probably all three.

"Uh, good evening, everyone," Aegon started, his voice a little uneven at first. "I know you’re all here for the drinks and the free food, but let’s pretend for a second you care about the music, yeah?"

There was a ripple of polite laughter, and Vic found herself rolling her eyes, though she couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. He paused, then added with a shrug, "No, but seriously. This song… it means a lot to me. And, uh, I hope you hate it less than I think you will."

That got a bigger laugh from the crowd, and Aegon grinned, more at ease now as he adjusted the guitar strap on his shoulder.

Vic leaned toward Aemond, lowering her voice. "Endearing, isn’t he? Like a drunk frat boy giving a wedding toast."

Aemond smirked faintly, his eyes still on the stage. "He's consistent, I'll give him that.“

Vic snickered, doing her best to keep her voice low enough so that neither Helaena nor the Targaryen matriarch could hear her. “It pisses me off that he didn’t want us to play tonight.”

Aemond gave her a sympathetic look, his sharp features softening slightly. “Anyone who can figure him out deserves a prize,” he replied, releasing a sigh laced with faint irritation.

“No, it’s just... I feel like that single is a little mine, too, you know? We worked so hard on it that…” But her words trailed off, hanging in the air like an unfinished thought.

Aegon had started playing.

Vic’s head snapped toward the stage, her breath catching as she saw him—solemn, his head bowed low, his eyes closed. His fingers moved across the strings with practiced ease, the first chords rising into the air like smoke. Chords she knew. Chords she knew too well.

She didn’t need to turn to feel Aemond’s confusion radiating beside her. He had no idea what his brother was playing. But Vic did.

The moment Aegon’s voice cut through the room, rich and haunting, it confirmed what her racing heart already knew.

“This is my song,” Vic whispered, her voice barely audible, as if saying it out loud would make it more real.

“Well, it’s not Oblivion...” Aemond muttered, completely missing the point, his brow furrowed in mild puzzlement.

“No.” Vic turned sharply toward him, her voice firm now, her words cutting. “It’s my song.”

But she didn’t wait to see if the meaning of her words sank in. Her attention snapped back to Aegon, who had just reached the chorus. Her chorus. Or was it his now?

A thousand thoughts roared to life in her head, tangled and messy, refusing to sort themselves into anything coherent.

How the hell did he get this?

What the fuck is he doing?

How does he even know about “All You Wanted”?

Her chest tightened, and she felt small. Vulnerable. That song wasn’t just music—it was a piece of her, raw and real. A secret she had kept locked away. It was the embodiment of her regrets, her fears, her hopes she had never dared share with anyone.

She had never intended for him to hear it. Not that night outside his house. Not when she’d rested her head on his shoulder. Not even when his smile had made her heart flutter, and she’d foolishly entertained the thought of letting herself feel something more for him.

And yet, here he was. Singing it. Claiming it. Dragging it out of her safe, hidden world and exposing it to everyone like some cruel joke they were in on together—except only one of them had agreed to play.

Brazen. Arrogant. Unapologetic.

Vic’s hands clenched at her sides as she watched him, still singing, perfectly composed, as if nothing about this was extraordinary or wrong. As if the song wasn’t hers.

As if it wasn’t a love song she had written for him.

As soon as the song ended, Vic barely had time to register the roar of applause and cheers erupting around her.

Aegon, too, seemed completely detached from the moment. He gave the crowd a small, grateful smile—genuine, yet missing that usual false arrogance he always carried with him. He lifted a hand in acknowledgment before locking eyes with her, standing there in the middle of the sea of people. His expression was slightly guilty, paired with the same kind of smile a kid would wear when caught scribbling on the walls.

A look that seemed to say, Yeah, I messed up, but you love me anyway.

Vic felt a sudden wave of anger rise inside her.

Aemond had known. Aegon had known. Her music was supposed to come out on her terms. That had been one of the conditions when she had agreed to write with him.

But as Aegon stepped off the stage, her anger turned inward as well—because the real reason she was mad was that he knew. He knew exactly what she had meant when she wrote that song.

Suddenly, Vic felt stripped bare, pressed against a wall of red bricks, shame creeping up on her like a debt collector coming to settle accounts. And now that her carefully built façade of indifference had shattered, she knew exactly how this was going to end.

She had lost.

Once again, she had folded in front of a man who would walk away the second he saw her real feelings. No—worse. A man who had humiliated her by throwing those feelings right back in her face, after days of silence, of polite collaboration—only to then disappear into the oblivious crowd, leaving her standing there, exposed.

The whirlwind of thoughts consuming her vanished in an instant the moment she heard Aemond’s voice calling her name.

Snapped back to the lavish ballroom of the villa, Vic turned sharply toward him, barely giving him the chance to finish before she was on him like a storm.

“What the fuck is this conspiracy? This wasn’t the deal! And how the hell did he even hear that song?” she yelled, panicked, gesturing wildly and nervously adjusting her bangs.

Aemond, though confused, wasn’t panicked.

“Calm down, Victoria, please! I have no idea. It wasn’t me,” he said, placing both hands on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her rage. “But you’re right, this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Vic froze.

Right. He was on her side.

For a brief moment, she felt guilty—Charlie guilty—for jumping to a thousand conspiracy theories in the span of a second.

That idiot had definitely rubbed off on her.

“Oh,” she mumbled, still dazed.

“We’ll find him and get some answers,” Aemond added, already moving forward with purpose. Vic could only nod, nervously trailing behind him as he led their little search party.

She wished she had a torch and a pitchfork.

Maybe even an executioner’s mask.

More to hide her embarrassment than for dramatic effect.

As they pushed through the crowd, they spotted Criston Cole approaching, muttering something about the lighting technician being prepared for a completely different song and how it had been a disaster.

Vic was relieved when Aemond handled the entire interaction in two seconds flat, sparing her the need to engage.

Continuing their way through the crowd, they ran into Helaena and Mrs. Targaryen. Helaena stopped just long enough to congratulate her, saying she had no doubt the whole album would be a success if this was just the single.

Vic stiffened.

My music. My song. My feelings.

She wasn’t sure if Helaena noticed how she hesitated before mumbling a weak thank you and excusing herself to follow Aemond.

As for Mrs. Targaryen, Vic didn’t even glance in her direction.

If she was out hunting for whatever trouble her reckless son had stirred up, Vic was certain she reeked of guilt and shame.

Of beer.

Of fucking in public.

And it would take her all of thirty seconds to read it straight off Vic’s face.

Vic and Aemond were making their way out of the ballroom, heading toward the grand staircase that led to the villa’s gardens, when an uncontrollable urge hit her—to rip off these damn shoes that, at this moment, hurt even more than the secret humiliation she had just endured.

Aemond noticed her stop at the top of the stairs and turned back to offer his arm for support.

She took it.

“And here I thought you said you hadn’t written anything good,” he remarked, more as a compliment than to tease her.

Vic wrestled with the last buckle of her shoe strap before flashing him a bitter smile.

But just as she was trying to figure out how to explain that this song, in particular, had never been meant for an audience—hadn’t even been written for the person it was about to hear—it happened.

She felt Aemond tense beside her.

And then, he said a word that froze the blood in her veins.

“Dad.”

Aemond’s voice was stiff, the slight tremor in it betraying the fact that he was just as thrilled about this encounter as she was.

Vic shot upright so fast that her carefully styled bun—painstakingly arranged by Sara—promptly fell apart.

Disheveled, barefoot, still clutching her heels in one hand and fighting the very real urge to punch half of this man’s offspring, Vic turned to face Viserys Targaryen.

“Oh, I know exactly who you are! This one here hasn’t stopped shoving all your demos at me, Like a dog bringing back the same chewed-up bone, over and over again,” said the devil himself—the man who had ruined Charlie, who had ruined his own children, and who was now speaking to her.

Aemond dint even flinch despite the awfully cruel metaphor.

Vic felt the full weight of the presence that was Viserys Targaryen, the way he commanded fear without even realizing it.

But she also felt the weight of something else—of knowing that while he was aware of her existence, his interest in her barely surpassed the attention he had just given the valet who’d handed him a box of cigars.

Without so much as glancing at the boy, Viserys plucked a cigar from the box, while beside her, Aemond fidgeted with his hands, clearly aware there was no escaping this interaction.

“Just doing my job,” Aemond muttered, eyes darting around in search of an escape.

“Well, it seems you’re quite the mentor, Miss Dawson,” Viserys drawled, his cheeks flushed from champagne, exhaling a thick plume of smoke between words.

Vic realized she was so insignificant to whatever good time Viserys Targaryen was having that her messy hair, bare feet, and her general presence weren’t worth much more than a mild inconvenience—just a brief disruption between another flute of champagne, another Cuban cigar, and another jab at his son.

“I should go to the restroom,” Vic said, a mix of panic, disgust, and the sheer urgency to get the fuck out of here—knowing full well that no productive conversation was ever going to come from that absolute prick.

Viserys gave a short, exaggerated bow before letting out a crude, belly-deep laugh, clapping Aemond on the back as she turned and left them both behind.

She felt a flicker of guilt for abandoning what had been her only ally these past few weeks.

But this was about survival.

*****

Aegon was outside, alone, tucked away in the farthest corner of the garden, smoking a cigarette he barely cared about.

The night air was crisp, the sky stretching dark and endless above him, but he wasn’t really paying attention to any of it. The muffled sounds of the party still hummed from inside the villa—laughter, music, the kind of meaningless chatter that filled rooms like that. He let the noise fade into the background, tilting his head back against the stone wall behind him, exhaling smoke through his nose.

Well. That had been fun.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he replayed the moment in his head. The way the room had eaten it up. The way the applause had rung in his ears. The way Vic had looked at him—

Fuck. That had been the best part.

She hadn’t seen it coming.

And why would she? She’d spent all this time pretending. Pretending their night together hadn’t meant anything, pretending she didn’t want him, pretending she didn’t care. But she had cared—she had cared enough to write a fucking song about it.

She had handed him the truth wrapped up in melody and lyrics.

Aegon grinned to himself, dragging the cigarette to his lips again. He could still picture the exact moment she had realized—right there in the middle of the crowd, eyes wide with fury, with something else underneath. Something she didn’t want him to see.

And fuck, that had been a rush.

Did he know she was probably going to try to kill him? Yeah.

Did he regret it? Not even a little bit.

He flicked the cigarette away, watching the embers glow dimly in the dark, before rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Maybe he should have stayed inside. Should have found another drink, someone to distract him, some other kind of chaos to cause. But instead, he was here. Waiting.

And then—there she was.

Storming through the garden, barefoot, her hair a mess, looking like she was ready to rip his fucking throat out.

God, she was beautiful.

It was exactly in that moment—when his eyes locked onto Vic’s instead of the way that green dress was hugging her curves perfectly—that Aegon realized something truly fucking terrifying.

He was more scared than satisfied.

More hopeful than angry.

Shit.

He had just felt the exact same way he did when he used to lie to Mr. Dalton, saying the only reason why he did coke was to piss off his parents.

Okay, fuck it, there was no harm in admitting that maybe—just maybe—some small, pathetic part of him had hoped that song would be the turning point. That it would make Vic realize they were just two idiots, too proud and too scared to grab hold of whatever chemical reaction had fried their brains enough to make them think they felt something for each other.

No. He was doing it again.

They were two idiots, too proud and too scared to admit that maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t some chemical illusion. Maybe it was just… normal. Uncontrollable. The kind of thing that happened to everyone.

Maybe it could even be good.

Aegon felt the weight of all the dust he had shoved under the rug for years—years spent running, dodging anything that could make him hurt in a way that was worse, sharper, more permanent than an overdose and a needle in his arm.

That pile of dust was bursting at the seams.

And he wondered if she—panting, out of breath from the eight hundred fucking stairs—had come to the same realization.

She must have. She must have figured it out, too

But Aegon couldn’t tell from the furious, exhausted glare she was aiming at him.

Not even when he stepped toward her, watching as her thoughts finally clicked into place and her breath evened out.

Maybe she knows.

And then she slapped him.

Hard.

Loud.

Aegon barely managed a groan, his head snapping to the side.

Yeah. He had earned that one.

“That was my song!” Vic snapped, her voice full of something raw—so simple and childish a sentence that Aegon almost laughed. That’s the best she’s got?

So much for being a songwriter.

“I know,” he said, rubbing his cheek, trying to dull the lingering sting of her fingers still burning into his skin.

Vic blinked, looking at him like he had just spoken in some alien fucking language.

“What? It was my song!” she repeated, even louder this time, frustration building, rising—

Yeah.

She hadn’t understood a goddamn thing.

Aegon figured the only way to shut her up and stop her from repeating the same fucking sentence like a five-year-old was to kiss her.

And then he admitted that he just wanted to.

So he did.

Vic tasted like nostalgia—the same kind that had just crashed over Aegon, dragging him back to weeks ago, when her kiss had also carried the sour tang of beer.

She also tasted like chaos. Probably the same chaos that had caught her off guard, the reason she hesitated for just a second. Just long enough for Aegon’s heart to stop—before slamming back to life when he heard the dull thud of her shoes hitting the grass and felt her hands gripping the back of his neck, pulling him in even closer.

It took him a while to listen to that voice in his head telling him to just say something real for once. And he only did because the adrenaline from the kiss had given him just enough confidence to not give a shit about looking like an idiot.

He cupped her face between his hands.

“I know your songs are yours. I wasn’t trying to take them from you.”

Vic just stared at him, lips parted, like that had never even been the problem in the first place.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone that night without saying anything,” she said suddenly, her voice just as intense as his had been.

Shit.

“We need to talk,” he muttered, as the realization fully hit him.

Vic just nodded.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

As he bent down to grab her shoes, that little menace was already two steps ahead, barefoot, hair a mess.

Aegon glanced up toward the top of the stairs and caught sight of Aemond. He shot him a quick nod.

He could be the one to explain to their parents where the fuck he had just disappeared.

[sungnxxn]

The Perfect Crime

[criminal!enhypen and criminal!fem!character]

Genre: Crime Warnings: crime obv (do NOT do it<3), few profanities, mention of champagne Word Count: 1.8k (1843)

Inspired by the song: Panic! At The Disco - Crazy = Genius

Synopsis: An extravagant banquet with magic can be, indeed, very entertaining.

!!! DO NOT REPOST NOR TRANSLATE WITHOUT PERMISSION !!!

The attendees trickled into the grand hall through enormous silver door. Their chatter merging with the elegant tunes of the live jazz band. As Sunghoon entered, mantaining a fleeting yet purposeful eye contact with one of the security team members. A subtle yet knowing signal passing between them before he melted into the crowd.

Nearby, Heeseung leaned into the ribbon microphone that subtly gave away the theme of the banquet - The 50s. His voice a velvet purr as he crooned the opening lines of the song. Crazy = Genius. The band behind him playing with perfect precision, the music weaving seaminglessly into the glamour of the event.

You can set yourself on fire You can set yourself on fire

Moments later, the highly anticipated magic show commenced, drawing the hall's attention.

Ni-ki standing on a small stage at the middle of the ballroom, his sharp tuxedo as crisp as the edges of the cards he expertly shuffled between nimble fingers. "My dear guests, it's an honor to finally see you. Glowing as ever. With my deepest respect, I am delighted to be able to perform infront of you tonight." He bowed deeply, his charming grin automatically met with polite applause. His act - billed as the highlight of the evening with the host being blissfully unaware of his ulterior motives, had spared no expense in hiring him.

She said at night in my dreams You dance on a tightrope of weird

"Ladies and gentlemen, I shall spare no weariness. My first trick is quite the eventful one." Ni-ki called out, silencing the murmurs among the crowd. "I'll need a volunteer. Someone brave, charming… perhaps even a billionaire?"

Across the room, Jake chuckled at the youngers choice of words. Slightly even suprised by the eloquentness of them. Grinning widely as well as drawing the attention of nearby guests, he raised his hand. Dressed in a sleek designer suit, confidence radiating, he spared no hesitation.

Oh but when I wake up you're so normal that you just disappear

"Oh, how convenient," Ni-ki quipped unsincerely. "You have my welcomes, dear sir."

As Jake moved toward the stage, he did not fail to exchange subtle glances with Sunghoon who was busy sipping his champagne while talking to woman who stroke into both of their likings regarding her beauty.

Current favourable outcome is the least one can say. Mingling with the crowd, slipping easily into conversations and leaving no suspicions.. only awe.

You're so straight like commuters with briefcases towing the line There's no residue of a torturer inside your of eyes

Behind the scenes, the operation was already underway.

Jay moving like a shadow through the service halls, his black suit blending seamlessly into the dimly lit corridors. His earpice buzzed with Jungwon's calm voice, feeding him directions from the van parked discreetly outside.

"The vault is through the next door on your left," Jungwon said.

Pulling a sleek tool from his pocket, Jay worked quickly on the electronic lock.

She said you're just like Mike Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

"How's our magician, by the way?" he muttered.

"Oh," a snicker escaped Jungwon's lips. "he's doing his job chattery as always, distracting the hell out of them."

"Good to know that at least he does not fully break his character this time," replied Jay while entering the destinated room.

Said you're just like Mike Love but you'll never be Brian Wilson

Back in the ballroom, Ni-ki was in his element. Jake standing beside him as he whipped out a silk cloth and draped it over his 'volunteer'. The crowd could not help but to watch with anticipation.

And I said (hey ay, ay) If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay) If crazy equals genius

"Now watch closely, my dear guests," Ni-ki intoned. "In the blink of an eye, this young and handsome man will vanish… into thin air!"

With a flourish, he whipped the cloth away. With Jake being gone, the crowd erupted into applause and delighted gasps. What they did not see, was him slipping offstage through a concealed passage, joining Jay near the vault.

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey) I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey) (Hey ay, ay) If crazy equals genius (hey)

Meanwhile, Sunoo paced the ballroom gracefully through the crowd, a silver tray of champagne balanced effortlessly on his palm. His smile - disarmingly sweet as he charmed the guests he served. Yet his actions being quick, slipping a jeweled brooch into his pocket here, a gold lighter there. It seemed like a triumphant night for both his team as well as himself. Catering his tastes with different types of expensive belongings. To his suprise, a guest approached him, visibly distressed.

"Excuse me, have you seen my bracelet?" the woman asked, her eyes darting nervously.

"Oh no, madam! Sadly no. Perhaps it fell under the table?" Sunoo answered with wide-eyed concern. Bending down as if to search, he deftly slipped the bracelet onto a waiter's cart passing nearby, just for him to pick it up later. Rising to his feet, offering an apologetic smile: "I'm terribly sorry. I wish I could help some more but I have other tables to tend to. May I find someone else who can assist."

She said darlin' you know How the wine plays tricks on my tongue But you don't seem to change when you stuff all of your feelings with drugs

He escorted her to a genuine security guard, explaining, "This madam misplaced her bracelet and she needs help finding it." The guest utterly concerned, followed the guard while Sunoo returned to his role.

Other boys you may have dated serrated your heart with a slice But the cut of your love never hurts baby, it's a sweet butter knife

Dressed in the uniform of a security guard, she moved with calculated precision. Already rerouted two actual guards away from the ballroom, citing suspicious activity in the kitchen. Now, hovering near the vault's entrance, ready to intercept anyone who might stumble upon Jay and Jake. Sensing no interruption for a while, a curious guard wandered too close for her liking. Stepping into his path with a firm expression.

"You're needed at the west exit. Now."

The guard hestitated but obeyed, leaving the hallway clear.

"Guys, you've got five more minutes." She whispered into her earpiece, "wrap it up. Quickly."

She said you're just like Mike Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

In the vault, Jay and Jake worked swiftly. The room was an opulent fortress, lined with safety deposit boxes and shelves filled with priceless artifacts. Opening a velvet-line case, Jake exclaimed visibly dissatisfied, "Jeez, looked better in the pictures," revealing rows of glittering jewels that were to more than one's liking.

"Jake, you might as well just shut up. It's not like you're going to wear it." Jungwon replied with a dramatic eye-roll that was obviously not visible to the one he spoke to.

He transferred the treasure into a pouch as Jay secured the door behind them. "Let's go." Jake said, his grin sharp as a blade, knowing that another one of their escapades turned successfully.

Said you're just like Mike Love but you'll never be Dennis Wilson

The guests still not quite over after the magician's first trick. Yet Ni-ki was already launching his finale.

Sunghoon stepped to the center of the room, raising a glass to draw attention. "Dear fellow riches, friends and foes, a toast! To our generous host. To our amazing magician as well as the unforgettable evening. But most importantly, a toast to our riches that shall never be gone!" His voice smooth and smile dazzling that could make every woman absolutely stunned.

The guests raised their glasses, toasting along. But as Sunghoon continued, a sublte edge crept into his words.

"Unforgettable indeed," he said, "as magic has a way of… making things disappear."

Before the host could process the comment, the lights went out, plunging the room into the darkness. Gasps and murmurs filled the air, followed by the faint sound of footsteps and the creak of a service door opening.

And I said (hey ay, ay) If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay) If crazy equals genius

When the lights flickered back on moments later, both Ni-ki and Sunghoon were gone, their absence noted by the now silent crowd. The host, sensing something was amiss, hurried to check the vault - only to find it empty.

On the door of the vault, a single playing card was taped: the Ace of Spades, with a note "Thank you for the lovely evening. We'll be sure to treasure the memories - and everything else we took." scrawled across it in elegant handwriting.

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey) I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey) (Hey ay, ay)

In the speeding van leaving the scene of plain robbery, the team celebrated their success.

"Shame shame. Wish it was silver instead of gold though." Sunoo giggled, tossing the stolen bracelet to Jake.

Jake caught it with a grin, giving it a quick look. “Nice, but I think this thing’s cursed. My grandma had a bracelet just like this, and she always told me it brings bad luck.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re still holding it. What does that say about you?”

“I like a little danger,” Jake replied, flashing a mischievous smile.

If crazy equals genius (hey) You can set yourself on fire (hey ay) But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay) You can set yourself on fire (hey ay) But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!

Ni-Ki smirked, tossing his top hat onto the dashboard. “I told you the disappearing act would kill. Who knew magic could actually be cool?"

Sunghoon leaned back, grinning smugly. "Who needs some shitty magic tricks when you can be charming as me. Enough to distract the entire ballroom."

Jay snorted from the steering wheel. "Yeah, your charm was so goddamn strong, kinda wished the chandeliers would fall on you."

Sunghoon gave him a knowing smirk. "Jealous very much?"

"Let's be glad it's over now. I think my stomach is fucking eating me from the inside." Added Jungwon, visibly displeased at the feeling of hunger.

Pulling her security cap off and shaking her hair loose, she said as she grinned to the team "Yeah, Jungwon's right. I'm hungry as hell, kinda wished I could throw few more punches though."

As the city lights blurred past the van's windows, the team bursted into laughter, raising their cups in a toast to their flawless execution.

"Now my dear friends, to the perfect crime!" Heeseung cheered, clearly imitating Sunghoon's previous speech.

And as the van sped off into the night, they all agreed, leaving behind nothing but the whispers of their latest heist and the promise of more to come.

You can set yourself on fire (hey) You can set yourself on fire (hey) You can set yourself on fire (hey) You can set yourself on fire

A/N: Suprise suprise,, here's ya christmas gift !!

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt meets their s/o's parents/family + how they react!

a/n: hello! I'm back again with a txt post this time! I hope you enjoy it. Again, requests are always welcomed and encouraged! I hope you enjoy this work! (ps. I don't have any siblings so I will not be mentioning them! I’m so sorry!)

Yeonjun <3

GENTLEMAN! He’s such a sweetheart and does his absolute best to win over your parents. He wants to build a close relationship with them so they can trust him to take care of you. He’s so excited when you tell him your parents want to meet him that he’s practically jumping up and down to the ceiling. He immediately starts to ask you 100 questions about what to wear, what gifts to take, what to talk about, etc… you two have a nice talk and figure out everything in the following days. You two decided to make a dessert to take and it became a little date the night before. Since you want you two for breakfast, you two wake up at a decent hour, get dressed and head out the door with everything. He makes a great impression with all the thoughtful details such as the gifts and the dessert. Trust that he’ll build a beautiful connection with them. 

Soobin <3

We all know this man is a shy introvert! Just the thought of meeting your parents makes his tummy twist a little. He desperately doesn’t want to mess up their first impression of him because he wants their approval so bad! How else will he marry you someday if he has a horrible first impression?! He dresses up all cute in his little button up and slacks and fancy shoes. He orders an elegant flower arrangement for your parents and brings them some pastries from a cafe you both go to often. As you could probably already guess, he is super polite and sweet, making sure to take advantage of his doughy cheeks and gentle smile. 

Beomgyu <3

Omg keep this menace away from your parents as long as possible. Jkjk. On a serious note, he would be so confident beforehand, talking up how he’s going to wow them. He dresses up casually, talking about how ‘they’ll fall in love with my personality! Why do I have to dress up?’ After some coaxing, he dresses in something a little more formal. His whole demeanor does a giant 180 when he’s driving you to their home. “Baby…what if they hate me? What if they don’t like the gifts i bought ??” cue you having to calm him and his rambling down. Once you get him to their house and he’s met them, he gets comfortable. He leaves your house with the numbers of both your parents and they start to bond, making you question if you were their child or if it was beomgyu.

Taehyun <3

An absolute dream. He’s so handsome and dreamy and responsible, aka, the definition of: guy you want to take to meet your parents. He makes sure to pick fancy presents for both of your parents and makes sure to ask your opinion on every single little detail. He decided that you both would host the meeting dinner in your shared apartment so he wanted everything to be clean and perfect (picture taehyun in a little apron the day before, making sure the apartment is spotless and well organized). You both set the table with a yummy smelling candle, pretty tablecloth and everything else needed. Taehyun and you have such a fun time setting up and cooking beforehand! Once they arrive, he makes sure they feel at home. He even got them cute little slippers to change into! He makes sure to assure them you two are doing well and that he will always take care of you. What parents wouldn’t feel comforted by those words?

Heuning Kai <3

This cutie is so excited but when the time comes, he’s extremely shy around your parents. He decided to take it upon himself to make reservations at a really nice place in town in hopes that your parents would be impressed. When it comes to his attire…you had been asking him all week what he was going to wear but he wouldn’t tell you .The day of, you find out he’s wearing A WHOLE SUIT!! You had to beg him to wear something a little less formal and he finally agreed. “Im sorry but i just don’t want to dress down and then they think they’re not important to me! I wanna look good!” You give him a compromise and you two wear matching colors. You two arrive at the restaurant and then your parents show up and he’s breaking a sweat shaking their hands, eventually just going all in for hugs. He brings them each a little individualized gift, which you helped him pick out. He is good at bringing a fun atmosphere to the table and there isn’t a single dull of awkward moment between you four.

[comfortmelodies]

Hello! Could I request a x reader fanfic or headcanons (whichever you feel like writing) with Tamaki Suoh and a fem reader who behaves a lot like Haruhi but lets out all of her flustered and embarrassed feelings when in private? Tysm! Feel free to decline if you aren’t comfortable

thanks for being my first request!! 💕 i hope its you your liking :)

tamaki suoh x fem haruhi-like!reader

a/n; this was very calming to write!! i started it at the beginning of the day yesterday so it was kinda a destresser 😭 i feel like i wrote tamaki to dramaticly but also that is kinda his thing. much love to tamaki suoh, and to you anon!!

word count: 1187

Tamaki Suoh is a very elegant, very grand, and very poise guy. It’s who he is. It’s not like you could stop his over the top gestures or vehement antics.

When sitting around in the Host Club, not doing anything in particular, you always see him as such. You like to think that he loves the theatrics more than anything. However, you’d also like to think there is one more thing he loves.

“Y/N, Dear?” You’re forcefully taken out of your dozing off. Tamaki arrived to you with a red rose in his hand and another hand behind his back.

You couldn’t help but turn away at this magnificent gesture. What's with this guy, seriously? Despite yourself, you respond, “Hi, Tamaki-senpai.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you falling asleep over here! Is the Host Club not to your standards!? What would you have in mind, for a better and bigger host club,” He kept going. Something you noticed over your time of knowing him, is that he also, really likes to talk.

You let out a gentle laugh, “It’s okay! I’m just tired from school, that's all.”

Tamaki’s worrying gaze fell upon you, “A girl like you shouldn’t be so tired to the point of falling asleep during club hours! Are you sure there’s nothing more?”

Seeing Tamaki be so outwardly caring made your hands cover your face, parting two fingers to be able to see him with one eye. You sigh, “It’s alright Tamaki-senpai, seriously. Nothing to be worried over.”

Even after your reply, you knew he wouldn’t let this go.

He places the rose in your hand and takes a seat next to you. He looks around the room, sighing every other second. “Y/N. This is horrible! One should be able to get a healthy amount of rest to be able to live the day to the fullest!” He stretches out his arms and they dramatically fall onto the back of the sofa.

You look at him and laugh a little. “Here,” you lend out your hand to place the rose under his face, “Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m okay, I mean it.”

Instead of taking the rose, he turns his head directly to you. “No, no! Y/N, I’m coming over tonight, we’re going to get you to bed on time!”

You drop the rose and immediately go to cover your face again. Seriously, what's with him? Why is he so direct like this? Your worries floating around in your mind do not come to fruition, all you can muster up in this state is a measly, “Oh, Oh, Okay…”

°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°

As it turns out, ‘tonight’ actually meant ‘right after school’.

At the very least, he did help you bring your bag’s home. “Thanks Tamaki-senpai but you really didn’t need to do all of this,”

“Sush!” Unable to move his arms around due to the both of them being occupied he put more expression into his face, “This is simply what a gentleman like I should do! Besides, it may be the heaviness of the bags that make you so tired.”

He was really thoughtful, even if it costs your brain functioning properly. You feel a slight heat rush to your face, but you don’t feel a need to cover up this time. “Maybe!”

As the two of you arrived at your house, you decided to take initiative, “You can sleep in my bed, I’ll set up one of our spare mattresses,” before you finish speaking Tamaki takes a hold of your hand, but it was subtle.

“I don’t think so. Sleeping on something like that could cause you even more sleep debt!” He’s still holding your hand. It’s soft, it's like a comforting blanket.

You want to respond but you’re a bit too focused on the fact he’s holding your hand just to walk you through your own house. “Ah, um…”

“I’ll sleep on the mattress! Don’t worry!” He swings his arms up to a ‘Hooray!’ position, causing your arm to follow.

He’s so… Your were visibly flustered by now, all you could say was a very soft, “…Yeah.”

The afternoon passes by quicker than ever with him around. He’s endless, and yet such a fun version of infinity. Heading to your room, he nearly tripped over nothing, it’s an amazing sight to see him have this much fun.

“So, I sleep there,” Tamaki pointed to the ground next to your bed, “and you, there?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the plan.” You wonder why he bothered asking such an obvious question.

Standing around, Tamaki checked out the room. He started to hum under his breath, almost as if wondering why he asked that as well.

“Y/N, do you think your sleep would… be better if I was in the bed with you?” He did not ask this while looking at you, he stood with his eyes firmly at the wall.

Hmm? Your face, bright red, “Um,” you stutter out your words, “Yea, Yeah, that’s,” You’d hate to inform him that if he was to sleep with you in your bed your heart would actually be racing and it would be much harder to actually go to sleep, so you say, “O- Okay. It’s okay.”

Tamaki’s smile illuminated the room, “You’re absolutely adorable! Alright, no mattress it is!”

“Uh.. Uhuh…” Calling you adorable like that made your thoughts completely incomprehensible.

Getting into bed, you could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Then, a flash. He was there too, with his eyes towards yours.

If you wanted to have a conversation with him, your brain certainly disagreed with you. Even with the light’s off, and the light in the sky dimmed, he was so clear to you. His blonde hair, his purple eyes. Those things were just something you saw everyday. But, tonight, staring at his natural features, you were star-struck. He gave you the softest smile you think you’ve seen in your whole life.

“I love you, dear.” He spoke gently, not too loud to wake you up if you fell asleep, but not too quiet so you wouldn’t hear.

You let out a sound of embarrassment, since that’s all you could really do, with your words and thoughts and actions being all jumbled up. Your heartbeat was loud and Tamaki could definitely feel it, and the blood rushing to your face was fast.

With the last few working brain cells, you manage to let out, “I love you, too.”

You saw him fall asleep after that. You’d love to go to sleep too, but maybe this sight—a sight you’d print out if given the chance—was close enough to repay your sleep debt. Your heartbeat calms as the night slowly takes you to dreamland. The blush will probably be staying on your face, though.

When drifting out, you think to yourself. Would life be comfortable if you two were together every night like this?

It wouldn’t be comfortable! You have zero-sense around him! Yet… it’s something you’d enjoy.

Yeah.

You wouldn’t mind this, for the rest of your life.

[eyesfullofsttars]

☆ I've waited here for you, everlong...

Sypnosis: Ellie Williams, the guitarist of Lost in the Darkness, has questionable methods for handling her stage fright, which results in an accident where Abigail Anderson, a medical student, has to intervene.

Notes: God, this is so dumb, sorry, I'm a lesbian. Also, it's 1.97k words...

Warnings: This is just fluffy stuff with mentions of alcohol (should I put a warning for that?) But nothing more than Abby and Ellie being silly lesbians for each other, nothing sexual or anything!

Stage fright was a frequent challenge for Ellie, despite being the guitarist of Lost in the Darkness, her band. At times, the anxiety and pressure of stepping onto the stage overwhelmed her, feeling all eyes on her, scrutinizing every move and waiting for her to make a mistake.

This obstacle left her with sweaty hands, making it difficult to move her fingers to play the guitar strings, while her chest heaved with each breath, rising and falling incessantly, without giving her a moment to calm her mind.

Despite these challenges, Ellie had found a solution that, although not the healthiest or ideal, allowed her to continue doing what she loved most in the world: playing music, sharing her songs, and being part of Lost in the Darkness alongside her friends Dina and Jesse.

So, facing the consequences, without much thought before stepping onto the stage, Ellie turned to alcohol, taking a couple of shots to calm her nerves and silence the intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind.

That was Ellie's routine before taking the stage to play guitar in front of everyone, delivering a show without hesitation, knocking back shots of vodka continuously just minutes before any gig, even if it was just a modest one at the local bar— the band's current limit—performing in small venues packed with crowds drawn by their love for music.

The shift had been sudden for Ellie, transitioning from jamming in her old man's garage to local gigs and opening for bigger artists. In essence, the band was inching closer to success, but with each step forward, Ellie's fear mounted, seeking solace in alcohol to silence her racing thoughts.

Typically, it had the desired effect; it freed her, making her more outgoing, encouraging her to express herself more boldly, strumming the guitar freely on stage, harmonizing with Dina, charming the admiring girls. Instead of ignoring the bras tossed her way, she would boldly grab one, spinning it around her finger with a confidence fueled by alcohol.

Without alcohol, Ellie would regress to a mere girl with her guitar, tucked away in a corner, absentmindedly tapping her foot, gazing downward with her short hair obscuring her freckled face, lacking even a trace of the confidence that her natural guitar prowess deserved.

Alcohol was a solution that used to work, except Ellie never considered the possibility that her solution would end up complicating things even more.

Now, she was facing the consequences as her dirty Converse sneakers began to get tangled in the guitar cables while she stumbled around the stage in her drunken state.

Eventually, she ended up tripping over the cables and falling off the stage with a loud crash, eliciting screams of shock and surprise from the audience and causing both Dina and Jesse to express concern and rush to her side.

Abigail Anderson possessed a peculiar charm, extremely chic in her act of privacy, coupled with the money inherited from her family of doctors. She inherently embodied elegance, remaining private and reserved, avoiding public events unrelated to her agenda.

It felt like a privilege to have her attention, even a personal luxury to distract her from her primary responsibility, making appearances anywhere other than her classes, her father's private library, her country club playing tennis, or simply hosting a tea gathering at her apartment.

That's why accepting the invitation from her friends Leah, Nora, Owen, and Manny to go to a small local bar for beer and heavy rock music was a surprise to everyone but enthusiastically celebrated.

Taken as an acknowledgment that Abby needed a break from her upcoming exam season, during which she would disappear without being reachable by anyone for weeks.

So there was Abby, seated in one of the uncomfortable chairs of the small bar, her loose blonde hair with two braids hidden among its length, smiling faintly as she watched all her friends having fun, taking sips from her beer bottle, its scent mixing with her white tank top and light blue shirt.

Abby was gently swaying her head to the rhythm of the second song of the night by the band that had taken the stage, enjoying the guitar solo performed by the girl who elicited screams from all the women present, going wild over the presence of this girl with messy hair, black crop top, and denim jorts, whose body seemed to come alive as she played the strings with precision.

Until the guitar solo was abruptly interrupted by the loud and startling sound of a fall, causing the female voices to switch from desperate screams to gasps of shock, and the band quickly ran off the stage, everyone forming a circle around a spot without moving.

"Did the guitarist fall?" Abby heard that question more as an affirmation from Nora, which quickly caught her attention, making her turn to look at her with a furrowed brow, surprising the entire group.

Once it was established that the guitarist had indeed fallen off the stage, all eyes turned to Abby, the always sought-after option whenever something a medical student could handle occurred, but even more so for Anderson, coming from a family of doctors.

"I'll go check..." Abby whispered timidly, unsure of where to look as she noticed all her friends looking expectantly at her, knowing she was capable of helping in this situation.

Abigail slowly rose from her seat, setting down her beer, running her hand through her hair to clear her vision, and asking for permission as she made her way through the crowd to approach the scene. There, she found the guitarist lying on the ground, surrounded by her two concerned bandmates.

After regaining consciousness, the first thing Ellie remembers seeing is none other than an angel sent by the Lord to her, to take her to the afterlife. This moment would forever be etched in the memory of rock, as she passed away following her guitar solo.

At least she was bidding farewell to the world of the dead in peace after being in the presence of an angel, gently caressing her freckled face with gentle yet firm hands. Despite Ellie never being, nor ever will be, a religious person, she could begin to believe after this.

"Oh God, I'm so glad you woke up," Ellie hears the relieved female voice, managing to focus her clear gaze, snapping out of her reverie. "Are you okay?"

Ellie simply nods slowly, realizing that she was still alive, sitting outside the bar, leaning against the brick wall with the cold night air brushing against her exposed skin.

Her hand grazing over her eyes and as she does, her freckled skin becomes more marked with the black eyeliner already in place. However, this motion allows her to see the woman in front of her more clearly.

Strong features, smooth skin except for a sharp scar on the cheek, long blonde hair, concerned blue eyes focused on no one but her, and hopefully, it would always be this way, in addition to her strong hands, larger than Ellie's face, trying to offer some comfort to the guitarist.

No one was allowed to laugh at Ellie's naivety for mistaking that woman for an angel, not even to laugh, because who wouldn't have done the same?

"Who are you?" Ellie dares to ask, still staring at the woman, her green eyes meeting hers, feeling her heart beat even faster at the beauty before her.

"I'm Abigail. Abigail Anderson, I study medicine..." the woman responds and Ellie immediately gets distracted trying to associate Abby's face with that name, fascinated by the small detail. "Are you okay?"

Amidst the silence and observation, Abby slightly furrows her brow in concern, quickly placing Ellie's face between her hands to look for any signs of a concussion.

Though the closeness intimidates her, Abby tries to remain professional and ignore how attractive Ellie is, with her unusual vibe, smudged eyeliner, disheveled hair, and piercings shimmering in the night light.

"Does your head hurt?" Abby manages to get the words out to ask the right question, while her hands still caress Ellie's face, searching for any signs of pain or confusion.

Ellie shakes her head, feeling a little weak but comforted by Abby's presence. Abby's sweet touch is even more comforting for Ellie, who can't focus on any possible pain in front of her.

"No, everything's fine, I think..." Ellie responds in a whisper, attributing her headache to the mix of alcohol and the fall to the floor. "Thanks for caring, doc" she adds with a smile on her lips, the alcohol still in her system making her more confident and unafraid to flirt with Abby.

A giggle escapes Abby's lips as she sees Ellie's attitude, who quickly shakes her head, assuring her that she's fine. Despite everything, Abby remains concerned, removing her hands from Ellie's face.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Abby whispers, avoiding Ellie's gaze. "Let me know if you feel worse or notice any other symptoms, tell me right away."

Abby's serious tone causes Ellie to snort, nodding obediently, letting Abby know she's listening. Perhaps Ellie misunderstood the situation, or her charms had no effect, or maybe her image lying on the floor wasn't the most attractive.

It's true, Ellie remembers with embarrassment the situation of being sprawled on the floor, completely mesmerized by Abby's image in front of her, caring for her without any ulterior motives. Shame washes over Ellie like the alcohol coursing through her veins, quickly sobering her to reality.

"Sorry..." Ellie mutters under her breath, unsure if Abby can even hear her, but she says it nonetheless, hoping to alleviate some of her humiliation.

Abby listens attentively, but she doesn't respond verbally, just nods quickly, seeking to reassure Ellie that everything is okay, unable to form a coherent sentence herself, longing for Ellie to regain her composure and speak again.

"Thanks for looking out for me. I really appreciate it..." Ellie speaks again, a small smile on her lips, which elicits a smile from Abby too, as if it were contagious, filling her with warmth.

Ellie attempts to rise from the ground on her own, bravely and abruptly, without worrying about the potential consequences, but before she can complete the action, Abby's hand extends towards her, offering assistance in a delicate manner that Ellie quickly accepts without hesitation.

"So... you're heading off alone now?" Abby asks, unsure if it's professional concern for Ellie's well-being or simply a desire to prolong their interaction a little longer.

Although Abby is adept at concealing her intentions, being reserved and formal, a woman who values her privacy, it seems impossible or challenging for anyone to read her and uncover her true motives. But this time, Ellie notices it, realizes it, and discerns the intention behind Abby's words.

Despite Ellie always leaving with her band, escaping from bars to be together, heading to another nightclub to continue the party, always repeating the same routine of getting drunk and picking up girls with the story of being in a band, Ellie nods her head slowly, a smile on her face for understanding what Abby truly means.

"I could use some more medical attention just in case," Ellie responds in an instant, too quick to seem disinterested, but still not trying to hide it beneath the guise of a small joke without taking it too seriously. "Will you walk with me?"

The words catch in Abby's throat, unable to speak as she sees Ellie's smile, her beautiful, freckled face, and that flirtatious yet timid intention mirroring her own. Unable to truly respond, Abby nods dumbly, quickly taking off her jacket and draping it over Ellie's shoulders, covering the sliver of skin exposed by the crop top.

[spire-of-ink]

Canard VIII

Canard VIII – I suddenly felt the breath in my chest.

The manor rose from the trees in twisting boughs. It was woven into them, from them, thick bark growing into branches that grew into a vast sloping roof of shingled leaves, that parted into elegant paned windows, that silently shivered with the valley’s woods as a natural part of it all. Though the deep woods were dark and brambles thick and thorned, sunlight mingled with candlelight from within, a beacon in the quiet shade.

Lorelei anticipated she would be nervous, but finding herself here, she realized there wouldn’t be any turning back; it steeled her with the resolve to go on. That what would be next would be, without question. She strode up to the plain wooden door before her and knocked.

No sooner than that then it opened, seemingly of its own accord; she peered in. It was surprisingly normal, if fancier than her family’s small farmhouse; candle flames danced flickering with calm afternoon sunlight through the high windows, all along the right wall, and an elegant scarlet rug lay across the floor. Lifelike paintings, of nature, of people, graced the left, where a staircase led up, and tome-lined shelves filled the rest of the space.

Save the middle of the room, where there was a small and worn-looking oak table, round and currently hosting both a teaset and a woman in one of the four ornate chairs, also wooden, also worn. She stared directly across the room to Lorelei, at the door, and sipped from a porcelain cup.

Now nerves got her, and she swallowed. But refused to be deterred now; Lorelei stepped in and shut the door politely behind her before bowing to the Witch from her waist. “Ma’am. I don’t wanna’ intrude.”

The lady at the table almost snickered. “You already have.” Her voice, old and soft, was at odds with her stunningly-youthful appearance. Dark and braided hair and nut-brown eyes, a simple gown in white and green, scarcely more than any farmhand would wear.

Lorelei awkwardly scratched her head. “Sorry, ma’am. You are… You’re the Witch of the Valley, right?”

“Is that the title, these days?” She huffed, sipping her tea again. “Suitable as any other, I suppose. Come in, unless you’re here just to waste time.” But she was smiling as she said it; her eyes were surprisingly friendly.

The farm-girl did come in, and at a gesture from her host, she sat down across from her.

“Tea?” the Witch asked, already pouring another cup for her.

“Oh, thanks. No sugar or anything.” Lorelei took it as it was offered, lifted the porcelain cup to her lips, and drank. It was earthy. Strong.

“So, what brings you to the valley?” The Witch appraised her plainly.

Lorelei looked her in the eye. Nodded once. “I wanna’ be a Witch.”

At this, the woman’s eyes glimmered almost ethereally; she cackled and set down her tea. Once she’d settled, she smiled and folded her hands on the table, looking at Lorelei once again. “And why is that?”

“I’ve been a farmer for all my life,” Lorelei answered, rehearsed but suddenly passionate. “I don’t wanna’ sit around and tend the family farm for the rest of my life. I want more. And rumors around town say you can give it.”

“Noose-End,” the Witch muttered, almost grumbled. “Rumors around there are as reliable as a leaky boat. Why would I teach anyone?” She grew serious, staring Lorelei down. “Why would I teach you?”

“I don’t have a reason,” she said back, glaring her down the same. “I just want to know what else is out there, and I’ve heard Witches learn that. I just… I want more.”

For a while, the woman across the table watched her. Then eventually smiled, both sharply and warmly. “You already are a Witch. You just need to learn what that means.”

“I’m… what?”

“What’s your name, child?”

“Lorelei. Lorelei Blackhand,” she inclined her head.

“Well, Lorelei Blackhand,” the Witch said, “Here’s your first lesson.”

She looked across eagerly.

“Never take tea from a stranger.”

“Oh…”

---

On the other side of the portal was a balcony. Lorelei saw the City span forever beneath her, spire lights shining under endless stars above, cars and people moving in photonic bursts like blood cells through innumerable veins. The gray stone balcony was limned with garnet roses, vines and thorns diamond-blue as they glittered by carnelian light cast from the opaque glass doors behind her, all crossed by lightning-course fingers of dark steel.

She took a better look at the doll, perhaps two-thirds her own height, alabaster exterior and black metal joints. Its eyes were flat, glassy but flat, scarlet clocks that ticked both forwards and back as they bore into Lorelei’s own gaze; she looked away, taking a few steps towards the balcony’s sculpted rails, admiring the view of the City below.

And, looking back, admiring the apparently endless tower that was the Library, stretching interminably towards the Night. She tried to estimate a position, halfway up, closer to the ground, whatever bearing she could grasp, but she failed; it was impossible to tell where the Library ended below and whether it had an end at all, at the top. Instead, Lorelei turned her eyes down and focused on the easel and canvas set just before her, framed by the City.

“Are you an artist?” The doll guiding her now, with the dark portal closed behind it, now looked up at her blankly.

Lorelei looked back down with a playful grimace. “Alas. I’m better at just about anything else,” she chuckled.

“What,” the doll asked, “Is art?” It stepped without pause nor qualm around her and went to the canvas, guiding Lorelei to also come stare at the blank slate, propped-up and ready for painting.

She scratched her head, thoughtful. “It’s something you… It’s like paintings, or sculptures, drawing. I guess you could say music, dance, writing, and things like that, too.”

“But what is it?” the doll asked again. Its eyes were fixed on the canvas.

Lorelei furrowed her brow. “Well… I don’t know.”

“Pick up the brush.” Its voice was not commanding, soft and empty and porcelain as its form, but it felt as if its words were inevitable.

Lorelei did notice it, the black-tipped paintbrush resting on the easel, just under the expanse of white above it; she picked it up, looking it over. Crystal, naturally, and seemingly the end was already dipped in paint. She squinted; what color was that? It swirled as she watched, seemingly all colors, none of them.

“Paint.”

She looked aside to her guide, and the doll returned her gaze, staring through her. Lorelei chuckled again, nervously, “Well, I’m not good, like I said, but… Alright,” and she set the brush’s tip to the canvas.

A splash of black. She saw the yawning woods in front of her. Slowly, eyes honing on the work, Lorelei spread the paint across. It shifted colors as she went. Orange, purple, a twin sunrise over the world; emerald, gold, rich blue, filling the fields with grain and sky with life; black again, deep black, smearing the colors of the world into contrast. Before she understood what she was doing, Lorelei stood before a finished painting.

Before her, a golden tree amidst a sunset, fields of burning wheat; it opened its maw wide, darkness spilling from it, transforming into smoke, transforming into a scape of stars, almost twinkling. And in the middle of the tree’s pitch hollow was a figure, unclear, but appearing as a white silhouette in the darkness, yet made of black within, holding a carnation.

Lorelei dropped the brush to the ground and stared at it. It was more beautiful than anything she’d ever made—its every stroke caught at the breath in her chest. Inside her, an indescribable motion bloomed.

The doll stood beside her, and also looking over the art, it asked its question again. “What is art?”

Now Lorelei turned to look back at it, and with tears in her eyes, she understood. “It’s your Heart, speaking,” she said softly.

It nodded once. “This one is Cynder Nevara Ciarda, Quill of Art. And you are Lorelei, a Witch without a title.”

“I had a title,” she said.

Ciarda nodded.

Lorelei frowned, “I can’t remember it.”

It nodded again. “You will.” Ciarda tilted its head, just slightly. “You want the record.”

Lorelei rose a brow, “How did you know?”

“It’s obvious. You are clever. And resourceful. Go to the Nether.”

She shook her head out and recovered, blinking back the scars opening in her. “Which is…?”

Ciarda pointed to the glass door leading back inside. “The Never’s evernet. The Library’s system. Cybil will help you.”

“Oh, well,” Lorelei stood straight, smoothed down her skirt, and smiled, just kindly to the doll. She had business to get to, evidently, and nothing else here. Time to move, as always. “Thank you. For the lesson, and the directions.”

“You’re welcome,” it said, staring.

Lorelei gave her a nod, turned to the door, and walked.

---

“She’s passed halfway.”

“Almost here, indeed. Sumiko?”

“Mm?”

“What do you think about her?”

“She’ll be important here. She may change quite a few things.”

“Next is Majoko, yes?’

“Correct. And?”

“Why don’t we make this more interesting?”

“A bet?”

“A game.”

“We’re already playing one. What else do you propose?”

“Why don’t we play with… them?”

“…You may have a point. Let’s begin.”