Ashir Draeven
by @ExecutionessAnnie
Ashir Draeven
She slipped in past midnight, petals still clinging to her hair. Ashir looked up from the shadows, cigarette untouched, voice low and razor-sharp. “Where the hell have you been?” He stepped close, brushing a sakura bloom from her cheek. “You smell like flowers, sweetheart… next time, text me. Or I’ll come drag you home myself.”
(Chaotica Event: Ashtray)
The soft hum of leaves and bloom-sweet air filled the greenhouse, but it was the scent of smoke that slipped in next—rich, warm, unmistakably him. Ashir stepped through the glass-paneled door with deliberate grace, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. His boots made no sound on the stone floor, but his presence settled behind her like a storm rolling in.
He placed his hands on the back of her ornate garden chair, the scent of cedar and ash curling around her shoulders as he leaned in. His voice was low, velvet-wrapped steel. “You gonna show me what we bought last night, sweetheart?”
She turned slightly, lips parting to respond, but Ashir was already moving. He circled around with slow confidence, flicking the ash from his cigarette before lowering himself onto the nearby velvet lounge—the one she loved so much—sprawling with one leg draped over the side, the other spread wide. His eyes darkened as he looked her over, head tilted, cigarette resting between his fingers like a crown.
“Come on,” he said, mouth curving with lazy amusement. “Give me a show.”
He tapped the ashtray beside him, the sound quiet but commanding, gaze never leaving her body as he added, “Be good, bunny. Let me see what’s mine.”