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seospicybin · 2 days

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I DARE YOU.

Felix x reader. (s)

Synopsis: The shy you meet the charming stranger, Felix, through a dare that leads you both into a whirlwind of a night filled with new, unexpected things. (17,6k words)

Author's note: It’s a late bday fic for Felix. I had soooooo much fun writing the smut in this one and I rarely said that so I hope you had fun too reading it x

Not this—being in a loud, dark club with Rex and her friends, a group of people you barely know, and the alcohol in your glass isn't any less foreign, a poor substitute for your usual chamomile tea.

A typical Friday night for you usually means snuggling on the sofa with your favorite blanket, a book in hand, and a cup of tea.

The music is thumping, the strobing lights flickering incessantly, and the sheer chaos of it all overwhelms your senses. It's overstimulating, like stepping into a world where you don't quite belong.

But here you are, trying to push past your comfort zone for one night, specifically for your best friend, Rex. You make the exception because it's her birthday.

You've known Rex since high school, and to this second, you're still not entirely sure how you two became best friends.

Rex is everything you aren’t—fierce, vibrant, and unapologetically confident—while you are introverted, shy, and awkward. Yet somehow, in that contrast, you found something that clicked. Maybe it's the way she effortlessly pulls you out of your shell or the way she always has your back without needing to say much.

For almost eight years now, this unlikely bond has stood the test of time, bridging the gap between your quiet, dull world and her wild, colorful one.

However, at times, the stark contrast between you and Rex pushes you to the edge. She thrives on excitement, constantly seeking new experiences, while you cling to routine. You like the comfort of predictability—having the same breakfast every day, enjoying the calm of your familiar surroundings. Rex, on the other hand, is always nudging you, sometimes even shoving you, to break free from that comfort zone. She wants you to explore, to live a little, and while you appreciate her intentions, it can feel overwhelming. She never seems to understand that trying new, exciting things isn’t natural for you the way it is for her.

Just like tonight. Rex has convinced everyone to play Never Have I Ever, and it quickly becomes apparent how out of place you are.

Every statement, every confession, is about wild, reckless things—everything you’ve never done. With each round, your glass remains untouched while everyone else takes shots, laughing as they reveal their mischievous pasts.

By the time the group is tipsy and lightheaded from confessing their wild and naughty escapades, you are still as sober as ever, quietly sitting there, feeling even more like a fish out of water.

Rex eventually notices your lack of participation. She puts down her glass and says, “Alright, this is getting boring. Let’s change the game!”

You notice her eyes flicking to you, and you feel your heart sink. “But I’m having fun,” you assure her, forcing an awkward laugh.

Your words are not entirely false. It isn’t like you aren’t having fun—it just isn’t your kind of fun.

Rex smirks, knowing you too well. She can see through your calm façade. “Sure you are. Alright, Never Have I Ever cheated on a test?"

Everyone else laughs, raising their glasses to take a shot, but your glass stays put.

“Guys, you shouldn’t cheat on...” your words trail off as you notice the looks they give you.

“See?” Rex says, turning back to you. “It’s not fun if you’re not participating.”

You scoff, but you can't really argue. It's true. The game isn’t exactly designed for someone like you.

“I’m still having fun,” you insist with a faint smile, but even you can hear how fake that sounds.

Rex lets out a sigh and scoots closer to you. “It’s my birthday, and I want my best friend to have fun on my birthday.”

One of her friends groans, putting her glass down with an exaggerated eye roll. “Whatever, I’m hitting the dance floor.” She slides out of the booth, and the rest follow, leaving you and Rex alone.

Maybe Rex’s birthday has become a bit boring because of you, but you told her before that you would’ve preferred a small gathering at your apartment, maybe just the two of you.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining your birthday,” you mumble, feeling guilty for being a party pooper and aware that it's unfair to her.

However, Rex’s attention has already drifted elsewhere—on someone, to be exact. She turns her head back at you with her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“He’s been checking you out,” she whispers against the loud music.

You snort and shake your head in disbelief, glancing in the direction she subtly nods toward, checking if she's telling the truth.

Across the room, a guy with bleached blond hair and tattooed hands sits casually, dressed in a leather jacket. His fair skin and delicate features are striking, but you can’t help but laugh to yourself. There is no way he is checking you out—not when Rex, your stunning, lively best friend, is sitting right next to you.

Before you can argue, Rex turns your head toward him. Your eyes lock with his instantly, and your heart skips a beat. You tell yourself it's just the loud, thumping music making your chest pound like that. He smiles faintly at you, and you quickly look away, feeling heat rise in your cheeks.

“Okay, new game!” Rex suddenly announces, clapping her hands.

You blink in shock. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just between you and me,” Rex says with a mischievous grin, taking a second to sip her drink.

You raise an eyebrow, wary of what she has in mind. “Okay...?” you respond nervously.

“Truth or dare,” Rex finally reveals, her eyes gleaming with trouble. “But here’s the twist—there’s no truth.”

“Rex, I don’t—” you begin, but she cuts you off by covering your mouth with her hand.

“It’s my birthday,” she says, her voice low yet commanding. “You’re obliged to do whatever I ask.”

You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Rex removes her hand and holds yours instead, her fingers cool and reassuring despite her devious smile.

“My dear best friend,” she says, that mischievous grin lingering on her red-painted lips, “I dare you to kiss that guy.”

Your eyes follow her finger, and it's pointing at the bleached blond guy with the tattooed hands across the room.

“What? No way!” You blurt out, eyes widening in shock.

“Come on! It’s just a kiss. You can do it," Rex says casually, showing how different the two of you view this dare. She then squeezes your hand and adds, "Besides, he’s been staring at you all night.”

Your heart pounds, not from the music but from the sheer terror of Rex’s dare. Kiss a stranger? In a club? You aren’t Rex—confident and fearless. You’re the girl who barely participated in Never Have I Ever because the wildest thing you’ve ever done is stay up late to study for finals.

“But I… I don’t know him,” you stammer, your palms getting sweaty on your lap.

“That’s the point of the game!" Rex says lightly. "And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed you. He smiled, didn’t he?”

The idea terrifies you, but there is also a small part of you—buried deep under all the shyness and caution—that is curious. What if you step out of your comfort zone for once? What if you do something wild, something you’d never do on your own?

As if she hears your thoughts, Rex leans closer and softly says, “You’ve spent your whole life playing it safe. It’s just one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glance back toward the guy. He’s still sitting there, calm and collected, his long bleached-blonde hair falling effortlessly around his face. He hasn’t looked away since your brief, flustered glance earlier. Instead, he seems… unfazed, but there’s something curious in his eyes, like he’s still watching, waiting.

“I can’t,” you mutter again, shaking your head, feeling that familiar wave of discomfort rise in your chest.

Rex leans in closer, holding your hand gently. “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to have fun for once, not think about everything so much. You trust me, right?”

Of course you trust her. Rex has been by your side for eight years, through thick and thin. As wild as she is, she always has your back, no matter what.

The logical part of your brain screams at you to refuse, to stay in your lane. But there’s another voice, quieter but growing louder with each passing second, telling you to just do it, to be bold, even if just for one night.

You inhale deeply, your hand still in hers, and with a shaky voice, you say, “Fine. But if I make a fool of myself, I'll kill you and leave your body in a ditch.”

Rex bursts out laughing, not finding your words threatening at all. “Deal! Now go get him, tiger!” she says, giving you a playful slap on the butt.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” you mutter under your breath, standing up on legs already turning to jelly.

You look over your shoulder and find Rex grinning, clearly delighted. As encouragement, she gives you a nudge in the guy's direction.

As you walk toward him, each step feels surreal, heavier than the last. It doesn’t take long before the guy notices you, and to your surprise, his faint smile grows.

When you finally stop in front of him, you don’t know what to say. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you regret even considering the dare. But despite everything, you hear your own voice ask, “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

There's no turning back now, and it’s not like he's the type to say no, not with the way he's looking at you—intrigued. And despite the panic in your chest, there’s something thrilling about the way he watches you.

He looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement, then his smile turns soft. “How could I say no to that?” he says, his voice surprisingly low and deep.

Not giving yourself time to overthink, you close the gap between you and him, leaning in as he does the same until your lips and his meet in the middle.

The kiss isn’t wild or reckless like you imagined it would be. It’s gentle, slow, and—much to your surprise—perfectly in tune with the moment. It feels like the first time you’ve ever kissed anyone, full of nerves, fluttering excitement, and the kind of tenderness you hadn’t expected from a stranger.

When you pull back, your hand flies to your lips, barely believing you’ve just done that. Your heart is still racing, but this time, it isn’t just from fear. You feel the thrill and rush of stepping out of your comfort zone, and you think... maybe you can push yourself a little more, just a little bit.

Absentmindedly, you open your mouth and ask, “Do you want to get out of here?”

It's a typical Friday night for Felix—hanging at the club with his friends, having a few drinks, casually watching the scene. The same kind of night he's had countless times. His eyes wander across the room, drifting from one group of people to another, and then… he sees you.

You're completely out of place, dressed in something someone would wear to church on Sunday, your glasses slightly sliding down your nose, sitting with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. The glass you're holding? He's pretty sure it's just an accessory for your idle hand. Then he observes the people you're with—they're clearly here to let loose and have fun, his usual type—the kind of girls who are bold and uninhibited. But you? You're different, and that’s what intrigues him.

Felix isn’t being judgmental. He knows everyone needs to blow off some steam once in a while, but there's something about seeing you in this environment that captivates him. You don’t belong here, not really, and yet here you are. The juxtaposition of your quiet presence amidst the chaos of the club fascinates him. He finds himself watching you without meaning to, drawn to how out of place you are.

Then, your eyes meet. You look right at him from across the room, and he doesn't look away. He holds your gaze, wondering if you’ll hold it too, but you drop your eyes almost immediately.

The shyness in that simple act is oddly cute because most girls he meets in places like this are bold, forward. They don't shy away from eye contact, but you? There is something sweet in your hesitance.

The second time you glance over, Felix notices a change. You're a little braver, and this time, you don’t just look—you stand up. Your steps are hesitant but purposeful as you cross the room, and before he can think too much about it, you're right in front of him.

“Do you mind if I kissed you?” you ask, your voice soft, small yet determined.

Felix raises an eyebrow, surprised but amused. He can’t help but smile at the way you asked for permission. Most girls don’t ask—they just do. But your politeness, your shyness, the way you're so out of place in this club yet standing in front of him, asking so sweetly—it's irresistible.

He looks at you, his smile widening. “How could I say no to that?”

A kiss has always just been a kiss for Felix—a simple way to satisfy some biological need, with no deeper meaning behind it. But this? This kiss doesn’t feel like that.

The kiss takes him back to something he hasn’t felt in years—the thrill of a first kiss. The kind that's innocent, pure, and full of nervous excitement. He can’t remember the last time he had a kiss that made him feel like this—something chaste but electrifying all at once.

As you pull away, Felix almost groans in protest. He wants more, needs more of that flutter, that spark. His lips tingle, and he can tell yours do too, as your hand flies up to your mouth as if you can’t believe what just happened.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice shy, but with a daring edge that Felix hadn’t expected.

Your charm is something else—shy and demure one moment, then bold and forward the next, endlessly fascinating him. There's just something about you that makes this feel less like a random encounter and more like something worth exploring.

Consider his curiosity piqued, eager to see where this unlikely encounter will take him next. He meets your gaze, a playful smile tugging at his lips, then he says, "Lead the way!"

You turn, feeling the heat of his presence close behind you as you make your way through the packed club. The noise slowly recedes, replaced by a focused, almost intimate atmosphere between you.

As you reach the exit, Felix places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. Once outside, the cool night air hits you, a refreshing contrast to the club’s stuffy heat.

Felix glances at you, his smile still in place, and asks, “So, what’s the plan?”

To be honest, you have no idea why you asked him out. You acted spontaneously, which is unlike you, but you know what you want. You crave the thrill and the excitement, and ultimately, more of that explosive kiss.

Without thinking, you reach for Felix’s arm, pulling him toward the dimly lit alley next to the club. The urgency between you both is palpable, the energy from that brief kiss still simmering just beneath the surface.

As soon as you're out of sight from the street, Felix pins you against a stack of old crates filled with empty beer bottles. His hands find your waist and pull you close. Your lips collide again, this time more passionate, more intense. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your fingers tangle in his long hair.

In the intensity of the moment, you lean back slightly, misjudging the proximity of the crate. Your head strikes the edge with a sharp thud, and the sudden pain makes you wince.

You gasp and accidentally break the kiss for a second, but you decide to laugh it off—you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tinted with concern.

“I’m fine," you say, half-laughing.

Felix smiles, though concern fills his eyes as he leans in close. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m—” you begin to blabber, wanting to resume the heated moment by leaning in for another kiss, but you immediately stop when you notice the shift in his expression.

His hand reaches up to the side of your head, and that’s when you feel it too—the warm, sticky sensation spreading through your hair. Then, he shows you his fingers, coated with your blood.

“I don’t think you're okay,” he mutters, his voice suddenly serious. “You’re bleeding.”

You can feel the adrenaline and embarrassment mingling as the pain begins to set in.

Felix gently touches your shoulder, trying to comfort you as he guides you away from the alley. “We need to get this checked out. We need to go to the hospital.”

Oh, no! This was supposed to be your night of finally breaking out of your shell, not a night where you make a fool of yourself in front of a hot guy.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t need to go to the hospital,” you insist, trying to brush off the situation.

He shakes his head firmly, but his hand remains gentle on the small of your back. “We’re getting this checked out. You can’t just ignore it.”

Without taking any of your excuses, Felix hails a taxi until one stops and pulls to the side of the road. He helps you get in, and on the ride to the nearest hospital, he checks on you every once in a while, asking if you're okay. His tatted hands and rough exterior are such a contrast to his gentle, attentive demeanor.

That only makes you hate how the night has taken a turn. The two of you could have done more than just kiss by now if it weren’t for you bumping your head on a stupid crate.

“Come back if you feel dizzy, nauseous, or if there’s a ringing in your ears,” the doctor says as she takes off her latex gloves, leaving the nurse to finish the rest.

Despite the night’s earlier excitement, you feel a tinge of embarrassment about the whole incident. You're thinking of faking a concussion just to stay the night in the emergency room, but you're aware that would only make him worry more about you.

Guess there's no other option but to push your way through this humiliation.

As you step out of the emergency room, you see him standing against the wall, looking impossibly cool in his rough leather jacket. With his striking features, he could’ve been doing a photo shoot for a magazine.

“Hi,” you nervously greet him.

The adrenaline has drained from your body, leaving you feeling deflated. It's like the girl who kissed a stranger in a dark alley has vanished, replaced by your usual shy, awkward self—plus, you now have a bandage on your forehead.

The magic of the night has faded, and you wouldn't blame Felix if he decided to leave now that he’s met the real you. He glances up from his phone, a soft smile stretching across his lips.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks, putting his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Three stitches, no concussion,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Felix sighs, visibly relaxing.

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me. I can deal with this myself,” you say, feeling a little guilty. He’s already done enough by helping you get to the hospital.

“I can’t do that,” Felix says, his voice steady.

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“I can’t just leave when you’re hurt,” he answers simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

That's such an unexpected answer from an unexpected man. He barely knows you, yet here he is, waiting outside an emergency room just to make sure you're okay. That thought warms you—but then it hits you: you don’t even know his name.

“Unless I’m actually concussed… do I know your name?” you ask with a shy laugh. “Or did we skip introductions?”

Felix chuckles, holding out his hand to you. “Felix,” he says, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver through you.

You take his hand, offering your name in return. “Nice to meet you, Felix.”

It's about to get awkward from here, you can feel it. The momentum of the night has stalled, and now you aren’t sure what to say or do. You like him, but it feels like the window to continue this spontaneous night has closed. Maybe it’s better to retreat.

“I’d better head home,” you mutter in defeat, but deep down, you hope the end of the night won’t feel as anticlimactic as it seems.

To your surprise, Felix straightens up from the wall and turns toward the exit. With a warm and genuine smile, he offers, “Let me take you home.”

As Felix stands outside the emergency room, leaning against the wall, he notices you stepping out, looking more like yourself again—shy, awkward, but also kind of endearing. He can see the hint of embarrassment in your eyes, like you're expecting him to vanish now that things aren't as wild as they were earlier. But you have no idea he isn’t that kind of guy, not when it comes to this.

You walk over, your voice soft and uncertain as you greet him, “Hi.”

“Hey. You’re okay?” he puts on a smile, relieved that you're okay.

“Three stitches, no concussion,” you answer, trying to play it down.

“That’s a relief,” he sighs.

Honestly, if anything worse had happened to you, he would’ve felt responsible, and he can’t live with that. Sure, his appearance might have given off the wrong vibe, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You need help, so he helps you.

“You know, you don’t even have to wait for me. I can just deal with it myself," you awkwardly clasp your hands in front of you and keep avoiding his eyes as you speak.

“I can’t do that,” he says; there’s no way he leaves you alone after everything.

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Felix doesn’t really have an answer to that, so he slowly shrugs and says, “I can’t just leave when you’re hurt.”

You give him this look, like you're trying to figure him out. He guesses you don't expect him to care, but he does, and that is that.

A moment passes in silence, and you shift awkwardly in front of him. “Unless I’m actually concussed... do I know your name, or did we skip the introduction?”

It only hits him now that you both indeed haven't introduced each other. He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Felix.”

You take it, and your hand feels warm and delicate in his. “Nice to meet you, Felix.”

You seem like you're about to wrap up the night, but he can see it in the way you're fidgeting, like you're ready to go but also unsure about how to end things.

“I’d better head home,” you mutter, your voice almost apologetic.

But Felix isn’t ready to end the night, and he can tell you don’t want to, either—you just don’t have the nerve to ask. And honestly, he doesn’t want the moment to slip away, so he decides to give you an out.

“Let me take you home,” he offers, and when your eyes meet his, he can see the relief flicker across your face.

When the taxi pulls up outside your apartment building, he watches you try to act cool, but he can tell you’re hesitating. You don’t want the night to end any more than he does, but you aren’t going to say it.

Felix has been with enough people to know when someone is too shy to speak up, and you are definitely in that space. He leans in slightly and asks, “Do you mind if I come in for a bit? I’m afraid I need to use your bathroom.”

Your face lights up with a smile you can’t hide, and he has to hold back a grin of his own.

“I don’t mind at all," you say, trying so hard to conceal the excitement in your voice.

The two of you head inside. You lead the way to your apartment, climbing the stairs, giving him a view of your back as the hem of your dress sways while you walk until you reach the fourth floor.

Thank God for that! If you climbed another flight of stairs, he would have followed his intrusive thoughts and dropped to his knees to peek under your skirt to see what kind of underwear you’re wearing.

Felix bets it's white, cotton, probably with cute floral prints. He shakes the thought away when you abruptly stop walking as you arrive at the front door of your apartment.

Once you unlock the door, you open it and step aside to let Felix in. He flashes you a smile as he steps in the small yet cozy apartment. He glances around and sees the pictures on the wall, mostly of you and a tall girl with curly brown hair. He remembers her as one of the girls you’ve been with at the club.

“The bathroom is that way,” you tell him, and Felix makes his way down the hall.

Once inside, he wastes a bit of time washing his hands, fixing his hair, checking the hair products, all the while giving you a moment to settle.

When he comes out, you’re in the kitchen, your hair now tied back into a low bun, exposing your neck and the soft tendrils of hair on the nape of your neck. You look… different, but still really cute.

“Would you like a drink?” you ask, sauntering your way to the fridge.

“Anything cold would be nice,” he answers.

You take two cans of soda out of the fridge, bringing them with you to the living room and sitting on the small sofa.

“Sit down, please,” you say, permitting him to sit in the space next to you since there’s no other place to sit.

“This is a nice apartment,” he comments, his eyes glancing around while his hand works the tab on his soda can.

“Thanks,” you mutter with a smile, holding the can of soda in both hands. It has been opened, but you're not drinking it.

"I can safely assume you live with a roommate?" he asks, then takes a gulp of his soda, which instantly refreshes him.

"Yes," you answer. "Rex, she’s one of the girls... back in the club," you awkwardly explain, confirming that he's right—she's the same girl from the club.

"Is it short for Tyrannosaurus—" he pauses for dramatic effect, "—Rex?"

You let out a chuckle and push your glasses up your nose. "Her real name is Rebecca, but she insisted on being called Rex because it's..."

"Sounds cooler?" he easily guesses.

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation, "and it's her birthday today, so..."

"That's why you were at the club?" he asks, slowly getting his curiosity answered.

"I think it's obvious that I wasn't there because of my own volition," you openly admit.

Felix can see it now—the way you seemed out of place back at the club. It isn’t your scene, and it makes sense now that you explained it is Rex’s thing. He hesitates, feeling a question burning in his mind, one that he needs an answer to, regardless of what it might reveal.

"And the kiss?"

Oh, no! Not this again.

Please don't say that Felix is actually interested in Rex and that he was checking her out instead of you. This wouldn't be your first time, but what a pity! What a pity it would be if that turned out to be true.

Until Felix asked about the kiss and whether it was Rex’s idea or not.

Your throat tightens, but you know you have to be honest. “Rex dared me to do it,” you admit, your words tumbling out faster than you wanted.

He nods, but you can see a flash of disappointment in his eyes—brief but noticeable. Before he can respond, you rush to explain the rest of the truth.

“But the one we shared in the alley? That was me. I wanted that,” you add.

Felix gives you the chance to explain more, so you continue, determined to make him understand. You put your can of soda on the table and inhale before speaking.

“Earlier, during this game Rex and her friends played, they were talking about all these wild things they’d done, and I just sat there... realizing how much I’ve missed out on.” You pause to let out a sigh as the weight of your confession settles between you. “I’ve spent so much time focused on studying, hitting all my academic goals, that I never gave myself the chance to live. And I don’t want to wake up one day full of regret for not taking chances.”

You look up from your lap at him—not necessarily meeting his eyes, or else you'll be a nervous wreck. “So tonight, I decided to push myself for once. The kiss might’ve started as a dare, but when I pulled you into that alley… that was real. For the first time in my life, I felt so alive.”

Felix remains quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours, taking in every word. You can feel his hesitation, though—a cautious distance. His concern isn’t just about your head injury; it's something more.

“You don’t have to do all that just because your friends have done it,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You do it when you’re ready.”

His words hit home, and you feel a wave of realization. The thrill and the pressure you’ve felt earlier are starting to clash with a deeper understanding of what you really want.

You may be naïve and know little about this intimate stuff, but you're also the one who knows you best, and you know what you want—you want this.

“I’m doing this for me. I want it. I'm ready," you unequivocally say, full of conviction.

Felix’s expression softens, but doubts linger in his eyes. “I think you know what kind of guy I am. I don’t do relationships. I… casually date. I’m not a good guy.”

You can’t help but smile at that, shaking your head in disagreement at his last statement. “You insisted on taking me to the hospital, waited until I got treated, and then made sure I got home safely. If that’s not a good guy, I don’t know what is,” you lay out all the facts on why he isn't what he says he is.

He sighs, clearly conflicted, running his hand through his long, bleached hair. “I’m just not sure if you really want to do this… with me.”

“I want to do this with you," you say without the slightest doubt.

There's a reason why he's here when he had his chances to walk out of this situation. He could have ditched you back there in the club, in the dark alley, or at the hospital. He could have gotten into that taxi and gone home, but instead, he chose to come in here.

Felix is quiet again, his eyes locked on yours as he considers what you said. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he lets out a sigh, letting the last bit of hesitation slip away from him.

"We should go to your bedroom," he says, his voice low but confident.

The excitement flares up in your chest, your heart racing as you rise from the sofa. This is it. The feeling you’ve been chasing all night—the sense of truly living, of stepping out of your comfort zone. You lead him to your bedroom, each step heavy with anticipation.

When you open the door to your bedroom, you pause for a moment, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It’s strange—no one ever warns you how personal it feels to show someone your bedroom. It’s not just a room; it’s a reflection of you, of your habits, your life. You close the door behind you, your breath catching as Felix steps in and takes a quick look around.

He glances over the shelves, where countless books are crammed into every available space. A small smile tugs at his lips, a look of slight amusement crossing his face as he takes it all in. It’s like he doesn’t expect this—your quiet, introverted world clashing with the chaotic energy of the night.

But then his eyes land back on you, and your pulse quickens. You’re alone now, really alone, in the privacy of your bedroom, and the reality of it all settles over you. You can feel the weight of the moment, not knowing how to begin but wanting to. You step closer to him, hoping he’ll take the lead.

Felix sits down on the edge of your bed, his eyes still on you. He pats the space beside him, an invitation, and you sit down next to him, nerves tingling under your skin.

"You have a very interesting room," he says with a playful smile, but there’s no mockery in his tone—only genuine surprise.

You shyly chuckle, your hands fidgeting in your lap. "Yeah, I’m… very aware."

He turns to you, his gaze softening. He’s studying you, taking you in, and when he looks into your eyes, you feel like he’s seeing something deeper. Then, as if realizing something, his brow furrows slightly.

“Can I take them off?" he asks, nodding toward your glasses. "Will you still be able to see without them?”

“I’m nearsighted, so yeah,” you confirm, your hand halfway to your face to take them off, but Felix gets ahead, gently removing them for you. Then he places them carefully on your bedside table.

The world around you becomes a soft blur, but Felix… Felix is in perfect focus. He’s all you can see. His delicate features stand out, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours, his freckles like tiny constellations dusting his cheeks and nose. It’s like he’s become the center of your universe, and nothing else matters in that moment.

You get a little overwhelmed as you take him in—his beauty so striking, so close, making your heart beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it too.

"Can I take your hair down?" Felix asks, his voice soft but deliberate.

Unable to provide a verbal answer, you nod. His hand is quick to reach behind your head, releasing your hair from the tie, and you feel an unexpected wave of relaxation wash over you, like the tension you’d been carrying all night had been held there, in your hair.

Felix’s fingers move through the strands gently, combing through them, letting the ends slip through his fingers. The tattoos on his hand catch your attention, and as his sleeve rides up, you notice even more ink snaking up his arm.

"How many tattoos do you have?" you ask, unable to hide your curiosity.

"I stopped counting a long time ago," Felix chuckles, a lightness in his voice that makes you smile.

He notices your lingering gaze on his tattoos, and without hesitation, he starts unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt. He lets the fabric fall back, giving you a clearer view of the designs that cover his skin. The sight of his muscles beneath the inked patterns, the veins trailing down his arm, captivates you.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" you ask, your voice quiet, unsure if it’s too bold.

"You can touch me," he says with an encouraging smile, "anywhere."

The last word unexpectedly provokes you; it was just a word until Felix gives it a new meaning now, and it's been echoing in the back of your mind in his deep, low voice. Anywhere.

With a tentative hand, you reach out, slowly rolling his sleeve up higher. The tattoos become more detailed—the lines and shading intricate—but what holds your attention is the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The combination of the ink and the physicality of him makes you feel a strange sense of intimacy. Afraid that you're overstepping, you let the sleeve fall back and flash him a smile of gratitude.

“You know this will be easier if you sit closer,” Felix says, his tone suggestive but gentle.

You shift closer, trying to keep your breath steady. The space between you shrinks, but the heat from his body seems to rise, making your heart race.

"Closer," Felix murmurs, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You move another inch.

"More," he says, his voice a bit firmer this time.

You scoot a little more until finally, there’s no space left between you. Your body is pressed against his, and the warmth from him feels overwhelming, your skin tingling from the proximity.

"I think you should put your hand around my neck," Felix suggests, his voice a low rumble.

"Are you sure?" you ask, still worried about overstepping.

"Of course," he reassures you, guiding your hand up to his shoulder.

From there, you let it drift to the back of his neck, feeling the strong line of muscle beneath your palm.

The two of you are incredibly close; you can feel his breath brushing against your cheek. As if the proximity isn't enough, his hand cups your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

It doesn't take a genius to know what comes next; you can feel it coming as the tension intensifies with each passing second.

"I'm not a good kisser," you blurt out, your insecurities successfully breaking through the haze of the moment.

"You did just fine earlier," he says, watching as his thumb swipes across your lower lip.

You try to argue, but before you can say another word, Felix presses a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving a searing warmth behind.

"Stop thinking and just..." he trails off, kissing just beneath your eye, sending a shock of sensation through you, "… do it."

Before you can process his words, his lips find yours. The kiss is electric and powerful, wiping away every doubt and insecurity. The world narrows down to the feeling of his mouth on yours, the sound of your breath mingling in the quiet of your bedroom.

Felix pulls away just enough for you to catch your breath, his hand moving to brush your hair to the side. He does it carefully to avoid accidentally touching the bandaged wound on your forehead.

"Now," he says, voice deep with desire, "we’re going to put in a little tongue."

Dazed and a little disoriented from the kiss, you nod, your brain unable to compute a word.

He kisses you again, this time slower, more deliberate, teasing you with his tongue as it slides across your lips. It’s sensual and intimate, and when you let him in, the kiss deepens, and you try your best to move in sync with him.

When Felix pulls away, he’s grinning, looking impressed. "See? You’re a natural."

Flustered, you look down, but he isn’t having it. He wants your eyes, your full attention on him, so he puts his hand under your chin, gently angling your face back toward his.

Not giving you a moment to think, he plants a kiss on your lips again—gently, but there’s intensity to it, a sense of hunger that needs to be satisfied.

At the same time, his other hand travels down to your back, tracing down your spine before he withdraws it back to your front, reaching for the button of your dress.

You've been handling it well so far, but when he touches you there, it triggers the alarm bells in your head. You try to convince yourself that it's okay; you trust Felix, and he's not going to harm you, but your body abruptly freezes, and you stiffen against him.

Felix notices immediately and takes his hands off of you, concern painted on his small face.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, not wanting to alarm you further.

First, it was Rex’s birthday party, and not long after that, you did it again by bumping your head during a makeout session in the dark alley, and now this. You sigh and look down at your lap, wondering why you keep sabotaging your life like this.

"I’m sorry, I just... I–I wasn’t ready for that," you meekly say, looking down at your lap, feeling embarrassed.

"That’s okay," he says with a soothing voice. "I’d rather you tell me when you’re uncomfortable."

Anyone else might have been annoyed or disappointed, but Felix—he’s patient, gentle, and very understanding. You feel a rush of gratitude for him.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding.

"Or you can just slap me next time," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Slapping his face would feel like vandalizing the Mona Lisa, so you shake your head in strong disagreement while softly laughing, "No. I wouldn’t do that."

Thanks to you freaking out without reason, you have to start all over again, and you can only hope that Felix has some patience left for you.

You watch as he glances toward your bedside table, eyeing the small stack of books. "Are these the ones you’re reading?"

"Yeah," you reply, your smile returning.

"You’re telling me you’re reading five books at once?" he asks. His tattooed fingers trail along the spines as he reads the titles under his breath.

"Three are for school," you say, chuckling, "but the other two are for fun."

"Oh, so you do know how to have fun," he teases you with a charming smile that makes his eyes lively.

You know he's trying to lighten the mood, and you feel thankful that he indeed still has some patience left in him.

Felix picks up the smallest one from the top of the stack and flips through the pages. "Poetry," he remarks.

"Yeah," you nod, feeling a bit shy.

He looks at you with something new in his eyes. "Would you read me one?"

"A poem?" you stammer.

"No, the index page," he teases you yet again.

You laugh, feeling a bit silly for asking, and then take the book from him. You open it, easily finding the page you marked as your favorite poem.

"Okay... I’ll try," you say as you clear your throat.

Your fingers nervously brush the edges of the page, eyes glancing at the words, but you’re aware of Felix’s gaze on you. His presence is overwhelming—his closeness, the subtle intensity in his expression.

Despite everything, you begin reading, your voice low and a little shaky.

"Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too near."

Felix leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand moves to the back of your neck, brushing the loose strands of your hair away.

You pause, feeling the pressure of his nearness, but he nudges you gently.

"Keep reading," he whispers against your skin, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. Your voice is a little shaky as you continue.

"Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers; you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens—"

Felix’s lips press softly against the corner of your mouth just as your voice falters. You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but his kiss lingers, feather-light and teasing.

You glance at him, the lines of the poem slipping from your mind.

"Go on," he murmurs, his mouth now brushing your jawline. His hand slips to your waist, holding you in place as if keeping you tethered to the moment.

"I... I—" you stammer, your focus crumbling under his touch, his lips trailing a path down to your neck. You grip the book tighter, trying to maintain the thread of the poem, your voice coming out as a breathy whisper: "you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose—"

Felix presses another kiss just below your ear, making your breath hitch. He’s being gentle but deliberate, his lips grazing your skin with an intention that makes it almost impossible to concentrate.

Your heart bursts, the words on the page becoming blurry. "Felix..." you murmur, caught between the poem and the sensation of his kisses.

"Don’t stop," he whispers again, this time against the curve of your neck, sending a rush of warmth through you. "I want to hear the rest."

Your voice quivers as you try to continue, the lines of the poem mixing with the feeling of his lips.

"Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending—"

His kisses grow slower, more languid, as if savoring every inch of your skin. Each one draws you further away from the poem, your pulse quickening under his touch. He pulls back just slightly, and his eyes meet yours, his gaze heavy with desire, but still, he urges you on.

"Finish it," he says softly, his thumb tracing your lower lip as he holds your gaze.

You exhale shakily, barely able to focus anymore, but you try.

"Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility..."

Before you can finish the last line, Felix’s lips capture yours, cutting off the rest of the poem. His kiss is deeper this time, not asking for permission but claiming the moment as his own. The book slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lean into him, your breath mingling with his.

The poetry becomes a distant memory as his kisses consume you, every touch drawing you further into him. And for the first time, you don’t feel the need to pull back or hesitate. You melt into the moment, into him, as the poem fades into the background, replaced by the quiet intensity of Felix’s lips on yours.

The poem may be incomplete, but the moment is whole.

Felix watches as you fumble with the edges of the poetry book, your nervousness plain in the way your fingers tremble. He can sense how hard you’re trying to focus, trying to find your voice in the moment.

There’s a certain charm in how unsure you are, the way your eyes keep darting up to him, like you’re looking for some kind of permission. But he knows you don’t need it. You want this—he can feel it in the air between you.

When you finally start to read, your voice is soft, hesitant.

“Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence...”

Felix can barely concentrate on the words. It’s your voice—that shaky, uncertain quality—that pulls him in, and you’re so close. He leans in, pressing the warmth of his lips against your cheek, testing, teasing. He feels the way you stiffen, your breath catching. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but the urge to touch you, to close that gap, is too strong.

"Keep reading," he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin, barely above a whisper. He feels your pulse quicken beneath his touch.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice even softer now, trying to hold it together.

"Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers..."

As your voice trails off again, Felix can't resist. His lips graze the corner of your mouth, light and fleeting. He watches your eyes flutter, sees the way you're barely hanging onto the thread of the poem, and it makes him smile inwardly. He pulls back just enough to see the heat in your cheeks, the uncertainty fighting with desire in your eyes.

"Go on," he urges, this time pressing his lips to the soft skin just beneath your jawline. His hand slips to your waist, fingers curling lightly around you, holding you steady, grounding you as he teases.

"I–I..." Your voice falters completely as his lips trail lower, brushing the sensitive spot near your neck.

He loves the way you stammer, the way your breath comes in shallow gasps.

"You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens—"

Felix hears your voice waver again, and he chuckles softly against your neck. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The poem doesn’t stand a chance against his kisses, but he likes this game, this slow unraveling of your composure.

"Felix..." you murmur, barely able to hold onto the words.

He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your ear. "Don’t stop." His voice is low, coaxing, as he brushes another kiss just below your ear. "I want to hear the rest."

You try—he can see you trying—but the way you tremble beneath his touch makes it almost impossible for you to concentrate. He watches you struggle, a mix of amusement and desire in his gaze as you fight to continue.

"...Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully..."

Felix’s lips move slowly across your skin, savoring every inch. He can feel the tension in you, the way you’re holding onto control by a thread. But then, something shifts. He presses one last kiss to your neck, soft and lingering, and watches as your resolve crumbles. The book slips from your hands, your breath hitching in your chest.

“Finish it,” Felix whispers, his thumb grazing your lower lip. He can see the words have all but left you, but he waits, eyes fixed on your trembling lips.

"...The power of your intense fragility..."

Before you can finish the line, Felix presses his lips to yours. The words are lost as he kisses you, claiming the moment. There’s no hesitation in the way your body responds, melting into him as if you’ve been waiting for this all night. The book falls from your hands, forgotten, as his hands move to pull you closer.

He feels the way you surrender to the kiss, how every bit of uncertainty you held before dissolves. His kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, until he pulls back just enough to look at you, lips still close, your breaths mingling.

Felix takes a quick check to see if you're comfortable enough to continue, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he leans his forehead against yours. He can feel the way you’re still caught in the moment, still wanting more.

His hand slides down to your shoulder, tracing the curve of your spine. He brushes your hair to the side, kissing you again—slower this time, deeper. The way you respond, your lips meeting his with growing confidence, only pulls him in more.

Felix takes your hand and gently places it on his chest. He feels the way your hand stays immobile for a moment, but then it starts to move, roaming curiously over his body. Your touch is tentative but warm, and soon enough, your fingers tug at the opening of his shirt, revealing a peek of inked skin underneath. Felix notices the way your curiosity lights up your face. “Do you want to see the rest of my tattoos?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you think about it, unsure if you should say yes. To avoid letting him hear how eager you are, you nod instead.

“But you have to help me with the buttons,” he says, glancing down at his shirt.

It’s a subtle invitation, but the way he says it makes you feel like you’re in control. You start undoing the buttons, one by one, your fingers working carefully, as if each button is a gateway to something unknown. When you finish, you stop, leaving the fabric still draped across his chest. There’s a moment of hesitation, as if parting the shirt will reveal something too intimate, something more than just skin.

Felix senses your nerves, so he does the rest; he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the ink that covers his chest and arms. Normally, he’s confident about his body, but under your gaze, he feels a flicker of vulnerability. You’re studying him, and he can feel the weight of it, like you’re looking past the surface.

“It’s all over you,” you mutter in awe.

One, in particular, seems to draw your attention—the dragon on his ribcage. Felix notices the way your hand lingers there, eyes fixed on the intricate design. He smiles softly, taking your hand and pressing it gently against the dragon.

“Here... feel it,” he says, guiding your touch.

Your fingers trace the lines of the tattoo, feather-light and full of wonder. Every slight graze of your fingertips sends a rush through him, and the way you’re touching him so delicately is like you’re trying to memorize the feel of each tattoo.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“I had no idea I liked tattoos until now,” you innocently answer.

There's something so honest in your words, and Felix can’t help but smile, feeling the tension between you shift into something deeper, more intimate. He watches you as your fingers continue to explore, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a kind of peace in this closeness, like it’s more than just physical. There’s something in the way you touch him, like you’re seeing him for the first time—not just his body, but all the stories inked into his skin.

Then you take your hand back and fidget in your seat. You open your mouth, but no words come out. After a while, you ask, “Should I undress?”

“Only if you want to,” he says, not wanting to pressure you and also trying to make it clear that this is on your terms.

With a shy nod, you start moving, fingers flying to the buttons of your dress, fumbling a little in your nervousness. Felix notices and, sensing your discomfort, turns his head away, giving you the privacy you need. He helps by dimming the lights on your bedside lamp, knowing that a girl like you prefers the softer glow to ease the tension. Now, the room is bathed in a quiet, warm light, making everything feel more intimate, more comfortable.

“Do you need help?” he offers after a moment, his back still to you.

“I’m done anyway,” you respond, your voice softer now.

Felix hears the faint sound of your dress hitting the floor, and he inhales, preparing himself for what he's going to see. He turns his head slowly, careful not to look directly at you until he’s sure you’re comfortable. His eyes first meet yours, searching for any sign that you’re nervous, that you want him to stop, but you hold his gaze, and that’s all the permission he needs. His eyes travel down, finally taking in the sight of you.

The first thing that catches his attention is the unexpected—the matching silk and lace set you’re wearing, soft and delicate against your skin. It’s a contrast to the image he had in mind, and it takes his breath away. The colors, the fabric—it all highlights your natural beauty in a way that almost overwhelms him.

Beautiful. That’s the only word that comes to mind, but even that feels like it doesn’t do you justice. You’re beyond that. You’re captivating in a way that makes him hesitant to even touch you, as if the act itself would somehow break the spell between you.

“I want to touch you,” he admits, his voice trembling with restraint, overwhelmed by how much he desires you but not wanting to rush.

“Okay,” you say, so simply, so openly.

The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming. Felix is sitting there, shirtless, and the way he’s looking at you makes your skin tingle. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

After a while, you finally manage to speak. “Should I undress?”

Felix’s gaze is soft, his voice gentle when he responds, “Only if you want to.”

His words reassure you, but still, your hands tremble as you reach for the buttons on your dress. You fumble with them, nervous fingers struggling to move faster. Felix, sensing your discomfort, turns away, giving you a moment to compose yourself. It’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel better, like he understands without needing to be told.

You manage to undo the last button, letting the dress slip down your shoulders and fall to the floor with a soft thud. You glance at Felix, and he still isn’t looking. He’s turned the light down, creating a softer, warmer atmosphere that eases some of the tension in your chest. It’s as if he knows that you’d rather not be fully exposed in the harsh glow of bright light.

“Do you need help?” he asks, his voice careful, like he’s afraid of pushing you too far.

“I’m done anyway,” you reply, your voice shaky but steady enough.

Felix exhales, turning back to face you slowly, almost cautiously. He looks into your eyes first, making sure you’re okay before letting his gaze travel down. When his eyes finally take in the sight of you, you see something shift in him. His expression softens, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost painfully so.

You weren’t sure what he’d expect to see, but the look on his face—like he’s in awe—makes you feel beautiful in a way you’ve never felt before. You're wearing your favorite matching set, silk and lace, in a color that contrasts perfectly with your skin. You chose it thinking you might need something that makes you feel confident, but now, under Felix’s gaze, you wonder if it was the right choice. But then you see the way he looks at you, like you’re something precious, and all your doubts melt away.

“I want to touch you,” Felix says softly, his voice trembling, almost as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

“Okay,” you answer, trying to sound calm even though your heart feels like it’s about to explode.

Felix doesn’t rush. His movements are slow, deliberate. He brushes your hair aside, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His knuckles trace down your chest, stopping at the center, right between your breasts. His hand rests flat there, and you feel the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, the beat of your heart thudding loudly under his touch.

“You're so beautiful,” he softly murmurs as he looks into your eyes.

You can feel heat spreading across your face. You want to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you just look down, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, by how gentle and caring he’s being.

Felix leans in, and when he kisses you, it’s not rushed. His lips are soft, and the kiss is gentle, as though he’s trying to coax you out of your shell. You kiss him back, a little more confidently this time, the warmth of his body pressing against yours making everything feel more natural.

The more time you spend with Felix, the more certain you feel that you’re in the right place, with the right person. His presence is calming, his touch patient and careful. Every kiss, every gentle brush of his hand against your skin reminds you that he’s giving you all the time in the world. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push you beyond what you’re ready for, and that thought alone is enough to make your heart swell.

Felix holds back so much—it’s evident in the way he slows his movements, adjusting to your hesitance, waiting for you to catch up, to feel comfortable. You notice how he looks at you, always checking, always making sure you’re okay with what’s happening. He’s so understanding that you can feel your insecurities start to melt away, one by one, like the weight of them no longer matters in this space you’ve created together.

As the kissing becomes more intense, your breathing picks up, and the room feels warmer. You feel his strong yet gentle hand resting on your shoulder, his fingers playing with the strap of your bra, and you know what comes next.

This time, you decide to take the initiative and ask, “Do you want me to take these off?”

“If you allow me to,” he answers with a soft smile.

You’ve always known your body isn't the kind men fantasize about, or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. “They’re not—They’re not my best features,” you meekly admit.

Felix’s eyes don’t waver, and his smile turns into a playful smirk, one that both teases and comforts at the same time. “How can I know for sure when I haven’t seen them?”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips; he has a fair point, and you can’t argue with him when he looks at you like that—like he sees you, not just the parts you want to hide.

You nod, giving him permission, and lean forward slightly to make it easier for him to reach behind you. His fingers find the clasp of your bra almost immediately, without hassle.

The sound of it unclasping makes your breath hitch, anticipation swirling in the air between you, and then he pulls back just enough to let the bra fall away, his fingers gently sliding the straps down your shoulders. His movements are slow, with excitement simmering underneath, as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift.

And then, you’re bare in front of him, vulnerable in a way that sends a nervous thrill through you.

Felix doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He doesn’t gawk or make you feel exposed. Instead, he looks at you with a soft, quiet admiration that makes your heart flutter.

“They're perfect,” he says, and the sincerity in his praise makes your insecurities seem small, insignificant.

Felix's breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, bare in front of him. The soft curves of your chest stir something deep inside him, and for a moment, he has to hold back from letting his hands act purely on impulse. He swallows hard, trying to keep his cool, even though the urge to touch you is overwhelming.

“They’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice rougher than he intended. He means it. It’s not about size or shape—he just likes seeing you, just like this.

If he's being honest, you’re not what Felix thought he always wanted. But now, with you in front of him, he finds himself thinking that you’re more than enough—perfect, in fact.

He lets himself lose a bit of that self-control, his hand reaching out, grazing your skin before cupping your breast, his gentle yet curious fingers exploring the softness of your chest. They fit perfectly in his tattooed hands, and he feels heat rising in him.

“See? They’re perfect,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if to prove the point.

You remain quiet as he touches you, but your eyes go wide, lips parting slightly, and then, unexpectedly, you run your palms over your own breasts, fingers grazing your nipples with a restless, almost nervous motion.

The sight of you touching yourself, so innocently but also with that hidden desire, nearly drives him over the edge. He has to clench his jaw to stop himself from groaning aloud.

"Why are you looking at them like that?" you curiously ask in a shy voice.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice deep and low, almost a growl as he leans in closer, needing to hear you say it.

“Like you want t-to…” You hesitate, stumbling over your words.

“Lick them? Suck them?” he finishes the sentence for you, the words falling from his lips with an intensity that makes you look down at your lap, cheeks heated.

You nod, too shy to say it aloud.

Felix exhales slowly, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Come here!” his voice is rough, almost commanding as he gestures for you to sit on his lap.

Biting your lip, you crawl onto him and sit right on his lap.. You freeze for a moment, probably feeling his hard flesh prodding under you.

"You can ignore that," he tells you, at least for now, but he knows both of you can’t ignore that for long.

Somehow, that thought worries him, and he expected you to sit stiff as a board on his lap, but you immediately settle in close, and when he puts his arm around you, you let out a ragged sigh, instantly melting into him.

Fuck, you're so close, especially that part of you, hanging so close to his mouth. He gulps air and reminds himself to take things slowly. This is about you, not him.

You put your hand under his arm and grasp at his back, your hard nipples grazing his chest in the process, and Felix can’t resist cupping your breasts and rubbing his fingers over them.

Soon, your body softens around him, but his hands grow rough as he touches you, molding you to him as he claims your mouth. The kiss is a savage thing of teeth and tongues, but there’s no hint of protest from you. Instead, you match his roughness for roughness, kissing him back until you run out of breath.

As you come up for air, he covers your nipple with his mouth and sucks hard. He pulls you close so he can do the same with the other one; this time, he has your nipple rolling on his tongue. Oh, he can do it all night, just playing with your soft mounds.

Your fingers make their way through his hair, tugging at it as you arch your back with unconscious demand. It's apparent that you love this, losing your mind over his touches.

Felix lets go of your breast, then drags his lips upward, climbing the column of your throat until they find yours, kissing your mouth with such intensity that it causes you to sharply inhale air.

As he's kissing you, his hands refuse to remain idle. He cups your breasts, stroking the buds until they ache and pinches them, sending a burst of sensation straight to your core. With caution, he takes it to the next level, shifting his focus to another sensitive part of you. He's smoothing a hand over your stomach, and he can feel your muscles clench. Cautiously, he slides a hand up your inner thigh.

“I want to touch you here,” he says while gently palming your sex with a bold grasp, and the heat of his touch spreads through the fabric of your panties, searing hot.

Your hand immediately flies to grip his wrist, intending to pull him away, but your hand stays there; if anything, you pull it back and let it rest on his inked forearm.

“Is that permission?” he whispers into your ear.

He sees the conflict in your eyes. He guesses the reason you hesitate is that this is new to you, and you don't know how to handle this side of yourself. After a while, your body wins over your hesitant mind as your hips arch against his hand, asking him to continue, asking him for more.

He pushes your underwear to the side, and as he kisses your neck, his fingers trace your bundle of nerves, circling it, then applying the gentlest of pressure to test whether you like it or not.

A low moan slips out of you, and he can feel you tugging at his hair, hard.

"Do you want me to keep my hand there?" he asks as he looks into your dazed eyes.

You innocently nod.

"All right. I'll do that," he says with a hasty kiss on your lips. He continues by tracing your slick entrance with his fingertips, touching you there lightly, trailing around and around in dizzying circles.

"Does that feel good?" he asks, barely audible.

Still unable to give him a verbal answer, you nod again.

He aims his parted mouth toward your neck and purposely scrapes his teeth against your skin before he licks and kisses you there, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin.

"Will you let me get inside?" he asks for permission as his fingers tease your entrance.

It's obvious that you want it from the way you're arching your hips against his hand, but he doesn't want to risk losing you to the nerves again; he needs to hear you say it this time.

"Yes," you breathlessly say with a small nod.

With your consent given, his fingers search through your folds, coating them with your essence, and he lingers around your entrance for a little while before pushing one finger into you.

He feels your sharp intake of air as your head rests so close to his, your teeth faintly biting your lower lip to muffle the noises you make.

Felix gives you time to adjust before adding another digit. Two fingers are inside you now, pumping them, and he curls them, finding that spot that makes you...

"Oh!" you gasp, your hand grasping at the end of his hair like it gives you a lifeline. Your legs tremble, causing you to lose your balance, and you almost topple back, but Felix is quick to grip your waist to keep you steady.

The whole thing is so cute. Felix rubs his lips to hide a grin as you steady yourself on his lap and fold your hands in your lap. He knows that if he continues, you’d likely fall to the floor. You're the kind of girl who gets weak when you get hot, and don’t get him wrong; he loves that. If anything, it makes every bit of effort it has taken to get past your guard worth it.

"It's better if we lay down," he suggests as he removes the strand of hair caught between your lips.

"Okay," you say, your voice small and filled with obedience.

Once you get off his lap, Felix takes the lead again. He stretches out near the center of the bed, propping himself up on an elbow, and pats the space next to him. No moment of hesitation this time, you crawl across the bed and lay down next to him.

Felix leans over you and kisses you, starting right back at the beginning with innocent brushes of both of your lips and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again. He wouldn't say you're that great of a kisser, but it's entertaining feeling you learn. You may lack in skill, but you make up for it with your eagerness.

He puts your hand on his bare chest, letting you roam free from there; he needs you to feel him too, how his body heats all over from his desire for you. You drag your hand down his chest, fingers trailing the hard ridges of his abs, and then you keep heading down south, meeting the waistband of his jeans.

Felix is unprepared when your hand suddenly goes to his crotch and strokes over the fly of his pants. Pleasure courses through him, and his cock jumps in excitement, a hoarse groan slipping out of his parted mouth.

He remains calm even though you've just awakened a part of him that he wants to keep tamed, for now. He notices the curious hand and then the curious eyes.

"Want to touch it?" he offers, his eyes half shut, heavy with lust.

"Can I?" you ask back instead of answering.

It's about time to set it free anyway; his jeans have been tightening around the crotch for quite some time. He unzips the fly open, then tugs at the waistband of his jeans and pulls it low enough to let his swollen member out of its confines.

Your hand lingers on his abdomen, hesitating to put your hand on the thing you're curious about.

He takes your hand, puts it on his cock, and then makes you close your fingers around it. The sight of your soft, delicate hand wrapped around his cock makes his heart thrumming inside his chest.

"This is my cock," he says, trying to keep his voice calm.

He guides you to stroke your hand on it, pumping it up and down his length, showing you the pace he prefers: slow but steady. "I want you to tell me when you want it."

You swallow air and look down to see that he's no longer guiding you; you're stroking his cock on your own, and he must say, you're doing so good at it.

He returns the favor by reaching down between your legs, touching you there again. His fingers meet your wetness, hot and slippery, tantalizing him.

After a moment, he decides to hover above you, letting go of your lips to start making a trail of kisses down your front. Your chest is heaving as he gets closer to your core, but he does the unexpected by detaching his mouth.

"Do you mind if I take this off?" he asks, fingers tugging at the elastic band of your underwear.

You lick your swollen lips and lowly mutter, "No."

He flashes you a soft smile before doing what he asked. His palm scrapes up the outside of your leg as he pulls your underwear down. You help by lifting your hips to make it easier for him to take it off.

Felix stands at the end of the bed with your underwear in his hand. He lets you watch as he takes a long sniff of it; you smell so heavenly that he wants this smell all over him. But first, he has to make it fair. He takes his jeans off along with his underwear, exposing his naked body in all its glory for you—just for you.

In return, he gets to see all of you, your body wrapped in miles and miles of soft skin. His eyes feast on every part of you, but you cross your thighs together, blocking him from seeing the thing that tantalized him all night.

He runs his tattooed hands down your legs, offering you his warmth and comfort as a way to assure you that he wants nothing but to make you feel good. When he deems you're relaxed enough, he parts your legs open, and his eyes widen as if he sees something that goes beyond what his brain can comprehend.

"You're so wet for me," he says, swallowing air as the sight suddenly makes his throat dry.

Felix satisfies his need by taking a closer look at it, his eyes darkened and fixated on the thing that endlessly tantalizes him. He licks his lips in reaction to the overwhelming urge to taste you.

He uses his thumb to circle your clit, which engorges with every motion. "It wants my mouth so badly," he tells you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust.

Felix presses his cheek to your inner thigh and, ever so softly, places a long kiss on the skin. It's close to where he wants to be but not enough. His need grows desperate.

"Put us both out of our misery and let me taste you."

Felix is perfect. He stands there like carved stone, but his skin is smooth and hot to the touch, firm but giving, alive. His muscles hunch and shift as he moves, and the dragon tattoo winks at you as he steps out of his pants; the motion alone is so sexy.

This is Felix in all of his naked glory. He is perfection, even that part of him—gosh, especially that part of him. His erection demands your full attention, hard and veiny, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. You have never given a man oral sex before, but your mouth waters at the sight of it. You want it.

You can’t remember how to breathe as he puts his tattooed hands on you, rubbing them up and down the outside of your legs, making you tingle down there. You see how he quietly inhales air before parting your legs open and lets all the air out of his mouth as he shifts his eyes to see what's between your legs.

It's the most private part of you, and you expect him to see it in disgust, but the way he looks at it... you see nothing but pure admiration. He puts his focus there, needing more time to process what he's seeing.

"You're so wet for me," he says, barely audible as he holds his breath.

He bends down close to your wet flesh, making your nervousness spike to heart-pounding levels, and his eyes never stray away from what he wants. Then his thumb meets the peak of your sex, gently rubbing it, and you quietly moan under your breath.

"It wants my mouth so badly," he says, receiving your body's signals too well.

The little kisses he places on your inner thighs feel soft, but you can see that it's not quite what he wants; he's so close to it, yet he handles his self-control really well.

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, they immediately find yours. Then he murmurs, "Put us both out of misery and let me taste you."

It hits you now that he truly wants this, you. He likes what he sees, and his craving for your most private parts is real. It's dirty but highly erotic and exciting. You want to give it to him; you do, but you doubt that the reality will meet his expectations.

“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it and I don’t respond like other women?” you ask, feeling a little anxious, thinking that you’re about to ruin the moment. Again.

“If you don’t like it, then we’ll move on,” he simply says, spreading your legs wider and then landing a gentle, closed-mouth kiss on your clit, catching you off guard.

Your body stiffens for a second, not expecting that sensuous jolt, and then you relax in the next second.

"Hate that?" he asks with wistful, downturned eyes.

"I..." You still can't decide if you like it or not; you need more—

Felix lands another kiss, followed by a slow tasting of his tongue on it. He hums his approval and covers your sex with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laps over your clit, repeatedly.

Your mind shuts down; your body slowly goes limp as heat blooms inside you, and your face buries in the blanket as the pleasure intensifies. This feeling is new to you; your body is in a state of shock from the immense sensations, and you feel like you're about to cry when he abruptly stops.

"You don't like it?" he asks after getting no answer from you. "Let me try it another way..."

Felix pushes two fingers into you, and your eyes roll to the back as he begins a steady pace, combining it with his tongue flickering over your cunt, and somehow, you can’t stop your hips from rising to meet his thrusts.

Oh God! You're riding his hand and smothering his face with your wet cunt. You tell yourself to stop, but you can't; you find your hands tangled in his long, bleached-blond hair instead. You're tightening around him, so wet now you can hear the slippery sounds every time he pumps his fingers into you.

"I'll stop," Felix says as he licks his glistening wet lips, then rubs his tongue over you fast and hard, making you clench helplessly around his fingers.

"Felix..." you breathlessly call his name. You can't believe how needy you sound—almost pathetic even.

"One last taste..." Felix says before planting his mouth on you again. He sucks with perfect pressure, his tongue cleverly dragging out the pleasure to keep your release out of reach. He presses a parting kiss to your sex and lifts his head, stopping for real this time.

"Yeah, you look ready now," he says it so low it's almost like a whisper.

Truthfully, you've been ready for a while now, and you love the idea of demanding his... cock and him providing it; you just can’t get those words past your lips.

Apparently, the look on your face tells it all. As he props a hand next to your waist, he looks at you and asks, "Do you want it?"

You stifle a nod, and you're aware that's not enough to convey how much you want it.

His hand reaches for the strand of hair covering your face and asks again, "Do you want it now?"

Want, want, want. You eagerly respond in your head, but you force yourself to remain calm and say, "Yes."

Felix nods and lands a kiss along your jaw, then drags his lips close to your ear. With a hoarse voice, he whispers, "I'll give it to you."

His warm, soft yet firm body blankets yours as his lips bombard you with kisses, each kiss peeling away your senses along with your worries and insecurities; you eventually stop thinking altogether.

"Excuse me for a second," he says with a kiss on your lips, getting off the bed to look for something on the bedroom floor.

As Felix picks up his jeans from the floor, you watch the muscles on his back bunch and shift as he moves, admiring the twin indentations at the base of his spine. The view is nothing compared to when he turns around, showcasing his ethereal visuals and a godly figure of chiseled abs, not forgetting his cock in a size that demands your attention.

He gets onto the bed, kneeling and using his teeth to tear through the foil packet to extract the condom.

"Want to help me with it?" he offers, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room.

You swallow air and say, "Yes."

Your hands aren't steady, so you and he end up doing it together, and once you’re both done with it, he pulls you close. You shiver at the feel of your skin coming into contact; your nipples graze his chest, and his length burns against your lower belly. You suddenly feel very self-conscious.

Felix runs his hands up and down your back as he angles his head, trying to catch your gaze but keeps failing.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

You look at the hollow in his collarbone and hunch your shoulders forward. "I feel—I feel naked."

“We’re both naked," he states the obvious with a light smile.

You don’t know how to explain that you’re not only feeling naked on the outside but also from the inside, and that if he looks into your eyes, he’d see all of you. No one wants to see that. This is supposed to be fun and educational, not soul-baring.

Felix flashes you a smile as he tilts your head by your chin, and you catch a glimpse of tender eyes before you close yours, knowing that he's about to kiss you.

Soon, his warm lips brush over yours, tasting of him, you, and sex. His hands caress you, gently kneading the flesh of your waist before grabbing you by the thighs and hooking them around him.

Slowly, he lowers you onto the bed and then covers your body with his. He places sweet little kisses on your jaw, your neck, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and eventually, your lips.

“If you don’t like it, if something hurts... I want you to talk to me, okay?"

As always, you give him a nod before saying the words, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeats, then sweetly kisses your lips. "Now, can you turn over for me?"

You obey him, turning over on the bed and lying on your stomach, taking in the sight of the rumpled pillows and wooden headboard.

"Lift your waist for me, please?" he politely demands, and you do what he asks, lifting your waist off the bed as he slips a pillow underneath.

It takes you a moment to understand what he's doing. In this position, he chooses not to let him see you, and at the same time, it makes you less self-conscious.

"Is this better?" he asks as he places a hot kiss on the skin behind your ear.

"Yes," you say, feeling comfortable already, but you don't think about how you can't see him and what he's going to do to you.

A low sigh escapes your lips as his rough hand glides down your back and massages the flesh in voluptuous motions. His firm chest brushes against your shoulder blades as he props an arm on the bed next to you.

You take a deep inhale as his hand reaches between your thighs, his fingers searching through your folds and sinking deep, pumping fresh essence out of you until it drips around them. As if that isn't enough, he teases your clitoris with gentle touches.

"Felix..." you desperately call his name.

"You're ready, mmh?" he asks, planting a soft kiss on the nape of your neck.

Soon, his hard length prods at your entrance and pushes its way inside, painstakingly slow, as if he wants you to feel every inch of that delicious cock stretching you out.

All this time, you thought sex was repulsive, uncomfortable and painful—something you kept avoiding because your past experiences validated those thoughts—until now. With Felix, you feel nothing but intensifying pleasure even after he is fully sheathed inside you.

"Oh, you feel too good," he whispers into your ear with a low growl.

His words make you feel all sorts of things, and you should say something about him too—how good he feels inside you, how he fills you perfectly. You try to speak like he’s asked you to, but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure. Instead, you try to communicate with your body, spreading your thighs wider for him and trying to match him thrust for thrust.

His tattooed hand propped against the mattress captures yours, and he interlaces both of your fingers together.

“Now, it's perfect," he whispers.

For a timeless moment, you're hovering on the brink until orgasm crashes over you. He knows, but he relentlessly drives into you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you can’t quite match his strength and intensity.

With your eyes closed, you dare to look over your shoulder, and he immediately captures your mouth, stroking his tongue deep into you. Before the last orgasm has finished, you feel another building. You're clenching hard, the tiny muscles fluttering around his cock.

With a hoarse groan, Felix surges into you one last time, hard and shallow, sending you both to your highs. He rubs his lips against your jaw and neck, then lowers your shaking body to the bed. He holds you, wrapping his tattooed arms around you and drawing you even closer, holding you like his.

With your eyes still shut, your fingers trail his forearm, feeling the defined muscle and the smooth skin—a combination that is utterly distracting. His scent, his warmth, and his solidness surround you, slowly lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

Now, it's perfect, you say in your head.

Felix breathes in deeply, letting the warm, comforting scent of your space envelop him as he burrows into the sheets, a happy sigh escaping his lips.

Slowly, he pushes himself up from the bed, and your room looks slightly different basked in the morning sunlight. Like this, he can see the colors of the books on the shelf, the hats and scarves hanging on the bedroom door, and the succulents you keep on your windowsill. Under a different light, your room looks a lot more alive.

It's also illuminating the memories of last night—your shared laughter, the sweet sounds of pleasure that echoed around him, the rustles of the sheets as your naked bodies tangled under the duvet. A rush of warmth fills him at the recollection, but as he looks around, reality settles in: he is in your room, in your apartment, and he shouldn’t overstay his welcome.

Collecting his clothes from the floor, he dresses methodically, and once in a while, he can't help but glance back at the bed where you shared such an intimate night.

Once he's decent, he steps out of the bedroom, finding you right away in the kitchen. Your hair is in a messy bun, glasses perched slightly askew on your nose, and you're dressed in a simple white t-shirt and pajama pants. You are focused on reading something on your phone while quietly eating from a bowl.

“Morning,” he greets, his voice deeper in the morning air, startling you slightly.

“Morning,” you reply, a soft smile lighting up your face.

As he continues buttoning his shirt, he slides onto a vacant stool at the small dining table.

“Orange juice?” you offer, “or do you prefer coffee?”

“Not a coffee person,” he honestly replies, and you immediately pour him a glass of orange juice, your movements easy and familiar.

You turn around to put the carton of juice back into the fridge and come back with a plate of breakfast for him, serving it in front of him.

“I don’t know what you like for breakfast, but this is what I usually cook for my roommate,” you say, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast toward him.

“Wow! Thank you,” he says in utter gratitude.

Felix can’t recall the last time he enjoyed a nice breakfast with the person he had a one-night stand with; usually, he’d be gone before his partner even woke.

He glances toward the door of your roommate’s bedroom, wondering if she's inside.

“The birthday girl isn’t home yet?” he asks as he lifts his fork.

“She’s probably staying over at one of her friends,” you reply, your tone casual, suggesting you are used to this arrangement.

Felix finds it convenient this way. He enjoys the intimacy of just the two of you in the calm of the morning. The presence of another person would only ruin that.

“Is that what you usually have for breakfast?” he asks, peeking into your bowl, which contains slices of fruit, granola, and yogurt.

“Yes,” you answer with a small smile.

“Ah, that explains…” he absentmindedly says, not realizing the implications of his words until you catch his gaze.

“Explain what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“Uh... that explains why you’re so smart,” he lies with a casual smile, hoping to brush off any suspicion.

The truth is, your diet explains why you smell and taste so good; the thought makes him bite back a smile, recalling the events of last night.

"Oh..." your reaction is a mix of surprise and gratitude, but he's still unsure if you understand the meaning behind his words. If you do, just know that it's a compliment.

After breakfast, Felix uses your bathroom for a quick wash-up and retrieves his jacket from the sofa. He adjusts his shirt before putting it on, realizing the time has come to leave, even though he wants to stay longer.

With heavy steps, he approaches you as you stand by the door, sensing the moment is drawing to a close.

Your eyes are on him, but your hands are clasped behind your back, your eyes shimmering with a different kind of light than when he first met you. They seem more alive now, filled with warmth.

“I want to thank you for last night,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face as the memory flashes through your head as it does for him.

“No need to thank me,” he replies. He refuses to accept your thanks when you're not the only one gaining something from last night.

“We had fun last night,” he remarks, not fully realizing he is speaking for both of you.

“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I had fun last night,” he corrects himself with an awkward laugh, pressing a hand to the pulse point on his neck out of nervousness.

“I had— I had fun last night,” you shyly remark, looking away for a second to compose yourself before looking back at him, a shy smile still lingering.

“That's good to know,” he replies, catching your shyness as it creeps into his demeanor.

A moment passes in silence as you look at each other. He has so many things to say, but no words are spoken. He can see that you're struggling to fathom your thoughts into words too.

“Felix,” you call in a different tone from the way you called him last night, yet it makes his heart flutter the same.

“Yes?” he answers, his heart beating in anticipation.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, then close it again, thinking hard about whether to say it or not.

“You can talk to me,” he assures you, his hand flying to your elbow and gently holding it.

Taking a deep breath, you finally close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a quick, unexpected kiss.

The surprise electrifies him, but the briefness leaves him wanting more. He quickly decides it's best to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission. He cups your jaw and leans in for a proper kiss; eventually, his lips meet yours in a kiss that means so much more than that: it's a tender connection that feels just right.

As much as he likes it, he knows he has to let go eventually. He slowly pulls away, only to see a smile blooming on your face, and his lips reflexively follow suit, smiling back at you.

“I hope that’s okay,” he murmurs, but he knows he's not sorry at all for what he did.

You nod, your smile shy yet genuine. "That’s—”

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Rex stumbles in, making a ruckus with her arrival as the keys jangle in her hand and her shoes drop onto the floor, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding between you two.

“Oh?” she gasps, stopping in her tracks when she finally notices the two of you. Her eyes glance between you and Felix.

“Oh!!!” she exclaims again when she recognizes Felix as the guy you kissed for a dare last night.

Realizing she's interrupted something private, she hurriedly clutches her purse close to her chest and dashes into her bedroom, shouting, “I’m not here!”

The moment is shattered nonetheless, and Felix knows he can't stay here for as long as he wants, not when your roommate is now present.

“I'd better go,” he says, even though he hasn’t planned anything beyond that.

“Okay,” you say in a way that makes you sound defeated.

“Okay,” Felix repeats, hoping you would say something to extend the moment just a bit longer.

But good things often come to an end. Felix shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a good look at you one last time, imprinting it in the back of his mind.

“It was nice to meet you,” he earnestly says with one hand on the doorknob.

“Me too,” you reply, your smile soft and genuine, lingering in his thoughts even as he steps out of your life.

At least, for now.

Here you are again, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club with Rex and her friends. You’re still the same shy, nerdy girl, yet somehow, you handle the scene better now. It's a familiar chaos, except that tonight, it's harder to ignore Felix’s absence.

Noticing that you're not having fun like everyone else, Rex leans in closer to talk against the loud music playing in the club.

“Are you disappointed that he’s not here?” she asks, her alcohol-tinted breath brushing your ear.

“Why should I be disappointed?” You scoff, trying to mask the truth. But deep down, you are counting every second since you walked in without seeing him.

“You think I didn't know that you’ve been secretly watching the door?" Rex chuckles, almost spitting her drink. "Or the way you get a little excited whenever you spot a blonde guy?"

Guilty as charged. You are caught, but admitting it feels like opening a wound. You tried not to dwell on it, convincing yourself it was just a one-night stand and these feelings... they'll eventually fade, right?

“Don’t worry,” Rex says as she gently squeezes your knee. “He’s probably still on the way.”

“He didn’t even ask for my number, Rex,” you confess, finally voicing the disappointment that has been gnawing at you ever since that day.

“Then fuck him!” she exclaims, fierce as always. “There are plenty of cute guys, and I'm sure we can find one tonight.”

"No, thank you," you flatly reject the offer.

"Why not?" Rex asks, her eyes studying you.

You scoff again, but inside, the truth lingers: you're still hung up on him.

“Because you’ve already drunk too much," you choose to lie instead, taking her drink from her hand.

Suddenly, someone enters the booth, and you recognize him instantly, even with his bleached hair slicked back. Your heart leaps at the sight of Felix. He looks just as perfect as you remember, but doubt creeps in. Does he remember that night as vividly as you do?

He stands across the table, drink in hand, smiling at you, but you manage a polite smile back, not wanting to set yourself up for another disappointment.

“How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” he suggests out of the blue, his deep voice drawing everyone’s attention.

"Yes, let's do that!" Rex enthusiastically responds while raising her drink higher in front of her.

Felix trails the rim of his glass with his tattooed finger as he thinks of something, and a while later, his eyes fiercely stare at you with a sly smile dancing on his face.

“Never have I ever... made out with a guy in a dark alley, bumped my head on a crate, gotten three stitches, and still proceeded to give him a night he can’t forget?”

A rush of warmth washes over you, either from his eyes that don’t stray away from yours even for a second or the fact that he still remembers everything. You smile nonetheless, feeling the flutter in your chest returning.

Everyone goes silent, glancing around, unsure who might have done that, except for Rex, who squeals next to you like a giddy child.

“I have,” you confidently say, out loud with a proud smile.

You take the drink from Rex’s hand and drink it in one go, wincing at the bitter aftertaste but recovering quickly.

You daringly stare back into his eyes as you take the next turn. “Never have I ever regretted not asking someone for their number?”

“I have,” he replies without missing a beat and downs his shot in one gulp.

Felix places the empty glass on the table, walks over to you, and holds his hand out to you. “Now, I dare you to come with me.”

It isn't a dare when it's exactly what you want; it's a wish come true. You take his inked hand, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin, and let him lead you away from the table and into the night.

In the dark alley where it all started, Felix pulls you close until your bodies collide, wrapping his arms around you. Impatiently, he kisses you hard and deep, full of longing.

The kiss is intoxicating, even better than you remember, and as he steers you away from the crates lining the alley to avoid any mishaps, you softly laugh.

Felix leans his back against the brick wall and holds you close, his face lingering only inches away from yours, breath mingling in the cool night air.

“Let’s avoid visiting the hospital tonight,” he playfully says.

In that dark alley, with the world falling away around you, you realize you don’t want this to ever end. You lean in, capturing his lips once more, and you melt into the kiss, bracing yourself for what you're about to ask and the answer you'll get.

“So, what now?” you ask, your fingers caressing his cheek, tracing the contours of his face.

“We can start by finishing the poem,” he says, a playful glint filling his eyes, reminding you of the lines you have barely gotten through that night.

You grin as the weight of the time you spent worrying about not seeing him again lifts off your shoulders. “Okay, but I think I need a new beginning for this one.”

This time, you know what you want, and what you want is more nights like this, more moments, and more of whatever this is between you and him, and that’s the only dare you're doing tonight: to find out what that is.

“(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”

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chlerc · 1 day

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soft spot ; lando norris

— summary; being his academic rival doesn’t justify why he’s got a soft spot for you, but he does. and he finds himself giving you everything you wanted and if he could.

pairing — academic-rival-lando norris! x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1361.

content — he’s sharing his study notes with you because he wants you to do as well as he does though he’s sure you don’t need his notes because you’re really smart, like smarter than him. got him wrapped around your finger too!!!

NAVIGATION + author’s note: surprise surprise, we got educated lando norris can you believe it?? i'm joking!! i just thought this would be a cute thing to write about, old situationship-ish-kinda inspired lolol

song recs for this fic — soft spot.

Lando sat at his usual spot in the library, the steady hum of muted conversation floating through the air as he lazily twirled his pen, his textbook sprawled open before him. He scribbled half-hearted notes on the margins, his mind far from the equations in front of him. Across from him, she sat with an air of quiet determination, eyes focused, every gesture deliberate as she effortlessly worked through the problem set. There was a certain grace in the way she moved, her concentration almost tangible, and he couldn’t resist the urge to break the silence.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, her voice low but tinged with amusement, though her eyes remained fixed on her work. The scratch of her pen was soft, almost rhythmic, as if even her distraction couldn’t break her focus.

He leaned back, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Just wondering how many hours you'll spend on that before you realise I’m still ahead of you in class.” Her gaze flicked upward then, sharp and challenging, a subtle gleam in her eyes. “In your dreams, Norris. I’m just letting you think you’re ahead, so you don’t feel too bad when I crush you in finals.”

Lando’s smirk deepened, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. “Is that right? Because, if I remember correctly, I outscored you on the last mock exam.”

“By half a point,” she retorted smoothly, the gleam of competition still in her eyes, though a soft smile tugged at her lips. “And I was sleep-deprived.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, his voice laced with teasing. “Always an excuse with you.”

She arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as if conceding, though her expression told him otherwise. “Not an excuse — just facts. You should get used to it, because next time, you won’t even come close.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, but beneath the playful façade, there was something else. He enjoyed these moments far more than he’d ever admit — the way they pushed each other, a constant dance between rivalry and something more tender, something unspoken. The tension between them hummed with an energy that was undeniable, though he’d convinced himself it was merely competition. Yet, no one else made him feel quite like she did.

And after every other gruelling lecture, she would pull him along on yet another one of her spontaneous convenience store runs. He trailed a step behind her, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression one of mock reluctance.

“Do you really need something this time, or are you just dragging me out for the fun of it?” Lando’s voice was laced with faux exasperation, though his gaze softened as it lingered on her.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, a knowing grin lighting up her face. “I like the company. Besides, I know you don’t mind.” His lips quirked into a smile he tried to hide. “I definitely mind,” he muttered, though his tone held no real conviction, and they both knew it.

“Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that,” she teased, her laughter ringing out softly as she reached for a snack on the shelf, tossing it into the basket. Her movements were effortless, as if these small, mundane moments were enough to make her day brighter. “You should be grateful I’m keeping you out of trouble. What would you even do without me?”

Lando leaned against the shelf, watching her with a smirk. “Probably live a quiet life. Go home, play video games in peace. Not have to deal with your very demanding schedule.” She laughed, a light sound that danced in the air between them. Nudging him with her shoulder, she shook her head. “Come on, you love it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though the way his eyes lingered on her told a different story.

Later, on a night he would’ve sworn he’d never be caught in — under the dim lights of a club, with music vibrating through the walls — Lando found himself in his least favourite environment. The bass thrummed through the floor, and the crowd pulsed around him, but she was there, pulling him onto the dance floor with that irresistible smile.

“You really don’t dance, do you?” she teased, her voice barely audible over the music as she tugged him closer, her touch light but insistent. “I told you, I’m not a fan of this whole scene,” he muttered, his feet shuffling awkwardly, though his gaze never left her.

“And yet, here you are. For me,” she said, her smile widening as their bodies moved in sync, her laughter soft and sweet against the chaos of the music. He shook his head, feigning exasperation. “Only because you begged.”

“Begged?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spun around, catching his gaze again. “Please, Norris, I didn’t beg. I knew you’d come.”

“And why’s that?” He has an eyebrow cocked up, smirk on his lips with his arms crossed. “Because you can’t say no to me.” Her voice was light, teasing, but the truth in her words hung between them, undeniable. He sighed, his hand slipping to rest on her waist, pulling her closer. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I know,” she replied, her voice dropping just slightly, her eyes locking onto his. “And you secretly love it.” Lando chuckled softly, though there was no denying the way his heart stuttered in his chest at her touch. “Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

But even as he said it, there was something deeper. He didn’t want to admit how much she got under his skin, how much she’d already wrapped him around her finger. She was his academic rival, the one who always challenged him, pushed him — but she was also the only one who made him feel like this, the only one who could shift his world so effortlessly.

And yet, there were nights when his world felt like it was tipping too far. His workload piled up, deadlines looming, and he found himself cancelling their study plans more often than not. But one evening, after cancelling yet another one, he showed up to her seminar unannounced, determined to make up for lost time.

She spotted him as soon as the seminar ended, her brows knitting together in confusion as she walked over to him. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you have, like, a ton of work?” He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, but I figured I’d spend time with you anyway.”

Her stern expression softened into something more amused. “You don’t have to come to my classes to prove a point, you know,” her hand running through his dirty brown strands. “I know.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just… missed you.”

The teasing look in her eyes faltered for a second, replaced by something more tender, something unspoken between them. “Well, I missed you too, you idiot. But don’t think this gets you out of cancelling our last three study dates.” He laughed, pulling her into a gentle hug. “Fair enough. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’d better,” she replied, her face pressed against his chest, and for the first time in days, the weight on his shoulders felt just a little lighter. “Here’s the notes I collated from our recent classes.” He tosses her his notebook, decorated with sketches of different cars and though he never said it, sharing his notes with her was just a quiet way of showing her he cared. Because he had a soft spot for her.

But late at night, when the world fell quiet, Lando often found himself thinking of her, unable to sleep. She had become the constant in his life, the one who made him feel things he never thought possible. He didn’t want to fall in love — not really — but there she was, challenging everything he thought he knew. She didn’t ask for anything, but somehow, he found himself wanting to give her everything.

And though he fought it, though he tried to convince himself that it was just rivalry, just competition — deep down, he knew. He was already hers.

#🕷⋆⭒˚｡⋆ chloe’s drivers #chlerc #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #ln4 x reader #lando x reader #lando x you #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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gyuuberryy · 1 day

Text

a tailored connection

pairing: designer!sunghoon x muse!reader

synopsis: sunghoon, a talented designer, has always harboured feelings for his longtime friend, you. when he invites you to be his muse, the sessions are charged with a tension that neither of you can ignore. as sunghoon’s compliments and intimate moments reveal deeper feelings, a surprising twist shakes your world. with your engagement to someone else looming and sunghoon grappling with his emotions, both of you face a turning point that will challenge everything you thought you knew about love and friendship.

genre: friends to lovers, both are fools in love

warnings: looot of tension, angst!! , kissing, crying, not really proofread

note: aaand with this royally yours comes to an end, i had a great time writing it! where can i get a man who makes me dresses like this :( i hope you enjoy reading this<3

word count: 16.8k

royally yours masterlist | prev:jake

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the sound of laughter echoes through the village streets, a memory woven into the fabric of your childhood. sunghoon had always been there, his presence as familiar to you as the sky above. you grew up side by side—first as playmates, then as something more complicated, though neither of you had the words for it yet.

it started with simple things. the way he’d hold out his hand to help you over the stones in the river, his grip firm but gentle. the way he’d always save the last piece of the bread he bought for lunch, handing it to you with a shy grin. and the way he’d linger just a bit longer when you hugged him goodbye, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go.

you were never apart for long, always finding reasons to be in each other’s company. as children, you’d run wild through the village, a pair of inseparable companions. the streets had been your playground, the trees your hideout, and the open fields your kingdom.

sunghoon was the one who taught you how to climb trees, his long limbs making it look easy as he scrambled up the tallest one in the village square. you’d followed him then, determined to keep up with him no matter what, your competitive spirit something he both teased and admired.

“come on, you can do it,” he’d called down to you one day, perched on a sturdy branch high above, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’m not leaving you behind.”

“i’m not going to be left behind,” you’d retorted, climbing faster, though your hands were trembling. you didn’t want to admit it, but heights terrified you.

sunghoon had seen through you, though, like he always did. when you reached the top, his hand had shot out to steady you, his touch reassuring. “see? i told you,” he said, smiling in that soft way that always made you feel warm inside.

that was how it always was—sunghoon pushing you to be braver, to go further, but always there to catch you if you stumbled.

as you grew older, the carefree days of your childhood evolved into something quieter, but no less meaningful. sunghoon’s passion for design began to bloom, his sketchbook always tucked under his arm, filled with dresses, cloaks, and the kind of ornate embroidery that would make any noble gasp. he’d spend hours at the village tailor’s shop, learning from the master tailor, and you’d sit in the corner, watching him work, admiring the way his hands moved with precision and care.

“why don’t you just play outside like the other girls?” the old tailor would often ask you, shaking his head with a smile. “this place is no fun for someone your age.”

you’d always smile back, knowing full well why you stayed. “i don’t mind. besides, i like watching sunghoon.”

sunghoon would look up from his work then, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “she’s my best critic,” he’d say, as if that explained everything.

but it wasn’t just about watching him work. there was something in the quiet moments between you, in the way you understood each other without having to say a word. he would sketch something and glance up, catching your eye, and you’d know exactly what he was thinking. he didn’t have to say it.

the bond between you deepened with every passing year, though the village seemed blind to it. to everyone else, you were just friends, nothing more. but there were moments—fleeting, subtle—when you felt something stirring between you, something neither of you dared to speak aloud.

it wasn’t until one late afternoon, when the two of you were sitting under the large oak tree at the edge of the village, that you truly realised how much he meant to you.

the summer sun cast a golden glow over the fields, the breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers. you were both quiet, simply enjoying each other’s company. sunghoon had his sketchbook open on his lap, his charcoal pencil moving lazily across the page. you were watching him, as you often did, wondering what it would be like to have your portrait sketched by him. would he see you differently if he looked at you that way? would the feelings you’d kept locked inside for so long show on your face?

“what are you drawing this time?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. it was always your way of trying to sneak a glimpse into the world that sunghoon poured into his designs.

he looked up, startled from his thoughts, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. “just... a dress,” he said, and though it sounded like a simple answer, there was a softness in his voice that made you curious.

“a dress?” you echoed, smiling. “for who?”

“for... no one in particular,” he murmured, closing the book before you could peek at it. “just an idea.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “you’ve been spending a lot of time on these designs lately. are you preparing for something big?”

he shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “maybe. i’ve been thinking about... making something new. something different. i don’t want to just follow the same old patterns forever.”

you nodded, understanding. sunghoon had always been ambitious, but his talent had begun to outgrow the small village you lived in. you knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to leave—venture into the capital or even beyond to showcase his work.

“whatever it is, you’ll be amazing at it,” you said, your voice steady, though your chest tightened at the thought of him leaving.

he glanced at you then, his expression unreadable. “you really think so?”

“of course,” you replied without hesitation. “i’ve always believed in you.”

the words felt heavier than they should have, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes, but just as quickly, he looked away, his fingers nervously tapping the cover of his sketchbook.

“i couldn’t have come this far without you,” he said, his voice quiet. “you’ve always been there for me.”

you smiled softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “that’s what friends are for, right?”

but even as you said it, the word “friends” felt inadequate—too small to hold the depth of what you felt for him. and though you couldn’t say it aloud, you wondered if sunghoon felt the same.

as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields, the two of you sat in silence, side by side. in the fading light, everything felt suspended—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

but neither of you moved, and the unspoken feelings between you remained just that—unspoken.

for now.

the day had started like any other. you were making your way through the village, the familiar sights and sounds surrounding you—children running through the streets, merchants shouting their daily specials, and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. but today, something felt different. there was an odd flutter in your stomach, though you couldn’t quite place why. perhaps it was because you were heading to sunghoon’s workshop, as you often did, or perhaps it was something else.

his shop had grown over the years, its modest space now brimming with elegant fabrics and mannequins draped in partially finished garments. sunghoon had worked tirelessly, his name slowly gaining recognition beyond the village, though he remained humble about his achievements. it had become a routine for you to visit him, to sit in the corner while he worked, offering your thoughts or simply watching the magic unfold under his skilled hands.

when you arrived, the door was slightly ajar, and you pushed it open to find sunghoon standing at his worktable, deep in thought. his back was turned to you, the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the window and casting a soft glow around him. he was focused, hunched over a sketch, his pencil moving in rapid strokes, as if he were chasing some fleeting inspiration.

you stepped inside quietly, not wanting to disturb him. he was always at his best when he was lost in his work—his mind far away from the village, immersed in a world of silk and satin, seams and stitches. but even in those moments, it wasn’t uncommon for him to sense your presence before you spoke.

today, though, he was more distracted than usual. he didn’t notice you until you were almost beside him, peeking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his newest creation. “what’s this one?” you asked lightly, hoping not to startle him.

he jumped slightly, straightening up and turning to face you, a small smile forming on his lips when he saw it was you. “you’re early.”

you raised an eyebrow. “am i interrupting?”

“no, not at all,” he said, closing the sketchbook and setting it aside. “i was just... thinking.”

“you do that a lot,” you teased, leaning against the edge of the worktable. “what’s on your mind today?”

for a moment, he didn’t answer. his gaze drifted toward the window, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the hem of a piece of fabric. you could see there was something weighing on him, but sunghoon had always been the type to choose his words carefully, never speaking until he was sure of what he wanted to say.

finally, he turned back to you, his expression serious but soft. “i’ve been working on something new. something important.”

you crossed your arms, intrigued. “i figured as much. you’ve been spending even more time here than usual. what is it? a new collection?”

“not exactly,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “it’s... different this time. i want to create something that’s truly mine, something that will set me apart. but to do that, i need help.”

you blinked, surprised. sunghoon rarely asked for help, especially when it came to his designs. “help? from me?”

he nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. “i want you to be my muse.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavier than you’d expected. muse. it wasn’t just a word—it was a role that carried meaning. in a way, you’d always been part of sunghoon’s creative process, offering suggestions or simply being there to share in his successes and frustrations. but this... this was something else entirely.

you shifted your weight, suddenly feeling a little unsure. “a muse? what do you mean?”

“i mean...” he hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. “i’ve been designing dresses, outfits for people i’ve never even met. but none of them feel personal. none of them feel real. i want to create something that speaks to me, and to do that, i need someone who inspires me. someone i know. someone... like you.”

your breath caught in your throat. the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered on you—it was impossible to ignore the meaning behind his words. he wasn’t just asking you to be part of his work; he was asking you to be at the centre of it. to be the person he looked at, thought about, dreamed about while he created. and that idea stirred something inside you that you hadn’t been prepared for.

“i don’t know if i’d make a very good muse,” you said, trying to laugh it off, though your heart was racing.

sunghoon stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re perfect for it. you’ve always been perfect.”

the air between you shifted, growing warmer, heavier with tension. it wasn’t the first time he’d complimented you—he was always kind, always thoughtful—but this felt different. his words weren’t casual or lighthearted. they carried weight, an unspoken truth that had been building between you for years.

you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your throat tightening. being his muse meant more than just standing still while he draped fabric around you. it meant letting him see you, really see you, in ways that no one else ever had. it felt intimate, like a part of you would be etched into every piece he made.

“what would that mean for us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon blinked, startled by the question. “what do you mean?”

“you and i,” you clarified, feeling the weight of the words. “if i agree... won’t it change things between us?”

for a long moment, sunghoon didn’t speak. he seemed to consider your words, his eyes searching your face as if trying to decipher your feelings. finally, he took a deep breath, stepping even closer, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his body. “maybe it will,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “but maybe it’s already changed. maybe it’s been different for a long time.”

his words hit you like a wave, the truth in them undeniable. he was right. things had changed—slowly, quietly—but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. until now.

your heart hammered in your chest, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. you could feel the tension between you, crackling like the air before a storm. there was something fragile, something precious hanging between you, and the slightest word or movement could shatter it.

but then, without thinking, you made your decision.

“i’ll do it,” you said, your voice barely audible, but firm.

sunghoon’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and relief passing across his face. “you will?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yes. i’ll be your muse.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence stretched, heavy with the unspoken feelings that had been buried for so long. and then, slowly, sunghoon’s lips curved into the softest smile—a smile that reached his eyes and made something inside you melt.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief, electrifying moment, it felt as if time stood still. you were acutely aware of how close he was, how much more intimate things had become between you in just a few short minutes.

you smiled back, though your heart was pounding. “i think it’ll be fun.”

sunghoon laughed softly, the sound low and warm, and the tension between you seemed to ease, just a little. but even as you both fell into a more comfortable silence, you knew that things between you had changed. there was no going back now.

the sun was beginning to set as you made your way to sunghoon’s shop, a soft, golden glow spreading across the village. it had been only a few days since you agreed to be his muse, but the weight of that decision still lingered in your mind. there was a sense of anticipation, an underlying current of excitement that thrummed through you, but also an edge of nervousness that you couldn’t shake.

you had always been comfortable around sunghoon, but this felt different. it wasn’t just visiting a friend; you were stepping into a role that felt intimate in ways you hadn’t quite expected. and you knew that once you crossed the threshold of his workshop today, something between you would shift again.

when you arrived, sunghoon was already waiting. the door was propped open, and you could hear the faint sounds of rustling fabric and the occasional scratch of his pencil against paper. you hesitated for a moment at the doorway, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

sunghoon looked up as soon as you entered, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “you came,” he said, sounding almost relieved.

“of course i did,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the quickening of your pulse. “i’m your muse now, remember?”

his smile widened just a little, and he motioned for you to come in. “right. my muse.”

the word still felt strange on your tongue, and hearing him say it made something flutter in your chest. you glanced around the room, noticing that he had cleared some space near the large windows where the light poured in. rolls of fabric were neatly arranged, sketchbooks stacked nearby, and a dress form stood at the centre, waiting to be draped with something new.

you stepped closer, feeling the warmth of the sunlight against your skin, but also the weight of sunghoon’s gaze on you. his eyes followed your every movement, a soft intensity in them that made the space between you feel smaller, more charged.

“so, where do we start?” you asked, forcing a smile to break the tension that was building in the room.

sunghoon set down his pencil and moved to stand beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reached for a roll of fabric. “i was thinking we’d start by figuring out what you like. i want to design something that feels like you—not just any dress, but one that you’d wear and feel... beautiful in.”

the way he said the word beautiful made your stomach flip. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the way his voice lingered on the compliment.

“what i like?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “i’m not sure. i mean, i’ve never really thought about it.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you with a small smile. “you’ve never thought about what you like in dresses? after all this time of coming here and watching me work?”

you laughed, a little nervous. “i guess i’ve always been more interested in what you were making for other people.”

“well,” he said, his voice softening, “now it’s time to think about what’s right for you.”

he moved closer, picking up a few pieces of fabric and holding them up to the light. “what do you think of these? what colours feel like you?”

you eyed the fabrics he held—a deep emerald green, a soft blush pink, and a striking midnight blue. each one seemed to carry a different weight, a different mood, and the idea of choosing one for yourself felt strangely personal.

“i’m not sure,” you admitted, reaching out to touch the green fabric. “i’ve always liked green, but... i don’t know if it suits me.”

sunghoon tilted his head, his eyes flickering over you, as if he were studying you in a way he hadn’t before. “it suits you,” he said quietly, the certainty in his voice catching you off guard. “it brings out your eyes. but so would the blue.”

you blinked, surprised by the compliment. sunghoon wasn’t one to flatter people needlessly, especially not you. his compliments usually came in the form of casual remarks, offhand observations about how a colour might work or how you carried yourself in a certain style. but this—this was different. there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you now, that felt far more intimate.

you felt your face grow warm under his gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “you think so?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“i know so,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. “you have a way of making things look better just by wearing them. it’s not just about the dress—it’s about how you wear it.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air between you growing heavier with each passing second. you hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to speak so plainly, so openly. sunghoon had always been composed, professional, even around you. but now, there was something more vulnerable in the way he spoke, something unguarded.

you cleared your throat, trying to break the moment before it became too much. “well, what about styles then? i’ve always liked simpler designs. nothing too extravagant.”

sunghoon nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still lingering on you, as if he were trying to memorise every detail of your expression. “simple suits you,” he murmured. “but there’s something about you that deserves more. something elegant.”

“elegant?” you echoed, unsure of where this was coming from.

“mm,” he hummed, reaching for his sketchbook. “you’ve always carried yourself with a kind of grace—like you don’t even realise how beautiful you are.”

your breath hitched. you stared at him, your heart pounding louder in your chest as his words hung in the air between you. this wasn’t just a compliment—it was something else. something deeper. and the realisation of it hit you like a wave.

sunghoon, too, seemed to realise the weight of what he’d just said. he quickly looked away, focusing on his sketchbook as if he could take the words back by drowning them in his work. “i didn’t mean to... i mean...”

you stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. you had never thought of yourself the way sunghoon was describing you now, and the fact that he saw you like this—it was overwhelming. you could feel the tension crackling between you, the unspoken feelings that had always lingered beneath the surface suddenly threatening to rise.

“i just... think you should have something that shows who you are,” sunghoon continued, his voice quieter now, more careful. “not just as my muse, but as you. something that makes people stop and see you the way i do.”

your pulse quickened at his words, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak. the way he was looking at you now, with an intensity you hadn’t seen before, made it feel like the walls of the workshop were closing in.

you glanced down, trying to focus on the fabric in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingered. “sunghoon... i don’t know what to say.”

he shook his head, stepping back slightly as if to give you space. “you don’t have to say anything. i just... i want you to feel beautiful in whatever i make for you. that’s all.”

there was a long pause, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of fabric as you ran your fingers over the green material again. your mind was spinning, your heart racing, and yet you couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through you at his words. it wasn’t just the compliment—it was the way he saw you, the way he always had.

finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze once more. “i trust you, sunghoon. i always have.”

his eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “good,” he said quietly. “because i promise, whatever we create together, it’s going to be something unforgettable.”

the light from the late afternoon sun bathed sunghoon’s workshop in a golden hue, casting long shadows that stretched across the room. you stood near the centre, nervously smoothing the fabric of your dress as sunghoon readied his tools. he had done this countless times—measuring clients for garments—but somehow, this felt different. more intimate. more real.

“alright,” he said, his voice a little too casual as he approached with a measuring tape in hand. “this won’t take long.”

you nodded, trying to keep your breathing steady as you watched him move closer. sunghoon had always been meticulous when it came to his work, his hands sure and steady, but today there was a faint tremor in them as he unspooled the tape.

“so, uh,” he began, his gaze flickering between your face and the tape in his hands. “we’ll start with your shoulders. just... relax.”

you forced a smile, though the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. “i’m relaxed.”

he shot you a look that said he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t argue. he stepped behind you, and you could feel his presence—warm, steady—just inches away. the fabric of your dress shifted slightly as he gently placed the tape around your shoulders, his fingers grazing your skin ever so lightly. the contact sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried your best to suppress it.

for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of the measuring tape as he adjusted it. you could feel your heart beating faster, your pulse quickening with each passing second. sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to be holding his breath, as if he were just as aware of the closeness as you were.

“alright,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, more focused. “now your waist.”

he stepped around to face you, his gaze briefly meeting yours before dropping to the tape in his hands. his movements were careful, almost hesitant, as he crouched slightly, bringing the tape around your waist. you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as his fingers brushed the sides of your dress, the heat of his touch lingering longer than it should have.

the proximity, the feel of his hands so close to you—it was almost too much. you bit your lip, fighting the urge to fidget under his intense concentration. sunghoon had always been calm, composed, but now there was an unmistakable tension in the air, a subtle awkwardness that made your heart race even faster.

he straightened up, pulling the tape taut as he noted your measurements. “i... uh,” he began, clearing his throat slightly, “i’ll need to get your bust next.”

you blinked, feeling your face grow warm. “oh. right.”

it wasn’t as if you hadn’t expected it—this was part of the process, after all—but somehow the idea of sunghoon taking that particular measurement felt... different. the room seemed smaller, the air thicker as you watched him struggle to keep his composure.

his hand hovered for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do. “i—uh,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “just... hold still.”

you nodded, though you could feel the flush rising to your cheeks as he brought the tape around your chest, his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress with the lightest touch. his face was close now—closer than it had ever been—his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you.

neither of you spoke. the silence stretched, heavy with the unspoken desires that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. his fingers fumbled slightly as he adjusted the tape, and for a brief moment, his hand brushed against your skin, sending a shock of electricity through you.

you inhaled sharply, your breath hitching at the unexpected contact, and sunghoon froze. his eyes flicked up to meet yours, wide and startled, as if he hadn’t meant to let the moment slip.

“sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to...”

“it’s fine,” you said quickly, though your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

but he didn’t move away. his hand remained where it was, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric. you could feel every inch of him—every breath, every subtle movement—and the closeness was dizzying. there was something in his eyes, something unspoken, that made your pulse race even faster.

you swallowed hard, your voice barely steady as you spoke. “sunghoon...”

he blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and quickly stepped back, dropping the measuring tape as if it had burned him. “i—i think that’s enough for now,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck again, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i’ve got what i need.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. “are you sure? i mean, if you need more measurements—”

“no!” he said, perhaps a little too quickly, then cleared his throat. “i mean, no. we’re good. i’ve got everything.”

the tension between you was palpable, thick and heavy, but neither of you knew how to break it. sunghoon busied himself with gathering the tape and jotting down notes, though his movements were jerky, his usual calm demeanour nowhere to be found.

you watched him, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. there was an awkwardness, yes, but also something else—something that had been building between you for a long time, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

finally, sunghoon spoke again, though his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “you know,” he said, not meeting your eyes, “you really do have... perfect proportions.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you completely off guard. “what?”

he cleared his throat, rubbing his neck awkwardly once more. “i mean... for the dress,” he added quickly, as if trying to backtrack. “you have a really... balanced figure. for tailoring, i mean.”

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden compliment, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it. the way his voice softened, the way he fidgeted under your gaze, as if he were revealing more than he intended.

“i... thanks?” you managed, feeling your cheeks burn with a mix of surprise and awkwardness.

sunghoon gave you a tight-lipped smile, clearly as flustered as you were. “yeah. no problem.”

the silence that followed was thick and heavy, both of you too aware of the tension that had settled over the room like a heavy blanket. sunghoon quickly turned away, busying himself with his sketches, but the weight of the moment lingered in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but you knew—no matter how much you both tried to pretend otherwise—something between you had shifted. and neither of you were quite ready to confront it yet.

the days following that first measurement session seemed to blur together, each one filled with quiet moments, shared glances, and unspoken words that hung heavy in the air. sunghoon had thrown himself into the design, sketching feverishly as if creating your dress had become not just his project, but his obsession. every stroke of his pencil seemed deliberate, every detail in the fabric a reflection of how closely he had studied you—not just your body, but you as a person.

the workshop had become a second home to you, and you found yourself spending more and more time there as the dress took shape. each day, you would come in, greeted by the soft sounds of scissors slicing through fabric and the rhythmic hum of sunghoon’s needle as he stitched delicate patterns. his focus was unbreakable, yet there was always that moment when he would pause, look at you, and give a small, almost shy smile, as if he still couldn’t believe you were there, helping him create something so personal.

the tension between you grew thicker with every passing day. it was as if the fabric sunghoon was weaving was also binding the two of you together in ways neither of you had expected. there were the long stretches of silence, where the only sound was the soft brush of fabric against your skin as he worked, and then there were the moments when his hand would linger just a little too long as he adjusted the fit of a sleeve or pinned the hem of a skirt.

each session brought a new creation—a new dress, a new style. it had become almost routine: he would sketch out his ideas, asking for your thoughts on the design, and then you would model the fabric as he draped it over you, pinning it into place before moving on to the next step. but no matter how professional sunghoon tried to keep things, there was always that spark of something more lurking beneath the surface.

one afternoon, as you stood in the centre of the room, sunghoon paced around you, scrutinising the latest dress he had draped over your frame. this one was softer than the others, a light cream-coloured gown with delicate embroidery along the bodice. you could feel the weight of his gaze as he circled you, studying every fold, every contour, as if he were memorising the shape of you through the fabric.

“what do you think?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady, his eyes focused entirely on you.

you glanced down at the dress, running your fingers over the soft fabric. “it’s beautiful,” you murmured. “you’ve really outdone yourself.”

sunghoon didn’t respond right away. instead, he stepped closer, his brow furrowing slightly as he adjusted the neckline of the gown. his fingers grazed your collarbone as he worked, sending a shiver through you. he seemed to hesitate, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, before he cleared his throat and stepped back.

“i’m trying to capture... something,” he said, his voice trailing off as he picked up his pencil and notepad, scribbling down a few notes. “something that feels... like you.”

you blinked, surprised by his words. “like me?”

he nodded, not looking up from his notes. “it’s not just about the dress. it’s about how you move, how you carry yourself. i want to create something that feels like it belongs to you. not just any dress, but... your dress.”

there it was again—that intensity in his words, the way he seemed to see you in ways no one else ever had. you weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply nodded, letting the moment settle between you.

the sessions continued like this over the next two weeks, each one more charged than the last. sunghoon worked tirelessly, sketching new designs late into the night, and every day you would return to see the progress he had made. he would greet you with that familiar smile, sometimes shy, sometimes teasing, and you would fall into the rhythm of your muse-and-artist routine.

but there was something else growing between you, something neither of you could ignore. each time sunghoon draped a new fabric over your shoulders, each time his fingers brushed your skin as he measured or adjusted the fit, the unspoken tension between you deepened. his compliments, once casual and light, became more thoughtful, more personal.

one day, as he worked on the finishing touches of a new gown—a soft lavender dress with delicate lace trimming—he paused, glancing at you from across the room. “you know,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “i’ve always known you were beautiful.”

you froze, your heart skipping a beat at his sudden confession. he didn’t meet your eyes, instead focusing on the hem of the dress as he stitched. “i just... i don’t think i’ve ever told you that,” he continued, his voice almost hesitant.

the words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. sunghoon had always been complimentary in his own way—praising your grace or your proportions for the sake of his designs—but this was different. there was something raw, something vulnerable in his tone that made your chest tighten.

“sunghoon,” you began, but he quickly shook his head, cutting you off before you could continue.

“i’m not saying it for any reason,” he said quickly, his hands still busy with his stitching. “i just... i think it’s something you should know. you’re more than just a muse to me.”

your breath caught in your throat. the weight of his words was impossible to ignore now, the line between friend and something more growing blurrier with each passing day.

you watched him work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the task at hand. the quiet intimacy of the moment settled around you like a soft cloak, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed outside of this room—just you, sunghoon, and the delicate threads of connection that were slowly being woven together.

by the time he finished the lavender dress, the air between you had shifted once again. there was no denying the feelings that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long, but neither of you were ready to confront them. not yet.

“i think it’s done,” sunghoon said quietly, stepping back to admire the dress.

you turned, catching his eye for a brief moment before looking away, the tension between you still thick and unresolved.

“it’s perfect,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before he turned back to his sketches, his hands already moving toward the next design. but as he worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted once again, pulling you both closer to the inevitable.

the day sunghoon finally called you to his workshop to try on the completed dress, your heartbeat quickened with anticipation. you had witnessed pieces of the gown as it came together—folds of fabric, tiny swirls of embroidery—but you hadn’t yet seen the masterpiece in its entirety. now, standing at the doorway, you felt a fluttering mix of nerves and excitement, an invisible pull drawing you into sunghoon’s world once more.

as you stepped inside, you found sunghoon waiting, his face a picture of quiet intensity. he nodded toward the mannequin where the dress hung, his eyes unreadable but somehow deeper, darker than usual, as if holding back something unspoken.

when your gaze finally landed on the dress, your breath caught in your throat.

it was breathtaking.

the gown was nothing short of exquisite—lavender silk flowed like water from the bodice down to the floor, shimmering under the afternoon light that streamed through the windows. the neckline was delicately embroidered, the threads so fine they seemed like whispers etched into the fabric, while lace fluttered over the sleeves, giving the piece an ethereal, almost dream-like quality. the entire dress exuded elegance, but more than that, it felt like you—a reflection of something so deeply personal that you almost couldn’t believe sunghoon had captured it.

you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gown. “sunghoon... i don’t even know what to say,” you whispered, your fingers brushing the edge of the fabric. “it’s perfect.”

he remained silent, watching you with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. his gaze didn’t waver as you admired the dress, his expression unreadable but brimming with something just beneath the surface.

“try it on,” he finally said, his voice low and steady, though there was a note of something raw in it.

nodding, you carefully took the dress from the mannequin and disappeared behind the changing screen, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. the fabric felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the gown, the weight of the silk settling around your body like it had been made just for you—which, of course, it had.

the dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the bodice fitting snugly while the skirt fanned out into a soft cascade of fabric. you ran your hands down the front, smoothing the delicate lace as a quiet gasp escaped your lips. it was perfect—no, more than perfect. it was everything you had dreamed of.

but there was one problem. as you reached behind your back to tie the strings that secured the dress, you quickly realised they were positioned just out of your reach. you stretched and fumbled, trying to catch the ties, but it was no use. frustration bubbled inside you, and after a few more futile attempts, you sighed in defeat.

“sunghoon?” your voice was hesitant, your cheeks warming as you called for his help.

“yes?” he replied, his voice soft but nearby.

“i... i can’t tie the strings on my own. could you—could you help me?” your request was almost timid, aware of the intimacy it required, but there was no other option.

a pause followed, but then you heard his footsteps approaching. he came closer, and the air between you seemed to shift, charged with a kind of tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“of course,” sunghoon said quietly. his voice had taken on a softer tone, one that sent a quiet thrill through you as you stood there, waiting, feeling the heat of his presence behind you.

you turned your back to him, exposing the bare skin between the open edges of the dress. the silence that followed was thick, palpable, as his fingers grazed the strings, brushing against your skin in the process. his touch was featherlight, but each accidental contact sent small jolts through you, your senses heightened by the proximity, the intimacy of the moment.

sunghoon worked with slow, deliberate care, pulling the strings through the loops at your back. his fingertips continued to brush your skin, his movements precise but betraying the tension in the way his breath seemed to catch when his hands touched you. you could feel his closeness—the heat radiating from his body, his steady breath that almost matched the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

in the mirror directly in front of you, you watched his expression as he tied the delicate knots. his brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, but there was something else, something simmering beneath the surface. his lips parted ever so slightly, his eyes darkening as they traced the movement of his hands against your skin. you couldn’t stop staring at him, watching the way his fingers worked, almost trembling as they lingered on your body longer than necessary.

your pulse quickened, your breath coming out a little too shallow, and you wondered if he could feel the way your muscles tensed under his touch. it was impossible to ignore the tension—something unspoken, something that had been building between you for weeks, was about to break.

“there,” sunghoon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands remained on your waist, resting lightly against the fabric as though he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet.

you swallowed hard, watching him through the mirror. the look on his face wasn’t just one of pride in his work—it was something far deeper. his gaze softened as he admired the way the dress fit you, his fingers tightening slightly against your waist. “you look... beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “it suits you perfectly. is it comfortable?”

the words were innocent enough, but the way he said them—the hushed tone, the way his eyes never left yours in the reflection—made your heart race. you nodded, unable to form words, still lost in the haze of the moment.

“it’s perfect,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

sunghoon’s hands stayed where they were, his touch sending a heat through you that was impossible to ignore. your eyes met his in the mirror, the intensity between you crackling like a flame barely held back. his grip on your waist tightened just a little, his fingers pressing into the fabric as though he were anchoring himself.

for a moment, everything froze. the workshop, the world outside—none of it seemed to matter. all that existed was the way he was looking at you, the way his breath hitched as he stood so close. his fingers brushed against your waist, just under the edge of the fabric, grazing the skin there ever so slightly.

then you turned around, and suddenly, the space between you was gone.

you were standing so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, your chest brushing against his as you moved. his eyes darted to your lips, then back up to your gaze, conflicted but full of want. the air was thick with tension, so much that you could hardly breathe, and then, without warning, sunghoon’s restraint snapped.

he kissed you.

the kiss was swift, almost frantic, as if he’d been holding it back for too long. his lips pressed against yours with a kind of hunger that sent shockwaves through your body, stealing your breath. one of his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, while the other remained at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of the dress as though he were afraid you’d slip away. the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth against yours, the way his hands held you like he’d never let go.

your mind spun in a whirlwind of sensation. the kiss was impulsive, raw, filled with all the feelings he had been holding back for so long. you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—all you could do was respond, kissing him back with the same intensity, the same desperate need that had been growing between you for weeks.

but then, reality crashed down.

sunghoon pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and regret, his breath ragged as he stared at you. “i—” his voice faltered, his hand still lingering on your waist, trembling slightly. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t mean to—”

you were just as dazed, your heart still pounding, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “it’s... it’s okay,” you said, though the words felt hollow. the kiss had left you reeling, and you weren’t sure what to think, what to feel.

sunghoon’s expression twisted with regret, his hands falling away from your waist as he stepped back. “we shouldn’t have—” he shook his head, his face pale. “i crossed a line.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the tension between you shift into something heavier, something filled with confusion and guilt. “maybe we should forget this happened,” you whispered, though the weight of the kiss still lingered in the air.

he nodded, his expression tight, though the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “yeah. let’s... forget it.”

but neither of you could. the kiss, the way his hands had held you, the way your heart had raced—it was etched into the fabric of your friendship now, impossible to untangle.

word had spread quickly about sunghoon's exceptional craftsmanship. it began with whispers among the town’s elite, impressed with the stunning gown he had created for you, and soon, nobles from far and wide were flocking to his workshop, eager to have their own garments custom-made by his skilled hands. what had once been a modest business now thrived under the weight of new orders, with sunghoon’s talent finally receiving the recognition it deserved.

every day the workshop buzzed with activity—fine fabrics and intricate patterns sprawled across every surface, and sunghoon worked tirelessly, sketching designs, selecting fabrics, and stitching together dreams. you often found yourself there, as his muse, watching as he brought these creations to life, offering input or simply keeping him company through the long hours. his success was yours to share, and you couldn’t have been more proud.

one day, a letter arrived from the royal palace itself. the princess had heard of sunghoon’s work and requested him personally to craft a gown for her upcoming ball. the letter was written in elegant script on fine parchment, a formal request for his presence at the palace to discuss the details of the gown. when he read it aloud to you, you could hardly contain your excitement.

“sunghoon, this is incredible!” you exclaimed, beaming at him as he held the letter in his hands. his eyes shone with a mixture of pride and disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“it’s surreal,” he admitted, glancing at you with a smile that warmed you from the inside out. “i never thought i’d be making dresses for royalty.”

“you deserve it,” you said earnestly, feeling your heart swell with admiration for him. “you’ve worked so hard, and now everyone can see just how talented you are.”

sunghoon’s smile faltered for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes as he looked at you. “i couldn’t have done it without you,” he said softly. there was a weight to his words, a depth of feeling that you felt but couldn’t quite name. your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, he turned away, folding the letter carefully.

the trip to the palace was an experience neither of you would forget. the sprawling estate, the opulence of the interiors, the sense of awe that filled you as you walked through the grand halls—it was like stepping into another world. sunghoon had been invited to meet with the princess and discuss her gown, and as his muse and close friend, you accompanied him.

the princess was gracious and kind, and she spoke with sunghoon about the design she envisioned, praising his previous work. throughout the conversation, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, watching the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, his artistic mind already turning over the details of the gown in his head. it was hard not to feel a swell of pride, knowing you had played a part in his journey to this moment.

afterward, when the order had been placed and the royal commission secured, sunghoon suggested you both celebrate the occasion.

the restaurant was warm and cosy, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, far removed from the grandeur of the palace. the two of you had shared many meals together over the years, but tonight felt different. the weight of sunghoon’s newfound success hung in the air between you, the knowledge that his life—your lives—were changing in ways you hadn’t fully anticipated.

you sat across from him, toasting to his success with glasses of wine, laughter bubbling up as you reminisced about old times. “do you remember the time we tried to make that dress for my cousin’s wedding, and the fabric tore right before the ceremony?” you said, laughing as you recalled the chaos.

sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “how could i forget? i thought i was finished as a tailor before i even started.”

“but you saved it in the end,” you said, your smile softening as you looked at him. “you’ve always had this way of making things beautiful, even when they seem impossible.”

his laughter faded, and for a moment, there was a lingering silence between you. his gaze met yours, and the atmosphere seemed to shift—something unspoken hung between you, thick and heavy like the summer air. the warmth from the wine and the closeness of the moment made it difficult to focus on anything else but him—the way the candlelight flickered against his features, the way his eyes softened when they lingered on you just a little too long.

he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “you know, this success… it’s more than i ever thought possible. and i don’t think i could have done it without you by my side.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, the intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. there it was again—that undercurrent of something more, something that had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to break free.

your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned in slightly, your faces just inches apart. the air between you crackled with anticipation, the proximity sending sparks down your spine. you could feel the warmth of his breath, the space between you narrowing with every passing second. your eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt like the world had fallen away.

the moment stretched on, and you could feel your heart racing, your pulse thundering in your ears. he was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, close enough that all it would take was one small movement, one tiny step forward, and—

“i’m getting married,” you blurted out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

sunghoon froze, his eyes widening in shock. the spell between you shattered, and you immediately regretted speaking, but there was no taking it back now. the air between you went cold, and you felt your stomach drop as the weight of your announcement settled over the table like a heavy blanket.

“what?” his voice was low, strained, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “my parents... they’ve arranged a marriage for me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m engaged.”

the silence that followed was deafening. sunghoon stared at you, his expression unreadable, though you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes. his jaw clenched slightly, his hand tightening around his glass as if he were trying to steady himself.

“when?” he finally asked, his voice tight, controlled.

“the date hasn’t been set yet,” you admitted, feeling your throat tighten with guilt. “but... soon.”

sunghoon sat back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table. for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, the silence between you stretching into something unbearable. you could see the conflict in his eyes—the hurt, the frustration, the confusion. the tension that had been building between you for weeks, months even, was now thick with an unspoken finality.

finally, he looked up at you, his eyes dark and clouded with emotion. “congratulations,” he said quietly, though the word felt hollow, like it had been ripped from him unwillingly.

your heart sank, a wave of disappointment washing over you. you had expected... well, you didn’t know what you had expected. for him to fight for you, maybe, to protest or say something that would change everything. but instead, all you got was a distant, polite congratulations.

“sunghoon—” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

“i’m happy for you,” he said, though the strain in his voice betrayed his true feelings. “i’m sure he’s a good man.”

the words stung, more than you had anticipated, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep ache in your chest. this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. but what could you say? you were engaged, and he... he was congratulating you, just as any friend would.

“yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. “thanks.”

but neither of you was happy, and you both knew it.

the walk back home felt heavier than usual. the excitement and easy flow of conversation that had filled the night seemed to dissipate into an awkward, thick silence. sunghoon walked beside you, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, eyes focused on the road ahead. normally, you’d both talk about everything and nothing—jokes, shared memories, or the latest designs he had been working on. but tonight, every step felt strained, as if the unspoken words were choking both of you.

you could feel the weight of what had happened at the restaurant still hanging between you, as if the tension you hadn’t acted on had only grown with your admission. sunghoon had insisted on walking you home, just as he always did, though the usual warmth in the gesture felt distant now. neither of you had tried to break the silence, though you kept stealing glances at him out of the corner of your eye.

his face was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line as he walked with an unusual stiffness. you wanted to say something, to break the thick silence, but no words came. the engagement had changed everything between you, and you hated how powerless it made you feel. there was a dull ache in your chest as you watched him struggle with the weight of emotions he clearly wasn’t ready to share.

when your house came into view, you slowed your steps, almost wishing the walk could last just a little longer. but it didn’t. you reached your doorstep, and just as you were about to thank sunghoon for the walk, the door swung open.

your mother appeared, her face lighting up the moment she saw the two of you standing there. “sunghoon! what a surprise!” she exclaimed warmly, stepping out and pulling him into an embrace before he could protest. “you look so well!”

sunghoon smiled politely, though you could tell he was caught off guard by her enthusiasm. “good evening, ma’am. i was just walking your daughter home.”

your mother beamed, glancing at you with that knowing look of hers. “he always does, doesn’t he?” she teased lightly. “such a good boy.”

“mama...” you muttered, feeling embarrassed.

but your mother wasn’t finished. “come in, come in! you can’t just leave him standing outside like that,” she scolded, ushering sunghoon into the house before either of you could object. you shot him an apologetic look, but he waved it off with a small smile as he followed her inside.

the warmth of your home enveloped you both, the familiar scent of dinner lingering in the air. your father was sitting by the fire, and when he saw sunghoon, his face brightened. “ah, there’s the young tailor everyone’s talking about! come, sit with us.”

sunghoon looked between you and your parents, clearly not wanting to intrude, but it was hard to refuse the hospitality of your family. you watched as he settled into one of the chairs near the fire, his polite smile fixed in place, though you could sense the unease in his posture.

your mother sat beside him, clasping his hands in hers as she looked at him with pride. “sunghoon, i’ve heard such incredible things about your work lately. everyone is talking about you, and we couldn’t be more proud.”

you could see the discomfort in his eyes as your mother’s words began to feel more like a reminder of the distance between you. he offered her a tight smile. “thank you. it’s been... unexpected.”

“and well deserved!” your father chimed in. “we always knew you’d make something of yourself, ever since you were little.”

your mother nodded eagerly, her gaze softening as she looked at him fondly. “we’ve seen you grow up alongside our daughter, sunghoon. you two have always been so close... practically inseparable.”

you stiffened at the words, knowing what was coming next.

“which is why,” your mother continued, glancing at you briefly before turning back to sunghoon, “it’s been so hard for her, this whole engagement business.”

your stomach twisted. the topic you had been dreading was now out in the open, and you didn’t miss the way sunghoon’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. he was trying to stay composed, but the flicker of surprise in his eyes was unmistakable.

“she’s protested quite a bit, hasn’t she?” your mother added, her tone half-amused, half-concerned.

sunghoon’s eyes darted toward you, his surprise evident. you could see the confusion in his expression as he processed your mother’s words. you hadn’t said yes to the engagement? not fully? he had assumed you had accepted it without question, but now...

you averted your gaze, feeling your cheeks flush under the weight of both his and your parents’ attention. you hadn’t exactly fought against the engagement with much force either. it was an unspoken understanding between you and your family that the marriage would happen eventually, even if your heart wasn’t fully in it. but now, seeing sunghoon’s expression shift, you could see the conflict in his eyes.

your mother continued on, oblivious to the tension now thick in the air. “it’s just nerves, of course. every girl feels a bit uncertain before a big step like this.” she smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “she’ll come around.”

you wanted to protest, to say something that would dispel the awkward silence stretching between you and sunghoon, but the words caught in your throat. instead, your mother’s next words hit like a hammer, unknowingly driving the wedge deeper.

“actually,” she began, her voice suddenly filled with excitement, “we were hoping you could help us with something, sunghoon.”

he blinked, taken aback by her tone. “of course, ma’am. what is it?”

“well,” she said, glancing at you with a grin, “who better to make our daughter’s wedding dress than the most talented designer in town?”

the room felt as if it had dropped several degrees, the weight of her request pressing down on all of you. you felt your stomach churn, a sinking feeling of dread settling in. you hadn’t expected this—he hadn’t expected this. you watched as sunghoon’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, his composure slipping as the full impact of your mother’s words hit him.

make your wedding dress. your wedding dress.

he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i’d be honored,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

your mother clapped her hands together, beaming with delight. “oh, that’s wonderful! i knew we could count on you, sunghoon.”

he stood up then, a sudden stiffness in his movements. “thank you for your kindness,” he said, his voice more formal now. “but it’s late, and i should be going.”

your mother stood as well, ushering him toward the door with a fond smile. “of course, of course. but we must meet soon to discuss the dress!”

sunghoon nodded, his gaze avoiding yours as he headed for the door. you followed behind in silence, the heaviness between you both suffocating.

at the doorstep, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe as he turned to face you one last time. there was something broken in his expression, a quiet sadness that you couldn’t quite place. for a moment, it seemed as if he might say something—something real, something raw—but then, he simply nodded.

“good night,” he whispered, before turning and walking away.

as you watched him disappear into the night, your heart ached with the words left unsaid, the feelings unspoken, and the love you both were too afraid to fight for.

as sunghoon walked through the dimly lit streets, the cool night air did little to ease the storm brewing inside him. each step echoed in the stillness, but his mind was anything but calm. the evening had turned from tense excitement into a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest.

he replayed your mother’s words over and over in his mind: “who better to make our daughter’s wedding dress than the most talented designer in town?” the words had cut deeper than any blade, the cruel irony of it all making his heart twist painfully. he had dreamed of crafting something beautiful for you, yes, but never like this. not for someone else’s wedding. not for the marriage that would take you away from him.

sunghoon clenched his fists, his knuckles white as his nails bit into his palms. a marriage. to someone else. he could barely picture it, the idea so foreign and painful that it seemed absurd. but the reality was right there, looming in front of him like an unstoppable force. he had always known that this day would come. you were from a noble family, destined to marry someone of status. and him? he was a tailor, nothing more. his growing reputation in town meant little in comparison to the weight of your family’s expectations.

it’s for the best, he told himself, over and over, like a mantra he hoped would dull the pain. your life with that man—whoever he was—would be easier, more secure. you’d live the life you were meant to lead, filled with luxury, stability, and everything a noblewoman deserved. sunghoon had nothing to offer in comparison. even with his recent success, his craft could never provide you with the life that an arranged marriage could.

sunghoon’s pace quickened, the weight of his emotions making it harder to breathe. his mind whirled with a painful realization: it’s better this way. he had no right to confess his feelings to you now. no right to complicate your life any further. you were getting married, and he had to respect that. confessing his love wouldn’t change anything—it would only hurt you more, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your pain.

he thought of the way you had looked at him tonight, how your eyes had softened when you admitted that you hadn’t agreed to the marriage yet. the flicker of hope that had briefly ignited in his chest had been swiftly extinguished by the cold voice of reason. you deserved better than him, better than a life filled with uncertainty and struggle. and even though it tore him apart inside, sunghoon knew he had to let you go.

she’ll be happier without me. the thought twisted like a knife in his heart, but he held onto it like a lifeline. it was easier to believe that than to face the truth—that he was simply too afraid. too afraid to fight for you, too afraid of what loving you truly meant. because if he did confess, if he asked you to choose him, what then? you would have to give up your life of comfort, your family’s support, and the future they had planned for you. and what if you regretted that decision later? what if he couldn’t be enough for you?

no. he wouldn’t let that happen. he couldn’t risk it.

by the time sunghoon reached his workshop, his heart was heavy with the decision he had made. he stepped inside, the familiar smell of fabric and wood filling the space around him, but it no longer brought him any comfort. he stood in the dim light, surrounded by the tools of his trade—the very things that had brought him success—and felt nothing but emptiness.

he wouldn’t confess. he couldn’t.

because he loved you too much to ask you to settle for less.

the tension between you and sunghoon hung in the air like a thick fog, clouding everything you had once held dear.

he avoided you, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. each passing day, you found yourself hoping—desperately—that he would come to you, that he would say something to stop the impending wedding. but instead, sunghoon pretended to be okay. he carried on with his work, his life, as if the confession hadn’t happened. as if you hadn’t bared your soul to him and he hadn’t done the same. he buried his emotions, putting on that same calm, controlled front, and it drove you mad.

he wouldn’t fight for you.

your heart ached with the realisation, and it became painfully clear during the next few days that sunghoon had no intention of changing the course of things. the silence between you both was unbearable, the distance growing wider with each passing moment. and just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your parents made it worse.

they scheduled an appointment with sunghoon for the most painful task yet: designing your wedding dress.

the irony of it was too cruel. sunghoon, the man who knew every inch of you, who had memorised your shape, your measurements, who had held you so intimately in his arms, was now tasked with crafting the gown you would wear as you married someone else. it was the final blow, the final insult, to a relationship that had been ripped apart by circumstances you couldn’t control.

when the day of the appointment arrived, you found yourself standing outside his workshop, dread pooling in your stomach. you didn’t want to go inside. you didn’t want to face him, not after everything that had happened, and certainly not for this.

with a deep breath, you pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar space that now felt cold and foreign. sunghoon was already there, standing by his work table with rolls of fabric laid out in front of him, but the usual warmth in his eyes was absent. he looked up when you entered, his expression neutral, professional. he greeted you with a small nod.

“let’s get started,” he said, his voice low, as if he too was trying to suppress the emotions that lingered just beneath the surface.

you could barely look at him. the air was thick with tension, and you forced yourself to speak, though your voice came out flat, distant.

“i don’t even know why i’m here,” you muttered, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “this is just… a formality.”

sunghoon’s eyes flickered briefly with something—hurt, maybe—but he masked it quickly. “your parents want you to have the perfect dress. it’s important to them.”

the atmosphere inside sunghoon’s workshop felt suffocating. you sat rigidly on a small chair, staring at the neatly folded fabrics in front of you while sunghoon prepared his tools. everything about the moment felt forced, mechanical, nothing like the ease and flow of your previous sessions together. you didn’t want to be there. and you were making it painfully clear.

sunghoon turned to face you, holding a few sketches in his hand, his face expressionless. but you could sense the tension in the air, the unspoken pain that lingered between you both. he wasn’t the same, and neither were you.

“so,” he began, keeping his voice calm and professional, “do you have any preferences for the neckline? maybe something you’ve always liked?”

you shrugged, not even looking up at him. “don’t know. don’t care.”

his brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, nodding as if that response was perfectly normal. he glanced down at the sketches again, adjusting the paper. “okay… how about the fabric? i was thinking something soft, maybe silk? or—”

“whatever,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “doesn’t matter.”

sunghoon paused, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. you could feel his gaze, heavy with concern, but you refused to meet it. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how hurt you were, how badly you wanted him to say something, anything, that would change this.

he sighed quietly, turning back to his worktable. “i just want to make sure it’s perfect for you,” he said softly, his voice gentle but strained. “this is an important day…”

you clenched your jaw, the words digging into your heart like shards of glass. an important day? for who? certainly not for you. he kept talking about the wedding as if it were inevitable, as if you were excited about it, and it made your blood boil.

“what about the waistline?” he asked again, forcing the conversation to continue. “something fitted, or maybe a bit more relaxed?”

“i don’t care,” you replied tersely, your tone sharp. “you’re the expert, right? just do whatever.”

the silence that followed was deafening. sunghoon stood still for a moment, his hands resting on the fabrics, his back to you. you saw the slight slump in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table just a little too tightly, and for a second, you almost regretted your words.

but the frustration bubbling inside you wouldn’t let up. you had come here hoping, praying, that he would give you a reason to stop the wedding, that he would fight for you. instead, you were sitting here discussing necklines and fabric as if everything was perfectly fine, as if you weren’t on the verge of losing everything.

he turned back around, this time holding a measuring tape. “let’s… start with your measurements,” he said, his voice sounding tired, defeated.

you stood up reluctantly, moving toward him, your movements stiff and reluctant. you stood there in the middle of the room, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest.

sunghoon stepped closer, the tape measure in his hands, and for a moment, you both stood in silence, the tension between you thick and suffocating. his proximity felt overwhelming, but this time, it wasn’t filled with the same spark as before. instead, it was heavy, burdened with all the things you both refused to say.

he hesitated for a second before gently wrapping the tape around your waist. his fingers brushed lightly against your skin, but there was no tenderness in the touch. it was robotic, methodical, like he was forcing himself to distance every part of him from you.

“what about the sleeves?” he asked quietly, trying to fill the silence. “long or short?”

“whatever,” you snapped. “it doesn’t matter. none of this matters.”

sunghoon froze for a moment, his hands stilling against your waist. the silence stretched between you, thick with unresolved tension, before he pulled away, the tape measure slipping from his fingers. he turned to face you, his expression strained, frustration and confusion swirling in his eyes.

“what’s going on with you?” he finally asked, his voice low but firm. “why are you acting like this?”

you stared at him, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and sorrow. his question was the breaking point, the floodgates that had been holding everything back bursting open all at once.

“why am i acting like this?” you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion. “because you’re standing here, pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not!”

sunghoon’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

“this dress… this wedding… none of it matters to me!” you continued, your voice growing louder with every word. “i don’t want this. i never wanted this. and you know it, sunghoon. you know it better than anyone!”

he opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. the words kept pouring out, all the frustration and pain you had been bottling up for weeks finally spilling over.

“i’ve been waiting for you to say something, to do something—anything—that would make me stop this wedding. but you’ve just been standing there, acting like this is what i want when you know it isn’t!” your voice cracked, your hands trembling at your sides. “why won’t you say anything? why won’t you fight for me?”

sunghoon stared at you, the weight of your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. he looked down, his shoulders sagging as if the burden of everything you had just said was too much to bear.

“i… i thought this was what you wanted,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i thought you deserved someone better than me. someone who could give you everything i can’t.”

you felt your heart clench painfully in your chest, the ache of his words almost unbearable. “that’s not for you to decide!” you shot back, your voice breaking. “you think i care about any of that? i don’t. i never did. the only thing i care about is you.”

the silence that followed was thick with raw emotion. sunghoon stood there, his expression torn, his hands trembling at his sides. he looked like he wanted to say something, like he was finally ready to fight, but the fear in his eyes held him back.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “i’m so sorry.”

the apology shattered whatever was left of your composure. you turned away, not able to stand the sight of him any longer.

“i don’t want to wear a wedding dress if it’s not for you,” you said quietly, tears brimming in your eyes. you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to leave, your heart breaking with every step you took toward the door.

sunghoon didn’t try to stop you. he just stood there, broken, as you walked out of his life.

it was the dead of night, the streets shrouded in silence, broken only by the soft crunch of your hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path. you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. not when you had finally made your decision. with nothing but the small bags clutched in your hands, you walked with purpose, heart pounding as you made your way toward sunghoon’s home.

the weight of the evening air pressed against your skin, thick with the lingering tension that had been suffocating you for days. since that fateful conversation at his workshop, the ache in your chest had only deepened, every moment spent away from him gnawing at you. there was no escaping it. you couldn’t go through with the marriage. not when you knew where your heart truly lay.

the small house loomed ahead, a single dim light flickering from the window, signalling that sunghoon was still awake. your pulse quickened, the gravity of what you were about to do hitting you all at once. you were throwing away everything—your family’s expectations, your arranged marriage, the life you had been destined to live—all for him. and yet, none of it scared you.

because sunghoon was worth it. he was the only thing you wanted.

you reached the door, your breath shallow as you hesitated for a split second, your heart hammering in your chest. then, without another thought, you raised your hand and knocked.

a few moments passed, the silence inside the house dragging on like an eternity before you heard soft footsteps approaching. the door creaked open, revealing sunghoon standing there, his hair tousled, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw you standing there, drenched in moonlight, with your bags in hand.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with confusion, concern flickering across his features as he glanced between you and the bags at your side. “what are you—what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you stepped forward, crossing the threshold into his home without invitation, leaving him to close the door behind you. the room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows across the familiar space where so much of your time together had unfolded. it felt both comforting and surreal to be here now, on the brink of something monumental.

“i couldn’t do it,” you said at last, your voice barely a whisper but filled with determination. “i couldn’t marry him, sunghoon.”

he stood there, frozen, his brow furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean? the wedding—it’s—”

“i don’t want to marry him,” you interrupted, turning to face him fully, your eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made your heart race. “i don’t want any of this. the wedding, the life my parents planned for me—it’s not what i want. it’s never been what i wanted.”

sunghoon’s breath hitched, his confusion deepening, but you could see the glimmer of hope slowly dawning in his eyes. “then… what are you saying?”

you dropped your bags to the floor and stepped closer to him, the raw emotion swirling inside you finally breaking free. “what i’m saying is that i’m here, right now, because i’m choosing you, sunghoon. all i’ve ever wanted is you. i thought—i hoped—you’d feel the same. but you never said anything. and i can’t keep waiting.”

his eyes widened, a storm of emotions flashing across his face. he looked torn between disbelief and longing, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

“i know you think i deserve better,” you continued, your voice growing more urgent, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to him, “but i don’t care about that. i don’t care about anything except you. all i wanted—all i ever wanted—was for you to tell me you felt the same. to fight for me.”

sunghoon swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on yours, and for the first time since you had shown up, he looked utterly vulnerable. “i do… i do feel the same, y/n. i’ve always felt the same. but i thought—” his voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “i thought you’d be better off without me. i was afraid i’d ruin your life if i held you back from everything you deserve.”

you shook your head fiercely, your heart pounding. “you’re wrong. you never would have ruined anything. the only thing that’s been ruining me is the thought of losing you.”

tears welled up in his eyes, his composure crumbling as the weight of his emotions finally caught up to him. he took a step closer, his hands reaching out to gently cup your face. his touch was warm, familiar, filled with the tenderness that had been missing for so long.

“y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “i don’t deserve you… but i can’t let you go.”

your breath caught in your throat as the distance between you vanished. his hands trembled slightly against your skin, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. you could feel the raw need, the longing that had been suppressed for too long, finally coming to the surface.

“then don’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “don’t let me go, sunghoon. i love you. i’ve always loved you. and i’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.”

the words seemed to unlock something in him. without another second of hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, passionate kiss that spoke of all the years of pent-up desire and unspoken feelings between you. it was everything you had hoped for, everything you had longed for—pure, unfiltered love.

when he finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed, as if savouring the moment.

“run away with me,” you whispered, your hands still tangled in his shirt. “we can leave this place, start a new life. i don’t care where we go as long as i’m with you.”

sunghoon opened his eyes, searching yours for any hint of doubt, but all he saw was determination—love. a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped him, his fingers tracing the lines of your face as if committing them to memory.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking. “are you really sure about this?”

you smiled, leaning into his touch, your heart swelling with the certainty of your decision. “i’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

sunghoon closed his eyes again, pulling you into a tight embrace, as if afraid to let go. “i love you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice raw with emotion. “i’ve always loved you.”

tears of relief and joy welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest, holding onto him like he was your lifeline. this was what you had been waiting for. this was all you ever needed.

“we’ll leave tonight,” he whispered, his voice resolute. “we’ll start over, just the two of us.”

you nodded, a smile breaking through the tears as you felt the weight of the world lifting from your shoulders. this was your new beginning. your future with sunghoon, the one you had always dreamed of.

and together, you knew you could face whatever came next.

the moon hung low in the sky, casting its pale glow over the winding road that stretched out before you and sunghoon. the cool night air clung to your skin as you both moved in silence, hearts pounding in unison as you left the only life you had ever known behind. with each step, the weight of your decision lifted, replaced by a thrill that sent shivers down your spine.

you glanced over at sunghoon, his face illuminated by the moonlight, a mix of determination and exhilaration playing on his features. his hand gripped yours tightly, as if afraid to let go, as if letting go would mean losing you forever. neither of you had spoken much since leaving his house, but the unspoken understanding between you was stronger than ever.

the path ahead was unknown, but that no longer frightened you. in fact, it excited you.

as you crested the hill that overlooked your town, you both stopped for a moment, turning to take in the view one last time. the place where you had grown up, where your families lived, where your life had been planned out for you—it all felt so distant now, like a world you were no longer part of.

you turned to sunghoon, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the enormity of what you were doing. “so… where are we going?”

he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with that familiar spark of ambition you had always admired. “there’s a city,” he began, his voice low and steady. “a place i’ve always dreamed of going. it’s known for fashion, for artisans, for people like me who want to make a name for themselves.”

you could see the excitement dancing in his eyes, the dream he had always kept close to his heart. “i’ve heard of it,” you said, your smile growing. “you’re talking about sorina, aren’t you?”

he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. “yes. it’s always been my dream to open my own studio there. to create something that’s entirely mine. but… i never thought i’d actually go. i didn’t think i’d have the chance.”

your heart swelled with pride and affection as you looked at him. “well, now you do,” you said softly. “and you’re not going alone.”

his expression softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you—really looked at you, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening. then, with a quiet laugh, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

you smiled against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “you’re wrong. you’re everything i deserve.”

with one final glance at the town behind you, the two of you turned and began your journey to sorina, the city of dreams. the road ahead was long, but the promise of a new life with sunghoon made every step feel lighter. the thought of him creating masterpieces, of you being by his side as his muse, filled you with a hope you had never known.

and as the two of you settled into your new life in sorina, that peace only grew. sunghoon’s dreams were coming to life with every stitch, every sketch. he was thriving in a way that you had always known he could, and you were there to see it all. your role as his muse was more than a job or a title—it was the culmination of your deep connection, your bond that had grown through years of friendship and love unspoken.

there were moments when the thought of your parents crossed your mind. the guilt of running away lingered in the back of your heart at times, knowing how much they had hoped for you to marry into the match they had chosen. you wondered if they were angry, disappointed, or hurt by your decision. but as days turned into weeks, those worries faded. you knew your parents—they loved you too much to hold on to their disappointment forever.

"i’m sure they’ll forgive me," you said one evening, resting your head on sunghoon's shoulder as you both watched the busy city streets from your studio. "they’ll come to understand… eventually."

sunghoon looked at you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of doubt. “you really think so?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “i know they will. they’ve always wanted me to be happy. and when they see how happy we are… when they see all you’ve achieved, they’ll realise we made the right choice.”

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “i hope so,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “i just want you to have everything you deserve. i want them to see that.”

“they will,” you reassured him, your voice soft but firm. “they’ve known you all your life, sunghoon. they know how hard you’ve worked. they’ll see why i chose you. why we chose each other.”

sunghoon’s lips curved into a small smile, one that made your heart flutter. “we’ll make a life together that’s worth showing them. one day, when they see what we’ve built, they’ll understand.”

and deep down, you knew he was right. your parents loved you, and in time, they would see the joy that your life with sunghoon brought you. they would forgive the abrupt departure, the wedding that never was. because while it wasn’t the life they had envisioned for you, it was the one you had always dreamed of.

as sunghoon’s studio grew, and as the two of you thrived in sorina, you no longer felt the weight of your decision. you had chosen love over duty, dreams over expectations. and in the end, you knew it would all work out. one day, when the time was right, you would return to your parents—not as the daughter who had run away, but as the woman who had found her happiness.

for now, though, the life you had built with sunghoon was everything you had ever wanted. the city of fashion, the thriving studio, the man you loved—it was more than enough.

and with every stitch sunghoon sewed, every dress he designed, you were reminded that you had made the right choice. together, you had found your place in the world. and you had no doubt that the people you loved most would come to understand that too.

BONUS SCENE !

in sorina, life had unfolded beautifully, and not just for sunghoon. the city may have been known for fashion, but it was also a hub of opportunity for anyone willing to carve out their own path—and you had done just that.

while sunghoon spent his days sketching and tailoring in his studio, you found your own passion and footing in the city. before long, you’d built something of your own—a modest business in jewellery making, a craft you had dabbled in back home but now took seriously. the bustling markets of sorina were filled with artisans from every walk of life, and soon your intricately designed pieces caught the eye of locals and visitors alike.

at first, it was a hobby. a way to pass the time while sunghoon worked. but it didn’t take long for you to gain recognition. your designs, delicate yet bold, paired perfectly with the high-end garments sunghoon was crafting. your pieces began to complement his work, and you both realised the potential of collaborating together—not just in love but in business.

the two of you often worked late into the night, your small workbench tucked in the corner of his studio. sunghoon would be bent over his latest creation, needles and thread in hand, while you arranged shimmering stones and metals into intricate patterns.

“you know,” sunghoon said one evening, breaking the comfortable silence between you, “we’re going to need a bigger space soon.”

you looked up from your work, raising an eyebrow. “why’s that?”

he smirked, nodding toward the scattered jewellery and sketches of new designs littering the floor. “because you’re taking over my studio, that’s why.”

you chuckled, shaking your head as you placed a bracelet you’d been working on down on the table. “i think we both know you’re the one taking up all the space. these fabrics are everywhere.”

“touché,” he replied with a grin, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “but i’m serious. your business is growing. people are asking for your pieces specifically now. you’ve got clients lined up at the door. we can’t keep pretending this is just a side gig.”

you shrugged, but your smile betrayed your pride. “maybe. but it’s not like i’m doing this on my own. you’ve helped me a lot. half of the clients only know about my jewellery because it’s paired with your designs.”

sunghoon shook his head. “no. they come for you. you’ve worked hard to get here. don’t downplay that.”

his words warmed your heart, and you leaned back in your chair, watching him for a moment. “i guess we’ve both come a long way, haven’t we?”

he met your gaze, the familiar spark of affection lighting up his eyes. “more than i ever imagined.”

as the weeks passed, the collaboration between your jewellery and sunghoon’s garments became the talk of the city. nobles and royals who ordered dresses from sunghoon began requesting matching jewellery pieces from you. soon, you were no longer just sunghoon’s muse or his partner—you were an established name in your own right.

at events and gatherings, whispers of “have you seen her designs?” filled the halls, your name mentioned alongside sunghoon’s, but never overshadowed by it. the partnership between the two of you was equal, balanced by your mutual respect and admiration for one another’s talents. while sunghoon’s studio flourished, so did your own reputation. you set up a small stall in the heart of the city, your jewellery catching the sunlight and drawing the attention of passersby. with each new order, you found yourself standing more confidently in this new life you had built.

one evening, as the two of you sat in the now-expanded studio, reviewing orders and discussing the future, sunghoon turned to you, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“so, what’s next for you? you’ve got clients begging for your work, you’re practically a household name now,” he teased, nudging you gently. “maybe it’s time you open your own studio, too?”

you smiled, considering his words. “maybe. i’ve been thinking about it, actually.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “oh? you’ve got plans you’re not telling me?”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “no, nothing concrete. but i do think it’s time i take things to the next level. i want to expand, maybe hire a few apprentices. i don’t want to just make jewellery—i want to teach others how to do it, too. there’s a lot of talent in this city that deserves to be nurtured.”

he looked at you with such pride in his eyes, it made your heart swell. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you shrugged, trying to downplay your excitement. “i’m just doing what i love.”

“and you’re damn good at it,” he said firmly. “don’t forget that.”

it wasn’t long before you made that dream a reality. you secured a space in one of the city’s artisan districts, a small but beautiful shop where you could sell your creations and train apprentices in the art of jewellery making. the shop was an extension of yourself—chic, elegant, and full of the creativity that had always been a part of you.

soon, your shop became as well-known as sunghoon’s studio. the two of you were often talked about together, not as a couple who had run away from their old lives, but as two individuals who had built something remarkable side by side.

every piece of jewellery you created had its own story, just as every dress sunghoon designed had its own flair. and while you both supported each other’s work, neither of you relied solely on the other to define your success.

the life you had built together in sorina was not just about love—it was about the dreams you had both nurtured and the independence you cherished. you were more than sunghoon’s muse. you were a creator, a designer, a businesswoman in your own right.

as the sun set over sorina, casting a warm, golden glow across the city, you stood at the threshold of your jewelry shop, taking in the scene before you. the streets were alive with people bustling between vendors, artisans displaying their wares, and musicians playing softly in the distance. your heart swelled with contentment as you looked out over the life you had built, not just for yourself, but alongside sunghoon.

the sound of footsteps broke you from your thoughts, and you turned just in time to see him approaching. his face was illuminated by the setting sun, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he drew closer. even after all this time, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you saw him. there was something about the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the kindness in his eyes, that always made you feel safe and cherished.

"busy day?" he asked, his voice low and familiar as he stopped in front of you, his gaze warm.

you nodded, leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile. "busier than usual. i think word is spreading faster than i expected. what about you? how’s the studio?"

he chuckled, glancing back toward his own shop down the street. "same here. we might need to start hiring more help."

you laughed softly, and the two of you stood there for a moment, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere around you. the city was beautiful in the fading light, and for a brief second, everything felt perfect. but then sunghoon shifted slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you saw something deeper flicker in them—something that had never fully disappeared.

without a word, he reached out, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a little too long. the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension that had only grown stronger over the months.

“you’ve got a speck of something,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more intimate. “right here.”

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as his fingers lightly grazed your skin. “thanks,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

sunghoon didn’t pull away immediately. instead, he stayed close, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something different in his gaze tonight—something tender, yet intense. and as you looked back at him, you felt the weight of all the moments you’d shared, the quiet yearning that had simmered between you since the day you’d arrived in this city together.

“do you ever think about… everything?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness. he didn’t have to explain further. you both knew exactly what he meant.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing. “i do,” you admitted quietly. “every day.”

his hand slipped down to your waist, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. but when you didn’t pull away, he drew you in closer, until your bodies were nearly touching, the warmth of his chest radiating against yours. you could feel the rise and fall of his breath, and it was intoxicating.

“i never imagined…” sunghoon’s voice was barely a whisper now, his lips close to your ear, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. “that we’d end up here. together.”

you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you took in his scent—so familiar and comforting. “me neither.”

for a long moment, you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of you daring to move or speak. the world outside seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you, suspended in time.

and then, without warning, sunghoon pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“i love you,” he whispered, the words escaping him like they’d been held back for far too long. “i’ve always loved you.”

your heart stopped, the confession hanging in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. you had known it, felt it, but hearing the words out loud still sent a rush of emotion through you.

“i love you too,” you replied softly, the words coming out as naturally as breathing.

sunghoon smiled—a slow, tender smile that reached his eyes. and before you knew it, he was leaning in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly grew more passionate. it was as if all the years of longing, of unspoken feelings and missed opportunities, had finally culminated in this moment.

you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. his lips were warm and gentle, yet insistent, and you could feel the depth of his emotions in every touch. the world spun around you, but all you could focus on was him—the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, sunghoon rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the evening.

“i don’t want to wait anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “we’ve waited long enough.”

you nodded, your heart swelling with a sense of certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time. “neither do i.”

you smiled, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over you. the future felt bright, and for the first time, you could see it clearly—both of you, side by side, not just as lovers but as equals. you were no longer running away from the life you didn’t want. instead, you were running toward the life you had built together, filled with love, passion, and the promise of a beautiful tomorrow.

you weren’t just sunghoon’s muse. you weren’t just a girl who had fallen in love. you were a woman who had taken control of her destiny, and now, with sunghoon by your side, you were ready for whatever the future held.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl (the rest will be tagged in the comments since tumblr is acting up again )

#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fics #sunghoon oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen royal au

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petriwriting · 2 days

Text

Finally. - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary/Prompt:

You: Do you hate me or something? Theo: Not at all. I’m actually quite in love with you, really.

Oneshot. Theodore & you confess feelings for one another in front of everyone at a party.

The crowd is shuffling in and out of the Slytherin Common room. Music is playing, there's laughter and the murmur of people chatting and flirting. It's busy, everyone's enjoying themselves one way or another, everyone's faces are illuminated by the candle light and the reflection of light from the candles bouncing off the waters of the black lake, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Theodore is sitting across from you in the large bay window sill, gazing out, somewhat hoping to catch a glimpse of the giant squid. You have a drink in your hand, and so does he. Neither one of you are drunk, but the alcohol, even in a smaller amount gives you courage. Theo sighs, taking a sip from his cup. "You wanted to talk?" he says, smiling slightly. "I just wanted your company." you say. luckily the bulk of people are far enough away to where you can hear each other despite the crowd. You sighed, slightly defeated. "Do you just, not like me?" You ask, a wash of regret coming over you, you had just asked your longtime best friend, and secret crush if he didn't like you... you'd be terrified for whatever theo had to say. "What?" he asked quickly, leaning in slightly closer. "Do you hate me or something?" you ask. Theo looks at you and tilts his head, with a slight confusion. His eyes look so dreamy by the candle light, you hate yourself for thinking that. "No." he says quickly.

You took a deep breath of relief and finished your drink. "oh, I just kind of thought..." you trailed off, partially because theo interrupted. "Not at all. I'm actually madly in love with you," he says, sarcastically, it kind of stings for him to joke about. But it is at least somewhat truthful. "no, but really." he corrects himself. "I just..." he starts, as you listen intently, you pull your knees to your chest after crawling up near the window to sit by him. "I was scared of the feeling at first, which is why I avoided you like crazy. but then I came to accept it." he explains.

Theodore Nott is the kind of guy to be quiet, mysterious and brooding at first. It takes some time to open up for him, and feel comfortable. Despite his reputation among friends as one of the chatty popular slytherins, There was more to see than just a facade. You were grateful to see beyond his facade, It is why you liked him so much. Especially when he would open up about his thoughts and feelings, which he had done with you many times, even without a cup of liquid courage.

"I feel so stupid." you say. "You are not stupid." Theo defends. "I just don't know how to express how I feel... so I'm trying," he says. you feel sort of warm. It's comforting. "This is so embarrassing," you admit, looking at the students around the common room, chugging, dancing and having fun. "I've really liked you since we first met." you said. "I always thought it was unrequited."

Theo smirks, he's getting cocky and gaining confidence now. "It's not," he says. "I just never knew how to say it." he explains. "Say what?" you pry, leaning into his confidence to boost his ego. "hm?" he smirks again with a slight chuckle. "That I love you." he says. "Then don't say it." you say. He looks at you, finishing his drink. "What are you on about?" he asks. "Don't just say I love you... show me you love me." you tease.

Thedore smirked, knowing there were prying eyes. This little game you were playing would just become a lot more fun. He leaned over you, and kissed you, deeply. Instinctively your arms outstretched over his neck. After some time, his hand found its way to the small of your back. The drinks you had were just enough alcohol to make you carefree enough to kiss at a party, in front of most of the slytherin house. It was exciting, exhilarating. When he pulled away, Theo was practically on top of you. You stayed like that for a moment, you could smell his musky cologne and feel his body heat. your cheeks flushed with warmth.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut short when you heard your friends. Pansy was smiling widely from across the room, while Blaise had hollered at you two "Ow ow!" he called out, the two of you were embarrassed but shrugged it off. "Finally, Merlin, the sexual tension between you two." Draco snarled, he didn't mean it to be rude, but was being brutally honest. "How cute!! Carry on, ignore us!" Pansy called out, directing everyone's attention away from you and theo.

"I've been waiting for you to do that for a long time."

#reader insert #my writing #x reader #hp x reader #hp #slytherin x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott #harry potter

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 days

Note

First of all, Happy Birthday!!! I adore your writing, the meet cute series is such a fun idea and I read each chapter as soon as I get the notif 😆

I also have to say I love the way you write Kid, he’s a tough character to “get” if you know what I mean 🤣

Now for bday event! If I might request:

Sanji ❤️

SFW

"You make it hard to focus when you’re this close."

Fem!reader

🫶

@jessterofthecourt Thank you so much for the birthday wishes and for your kind words! ❤️ I'm really happy you like my series and my obsession with Kid 🤣 And thank you for requesting Sanji, he really is one of my favs and I only wrote one chapter for him for the meet-cute introduction! I missed him. I hope you enjoy this and thank you again! ❤️

Source for Pic

Focus

Word Count: 1470

Tags: fem!reader; meant to be set in modern world AU; teacher/student moment;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You're a rookie chef and the mastering of the julienne cut is making you doubt your worth. Sanji helps.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid

|Masterlist|

“I can never get this right! Ugh, how do you get your julienne slices so even, Sanji? I’m so envious!”

The blond sous-chef next to you chuckles as his fingers move with fluid gestures. His hands make the knife glide easily over the vegetables. It’s as if he isn’t even guiding it, and the object has a life of its own.

“Well, chérie, it’s easy.” You drop the knife gently next to the cutting board and the butchered chops of carrots and stare at him. There’s a small smile curving his lips upwards. The eye that isn’t hidden behind his bangs is fixed on the job he’s performing, but you feel as if you hold all of his attention.

Sanji has a way of making you feel like that, as if you are the only person in the room or the most important thing happening around him. You have a feeling that even if the world were burning, his eyes would still be on you.

“Practice.” He finishes with a chuckle at the same time as he sets the vegetable aside and fishes another carrot from the vegetable pile. You raise an eyebrow as your eyes scan the perfectly sliced vegetables on his side, and the pig-lunch scraps on your side.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in your hands, hoping to hide your shame, your frustration, and the tiniest bit of doubt creeping in. “I have been practising, Sanji! You know that! But this is all I have to give…” Reaching for the uneven vegetables, you show him the only thing you were able to accomplish: a big pile of nothing.

Yet he doesn’t make fun of you, nor does he yell at you as some of the other seasoned chefs do when you screw up. He wipes his hands on the rag hanging by his apron and approaches you gently.

Your breath hitches, and your throat feels tight. He’s intoxicating. Not just his scent - tobacco, spices, and something sweet - but his presence. It’s like he commands the space around you, drawing you into him like a gravitational pull.

“These are not half-bad.” He selects some of the straighter pieces and sets them aside. Then he takes some of his pieces and places them next to your pile. “See, chérie, they’re not that different.”

“They’re insurmountably different.”

And you show your disbelief by crossing your arms and staring at his face, deadpan. Another chuckle graces you, and now that you’re closer, you notice that there’s a spark in his blue eye whenever he chuckles. It’s beautiful.

“D’accord. Okay, they’re slightly different.” He raises his hand to his chin and scratches it before staring back at you. “See it like this: these are the ultimate goal.” He points to his slices. “These are the stepping stones to achieve said goal.” He points to the wonky slices and then to the ones that are straighter. “You stepped on this stone, and then this one, and now it’s just another small step to this one! Voilà.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Sanji. I’ve been staying late and practising every day this week, you know that! I should be better by now! Maybe not perfect, but better!” Frustration seeps into your pores, and you slam your palm on the steel surface. “I suck at this. Maybe I should just quit.”

Sanji suddenly becomes very quiet. His eyes take you in, absorbing every bit of discouragement and disappointment showing in your features. “Don’t say that.”

“What? That I should quit?” You bite your lower lip, trying very hard to keep the tears of resentment inside your tear ducts, where they belong.

“No. Well, that too, but no.” His hand reaches out and he caresses the side of your face, slowly arranging a stray lock of hair. “Don’t say that you suck. Have a little bit more faith in yourself.”

“It’s hard, Sanji.”

“I know, chérie, I know.” His smile is understanding, and you get the feeling that his life story might not have been the easy, breezy, happy, and entitled life you thought he had at first sight. “But I’ll help. Grab the knife.”

It’s hard to take back the knife again, knowing you’re about to fail once more, but you decide that it’s even harder to keep looking at his piercing gaze. So you do as he says, taking a deep breath and making a mental note of giving this just one more shot. Then you can quit with a clean conscience and the satisfaction that you tried and gave it your all.

As soon as your hand touches the knife, Sanji walks behind you, his figure towering over yours, enveloping you in a dizzying fog. Suddenly, he’s all there is. There’s no kitchen, there are no vegetables, there are no knives. It’s just you, him, and his strong arms protecting you from the world.

Then the illusion shatters, and you’re brought back to reality by a sudden shudder as he presses his chest against your back, his hand grabbing yours, and you have to bite your lip again, almost to the point of drawing blood just to ground yourself in reality.

“First things first, always check your equipment. A dull knife is a chef’s nightmare.” He turns your hand to check your knife, and you gasp at the gentleness of his touch. His face hovers over your shoulder, breathing down your neck and making all the hairs on your body bristle. “Perfect blade. See? You’re already doing great.”

Focus, focus, focus!

“Now we cut the ends of the carrot to get a stable base to work on.” He guides your other hand, and you do as he told you by holding the carrot and slicing the end. His hand helps you guide the knife, and it glides smoothly, making a perfect cut. Then the other end of the carrot. The thuds of the knife hitting the board are almost in tune with the thrumming of your heart, and you’re positive he can feel it.

“Now let’s slice the carrot evenly into planks, like this.” He commands you. His gentle voice hazes your senses as he guides the knife easily. You’re barely doing anything more than trying to keep your legs from wobbling. “Now we stack the planks like this.” He’s whispering in your ear, and since when have carrots become so sexy?

Focus, damn it! Focus on the damn carrot!

“And we slice into thin strips for the julienne.” Your hands are burning. No, not just your hands, your whole body seems like it came right out of the furnaces of hell itself. You’re scalding! Feverishly hot. And you have no idea how to put out this fire. “See? Do it yourself now.” Your hand moves automatically, but your mind is somewhere else. You have no idea what you’re doing.

“Chérie?” His words lick your ear and daze your senses. The sensuality of the syllables coming out of his lips makes you crave more. More words, more whispers, more touches… just more! “Are you alright?” Your name coming out of his lips jolts you, and you squeal.

Fuck.

“I… I… yes… I…” You close your eyes tightly, your hand gripping the knife so hard that the handle almost groans in protest. “It’s just… You make it hard to focus when you’re this close.” You breathe out, embarrassment turning your ears red.

“Oh!” He seems regretful and is about to pull away, but you move the hand that’s not holding the knife and grasp his forearm to keep him in place. It takes every ounce of control in you not to squeal again when your fingers clutch the taut muscles in his arm.

“Don’t.” Don’t what, genius?

“Don’t?” He asks.

“Don’t let go…” Your eyes are still shut tight, and you’re too scared to open them. You don’t want to face him, you don’t want to face the strips of carrot you julienned, you just don’t want to face disappointment.

“I won’t. I promise.” There’s a hint of something else in his voice, something you can’t quite place… affection? Regard? “But you must also do me a favour.”

Anything…

“What is it?”

“Open your eyes for me, chérie.” His voice is like velvet. He’s happy and… pleased? “Look.”

When you finally open your eyes, Sanji is holding the slices of julienne you just cut. They’re nearly perfect. “Are those mine?”

He chuckles again near your ear, and goosebumps prickle your skin. There’s something fluttering in your belly, but you’re not quite ready to acknowledge it yet.

“They are. And they’re perfect.” Oh… it’s pride. That’s the ‘something else’ in his voice. You turn to him in wonder as he leans closer, his whisper leaving your lips tingling, craving the brush of his. “Perfect, just like you.”

Oh…!

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #modern day au #sanji x you #sanji x reader #reader x sanji #blackleg sanji x reader #sanji

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wandasreallover · 3 days

Text

Elizabeth olsen x reader|

Title: A Moment to Remember

Warnings:none :)

The soft hum of evening chatter enveloped the quaint rooftop restaurant, cresting with laughter and mingling aromas that swept through the air, where night began to embrace the city. Dressed in a flowing emerald gown that mirrored the lush foliage of the garden planted around the patio, Lizzie sat beside you at a round table covered in flickering candlelight. Around you, a colorful group of family and friends gathered to celebrate the success of her latest film, a heartfelt family drama that had tugged at the heartstrings of audiences everywhere.

The table was adorned with an array of delectable dishes and drinks, where glasses clinked like cheerful bells every few moments. Among the group, Natasha Lyonne animatedly recounted a behind-the-scenes mishap from “Poker Face,” her voice a joyful melody laced with humor. Having known Lizzie for years, Natasha feigned confusion at the radiant glow that surrounded Lizzie, whose attention seemed fully consumed by you.

You could feel the gentle warmth of Lizzie's hand clasped over yours beneath the table, her fingers tracing soft patterns along your palm. The world around you dimmed as you focused on the beautiful woman beside you, her heart-stopping smile stealing your breath away. Her wide, soulful eyes locked onto yours—soft and full of unspoken affection.

“Honestly,” Natasha continued, oblivious to the connection unfolding before her, “I had no idea that someone could mess up a simple card game so dramatically. You’d think it was a heist movie!”

The nearby laughter rang out like music. Lizzie’s lips curled into a half-smile, but her gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on you. You could feel your cheeks warming as her thumb brushed delicately against your wrist.

“Lizzie?” Natasha persisted, her voice teasing and curious, now honing in on her friend. “How about you, Miss Movie Star? What do you have to say?”

It took Lizzie a moment to snap back from her daze, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What? Oh! I’m sorry, Nat—did you say something?” She blinked, suddenly coming back into the chaotic rhythm of laughter and chatter, her gaze narrowing as she tried to catch up with the conversation.

“Just wondering if you had any funny stories from the set,” Natasha replied, grinning devilishly as she leaned in. “Or do you only have eyes for your… date?”

Caught in the flurry of Natasha’s playful interrogation, Lizzie stuttered, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. “I—uh, I mean… we had a lot of fun. The kids got ahold of the script and turned it into a musical number!” The words tumbled out of her lips, though they barely resembled sentences.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her expression dance-like and mischief-laden. “Right… but speaking of eyes, I’d say your focus is elsewhere, pretty girl,” she teased, shifting her pointed gaze toward your interlinked hands. “Is it the food or the company? Because let me tell you, your date has some fierce competition.”

You chuckled softly, feeling flattered and amused by the playful banter. “I mean, the food is great, but I can’t lie—having Lizzie beside me definitely ups the quality of this dinner.”

Lizzie’s cheeks deepened in color, but her grip on your hand tightened, clearly enjoying the attention. “That’s sweet,” she murmured, smiling softly in your direction before returning half-heartedly to Natasha. “But I swear, we really did have an amazing time filming. It’s just the kids—I mean, they’re too talented for their own good, honestly. What can I say?”

The conversation flowed on, transporting to various topics, yet it always felt like all roads led back to the two of you. Lizzie immersed herself in the moment with you, occasionally breaking the fourth wall of the party atmosphere to steal glances, each look heavy with affection.

As the waiter swooped in to serve dessert, Natasha took the opportunity to lean across the table, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. “So, what’s the deal with you two? The chemistry’s practically palpable, and I’d be surprised if even the cake didn’t notice.”

The laughter burst from the table, light and teasing, but Lizzie’s candid laughter quickly turned into a smirk. “Okay, okay! Yes, there’s something between us,” she confessed, her voice bright yet suddenly vulnerable. “I’ve just enjoyed these moments—so intimate and real. It feels nice to share it with someone who understands.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Natasha teased, her good-natured ribbing morphing into sincerity. “Just don’t forget that this place is a dinner, and you have to leave some of that love for the rest of us, too!”

You chuckled, unable to help the warmth spreading from your heart. Lizzie’s eyes met yours once more, and in that shared silence, you sensed the fabric of something beautiful unraveled between you. “I promise,” you whispered, “I’ll always save more love for you.”

As dessert plates crowded the table, Lizzie shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. The noise around faded into the background. You could feel her warmth, a gentle yet furious flame, pulsating against your skin. She brought your interlocked hands just slightly closer to her face, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles, purposefully slow, her eyes sparkling like liquid diamonds.

Natasha observed, a knowing smile forming as she grinned at your intertwined hands. “Well, looks like I've got front-row seats to the cutest show of the night,” she said, raising her glass. “Let’s toast—to love, friendship, and sweet moments that make life worth living. To you two!”

With glasses raised high, the laughter swelled around you, washing over like a comforting tide. Lizzie’s fingers wrapped tighter around yours, as the connection you shared transcended mere words. It was in gestures, shared glances, and a simple understanding that shone in the night.

In that lively rooftop setting, surrounded by laughter and celebration, it was clear that this evening was not only a celebration of Lizzie’s success, but of the tender bond that had begun to blossom between you. In every moment, every smile, you felt the essence of something beautiful taking root—a lifelong memory created under the stars.

And as the night stretched on, you made a promise to yourself: this was only the beginning.

For: @lizardslizzie

#elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen fluff #elizabeth olsen x reader

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clarisse0o · 1 day

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 82

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Friday, April 22nd; 10:30 PM - Porto Beach.

Who would have thought we had a little bit of luck in this life? For our last evening in Portugal, we get to attend a concert on the beach. It's a beautiful way to wrap up our vacation.

“Are you having fun?” my girlfriend asks me at the end of a song.

“Oh yes!”

She laughs as I struggle to catch my breath. I don’t like dancing, and yet, I’m having the time of my life tonight. I’m literally drenched in sweat, and it takes a lot for that to happen.

“I can see that. You should take a break.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Shall we go sit further away?” suggests Alexia, who must have overheard us.

“Yes, good idea. Plus, the later it gets, the more crowded it seems.”

Lucy takes my hand to follow the others and lead us out of the crowd. A few minutes later, we find ourselves sitting on the sand. I settle between Lucy’s legs, and she pulls me close against her. We have a perfect view of the stage. I turn my head towards our friends, who are sitting in the same position. It’s really cool to be with them. Our couples have a perfect harmony, and we enjoy the same things. I don’t have time to think more before I feel Lucy’s lips on my neck. I smile and tilt my head a little more to give her access.

“It’s over,” I whisper.

“What is?”

“These holidays. Our little bubble.”

“Hmm... I’d say you’re wrong. Everything is just beginning.”

“How so?”

I think I can feel her amused breath escaping against my neck.

“Well, everything is just starting. Our bubble won’t disappear as long as we’re together.”

My smile grows wider. Actually, maybe she’s right. When we get back, we’ll finally be at ease. We’ve done a lot of things recently, including meeting her family. Everyone was fantastic. Jenni’s family was invited too, so I had Alexia’s support as I wanted, but I didn’t need it. I was really well received. It was truly a warm celebration. I understood why family is so important to Lucy when I saw her so close with hers. They’re close-knit, unlike mine. However, she still hasn’t talked to me about what she’s hiding. The harmony was so strong that I didn’t dare to spoil anything.

“I’m so thirsty!” Alexia complains. “Would you mind coming with me to the bar?” she asks.

“If you want, sure.”

“I can go if you’d like,” offers Lucy.

“No, don’t worry. We’ll be right back.”

I turn around to peck her lips before getting up. We leave with Alexia, leaving our partners behind us.

“I’m going to miss these holidays so much,” she comments.

“Same here.”

“Leaving here will bring us back to reality with a thud, given what awaits us when we return.”

“Oh no, please! Now’s not the time to think about the exam.”

Alexia laughs.

“Well? Haven’t you studied enough yet?”

“Yes, but it’s stressful.”

“Come on, you still have an entire week to work on the most difficult parts.”

“Hmm. We’re not there yet anyway.”

“You’re right. We have another problem on our hands.”

Indeed. We find ourselves in front of the stand, which is packed with people. I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

“We’re going to be here for a while, I think,” she says.

“Yeah.”

We wait for the line to shorten and keep ourselves busy chatting. We talk about a lot of things, but that’s what’s great about Alexia. We can talk about anything without any limits.

“So, with Lucy? Have you managed to find out what she’s hiding?”

I shake my head but smile, thinking about her. The way she looks at me every time I leave warms my heart. It’s like she’s afraid something might happen to me at any moment.

“No, not yet.”

“And doesn’t it bother you not knowing?”

“A little, but not too much. I kept secrets from her for a long time too.”

“That’s true,” she smiles.

When it’s finally our turn, we order our drinks and get something for Lucy and Jenni as well. We leave the crowded stand to return to our partners. I take a deep breath once we’re free.

“Phew, I thought we’d never get out of there.”

“Me too,” I giggle. “It’s suffocating with so many people.”

I nod. A year ago, I couldn’t even imagine being in such a place. I’ve come a long way since then. We head back to our spot. Unfortunately, two men, barely older than us, block our path. They look around Lucy’s age.

“Hey there, pretty ladies.”

“Oh great,” groans Alexia. “Just what we needed.”

Indeed, this is not good timing. With all these people, anyone could be around. Apparently, our skill with Alexia is attracting jerks who have had enough to drink to approach two girls alone.

“Are you going to join your friends?”

“No, our partners, actually,” Alexia answers, raising her drinks.

“Really? Who’d be dumb enough to leave two beautiful girls alone if that were true?”

I start to feel scared. I don’t like this situation, especially the way they’re being so pushy. Bad memories resurface.

“They’re not alone.”

Relief floods over me as I feel Lucy’s arm wrap around my waist. I look at her over my shoulder. She’s tense. Much more than she’s ever been.

“Lucy the loner,” one of the guys in front of us says in surprise. “That’s a surprise.”

Her grip on my hip tightens. I can feel her boiling beside me. I turn my gaze back to these guys, who suddenly seem less unfamiliar. Lucy the loner... What’s that about? I don’t like seeing Lucy like this. I lean over to kiss her cheek and take the opportunity to whisper in her ear.

“Let it go, baby. They’re not worth it.”

“Well, it seems like you’re not so lonely anymore.”

“Well, well. Jarod and Tom. It seems fate has brought us together again.”

“Of course, where Lucy is, Jenni is never far behind.”

Her presence reassures me.

“Let it go and move on. Neither of these girls are available.”

“Well. It looks like Lucy has finally found someone. That’s quite surprising. We all thought you’d end up alone forever.”

These words make me take a deep breath. I really don’t like the way these guys talk to Lucy. They don’t respect her. They talk about her as if she’s never going to achieve anything in her life, as if... as if she’s worthless. And I know what that feels like. I’ve felt that way enough times in my life to know what it’s like. I look at Lucy, who doesn’t even react. That’s definitely a first. She put me in my place plenty of times when we first met. I can’t let them talk about her like this. I just can’t help myself.

“Can you hold this for me, please?” I ask Lucy calmly, handing her the drinks.

My girlfriend takes them with total disbelief. Once my hands are free, I step forward toward these men who think they can act however they want, and I grab the front of the shirt of the first one I see. Surprise flashes in his eyes.

“Who do you think you are with your big attitude?”

“Ona, stop. You just said yourself they’re not worth it.”

“That was before they disrespected you. They’re judging you without knowing who you are. I’m going to make them eat their words, you’ll see!”

I raise my fist, but it’s intercepted before it can reach its target. It’s Lucy herself who stopped me, even though I put all my strength into it.

“Stop,” she repeats much more sternly. “This isn’t the time to start a fight, and anyway, I’ve moved on.”

“I just wanted to…”

“I know, sweetheart. But I don’t need anyone to defend me anymore.”

I relax, understanding her message. I release the man I had targeted, and it’s Lucy who ends up punching him. I don’t regret letting her handle it. She’s much stronger than I am, and let’s just say she didn’t hold back. She must have put all her anger into that punch, and I understand her.

“I never want to see you again. So stay away from us. Do I make myself clear?”

The other man beside him doesn’t even dare to say a word seeing his friend on the ground. I bet she managed to break his nose, but he deserved it. He ends up nodding when Lucy takes a step closer to him.

“Okay, we can go now.”

Lucy takes back our drinks that Jenni had been holding during this scene.

“We’re going to take a walk,” says Alexia, holding Jenni back.

“What? But…”

“Baby, I want to go back to the stage, please.”

“Fine,” the latter mutters.

I smile at Alexia. It’s indeed the right moment to leave us alone. Lucy is a ticking time bomb about to explode.

“We’ll catch up with you later.”

She winks at me before they leave. As for me, I put my hand around Lucy’s waist and take one of the cups.

“Come on, let’s go sit somewhere.”

She nods without a word. We move further away from the stage until we’re far from the crowd. We can still hear the music in the distance, but that’s it. We’re completely cut off from the world.

“Luce…”

“You understand?”

She’s completely withdrawn. I’ve never seen her like this before. We’re sitting next to each other, facing the sea where the waves are crashing in every direction. Tonight is a bit cooler than the other days, but it’s still bearable.

“Not completely… Just, don’t close yourself off. That’s what you always told me.”

She sighs and takes a sip of her beer. She then puts it down and finally turns to me. I can see her eyes shining in the moonlight.

“Come here.”

I open my arms to her, and she doesn’t hesitate to come into them. I tighten my hold to show her I’m here. On her side, she clings to me but says nothing. I don’t want to force her. It’s up to her if she wants to talk about it. There was a long silence before she found the courage to speak.

“My life here hasn’t been easy. I was first abandoned by my biological parents before being welcomed by a loving family.”

I get a knot in my stomach from the words she uses. Here it comes, she’s going to tell me.

“I learned to love them, and they taught me to feel loved in return... It was when I started school that it all began. I was excited at first. I thought I would make friends other than Jenni, who was my neighbor.”

“What happened…?” I murmur.

“I became a target, like a scapegoat. For them, it wasn’t normal that I had a black mother. That was their excuse to push me aside.”

“No way…” I breathe. “And Jenni…” I leave my sentence hanging.

“She stayed by my side, of course. She always has, even though, on the other hand, she was always popular. She had friends, but as soon as they saw me being attacked, she would defend me. After a while, she didn’t even dare to leave me alone anymore.”

“That’s horrible…”

Lucy takes a deep breath. Her head sinks deeper into my neck.

“That’s how it was…”

“It never stopped?”

“Well… It eased off over the years. It was in middle school that things finally calmed down, but it didn’t last long. That’s when I started to be interested in girls.”

No way. That’s exactly why I could never fully come to terms with myself. I was afraid of that reaction. Why are people so stupid? We’re in an era where they should have a more evolved open-mindedness. What they did was just plain cruelty. I had talked to Lucy about my fears, but I never imagined she could have been a victim of it.

“And those guys then…”

“They were the ones who found out. The one I hit, Tom, had hit on me back then. I had turned him down, but he didn’t take it well. So he tried to tear me down any way he could. He overheard a conversation between Jenni and me about my doubts about my orientation one day, and he used it against me.”

“What a scumbag!”

The only regret I have is not being able to punch him myself. How does she stay so strong after that? I would have completely shut down in her place. It’s not normal.

“It’s okay, baby. Calm down.”

“Calm down!? You know I can’t stand people who judge and put others down just for fun! They don’t realize how much it destroys a person!”

“I know, that’s partly why I love you, but that’s just how it is. Whether we like it or not, there’s hatred everywhere in this world.”

“Stop it. In this case, it’s not hatred. It’s just harassment!”

“Ona.”

I fall silent as she straightens up so our eyes meet. How does she do it? I really don’t understand. Just a moment ago, her eyes were shining, and now they’re filled with determination.

“Tonight, that wasn’t harassment,” she says.

I tilt my head. I have a hard time following her.

“I had grown up in high school. I showed them I could fight. I got into sports and even became top of the class. I earned people’s respect. If I had wanted, I could have had lots of friends, but at that time, I didn’t want to. Hanging out with hypocrites at parties wasn’t my thing. That’s why they called me the loner.”

“But then… why did they respond to you tonight? It makes no sense.”

“Well, I think they were surprised to see me again. It was instinct. Everyone knew I left Portugal after high school. I rarely come back here.”

“I see… And your family? Did they know?”

“Not when it happened. They always found out afterward. I had become very reserved, and I didn’t trust people anymore.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?”

“I didn’t want to worry them. I already owed them so much. They were the reason I held on.”

“You’re the first to tell me it’s important to talk about it!”

“Yes, but you’re also the first to understand that it’s not easy.”

I sigh and nod. I understand better now why she never forced me to open up.

“That’s why you care so much about family…”

“Yes, that’s why. Family is important, even if we’re not connected by blood. Of course, there have to be good relationships, but generally, it’s those we can count on at any moment.”

I smile sadly and nod. She’s probably right. Even if it hasn’t always been smooth with my mom, I’m starting to see everything she did for me in a certain way. Plus, I had my dad too.

“You’re right,” I murmur.

She smiles at me before snuggling back into my arms. I take the opportunity to lie down and hug her. I think she needs it. I needed it after every revelation I made to her. I just didn’t dare ask for it. Now it’s different. We’re together. That’s what makes us stronger. It’s us against the rest of the world.

“Why did you date Keira? Not that I mind, but she seems like the type who could be like those people.”

A long silence follows my question. As she described to me, she could easily be that kind of person.

- Keira, it’s Keira. Yes, she could have been someone I hated, but she also had a difficult childhood.

- Oh... Really?

- Keira came from a tough neighborhood, but she did everything she could not to be associated with it. Proof of that, she made it to university. That’s where we met.

- I thought it was at a party?

- Yes, it was. At the freshman welcome party. Jenni had forced me to go. He wanted me to have fun, so I agreed, but in the end, I ended up alone in a corner... Until Keira. In fact, she was the only one who came to talk to me that day.

- Jenni dared to leave you alone?

- Yes, she chuckles. But I asked her to. She had the right to have fun too.

- What happened with Keira then?

- We talked, and she started flirting with me when she noticed I wasn’t indifferent to her charm.

- Is that how you two started dating?

- I had never been with anyone before, and I didn’t trust people much, so... no.

- So, how did she do it?

- She was persistent. Keira was very determined. The first day of the week after the party, she accompanied me to the café I frequented, and she remembered my order. Then she brought me my drink every day. She was very interested in me, and that’s how I grew fond of her.

- Is that what made you fall in love with her?

- No... I think it was more her personality. She had a big heart. That’s what set her apart from the people who persecuted me. She wanted to make a difference. She had a will of steel. She didn’t hesitate to stand up for the weaker ones, even more so after I told her my story. She helped a lot of associations to support people in need who wanted to change their lives.

My heart races. It’s cruel to say, but I’m quite glad she’s not here anymore. I wouldn’t have stood a chance against her.

- She seemed exceptional...

The tone of my voice makes her look up. She smiles gently, running her hand through my hair.

- Don’t get me wrong. She had her flaws too.

- I’d like to know what they were.

- She was very stubborn. Even more than you. And she had a knack for getting into trouble by challenging people stronger than her. When you come from a certain neighborhood, you can’t erase everything. She wasn’t really well surrounded.

- That doesn’t make her any less remarkable.

- No, for sure, but...

She falls silent and shrugs.

- Keira wasn’t perfect. I couldn’t even tell you why I fell in love with her anymore... Maybe because she never gave up on me.

- I think so too. Since you hadn’t known anyone else before... It makes sense that you got attached to her. But the fact that she wanted to help everyone was very honorable. I just don’t understand why she fell so hard.

- I think her past caught up with her. You must know what that’s like... Keira lost her father during our studies. She was close to him, just like you. He was a drug addict, but she tried to save him more than once. As for her mother... She never knew her. She had already died before she could remember her.

- Oh my God...

- I managed to get her off drugs from my side, but I think the emotions were too strong. She went back to her bad habits after that and never recovered.

It’s truly awful. We are really more alike than I imagined. She didn’t deserve this. She was a good woman trying to do the right thing. I understand better why Lucy says she appreciates my determination and doesn’t want me to lose it. She was afraid I’d end up like her ex.

- Her mind simply gave up. In the end, I didn’t recognize her anymore. I knew something bad was going to happen soon. Yet, I stayed by her side. I couldn’t do otherwise.

Her voice breaks, but who could blame her? If I didn’t have the mental strength she talks about, Lucy would have lost two women for the same reasons. I’m glad I didn’t put her through that.

- You don’t have to blame yourself for her death, Lucy.

- I know, I murmur. Some people simply can’t be saved. I learned that lesson well, but it was hard to swallow.

The information strikes me. I’ve heard those words somewhere before.

- Korbin... I whisper. That’s why you said...

She nods.

- I was thinking about her, yes. Because it’s the truth.

I feel sad.

- It wasn’t the same circumstances, but it comes down to the same thing. Whether the past catches up with us or we’re stuck in the past, it’s the same thing.

- It’s not right. Things shouldn’t be like this. Keira shouldn’t have fallen. And Korbin... She had the potential to get out too...

- But that’s how it is. We can’t save everyone.

Fate didn’t bring us together by chance. I’m sure of that now. For Lucy, I must be her greatest victory. Not only did she manage to save me, but now, here we are together.

- Camp Wiegman has been good therapy for me too, you know, she continues. I’ve learned to change people, just like Keira wanted. Some will continue their studies after school or even get a job thanks to the lessons we gave them.

I smile, because I’m going to be one of those people.

- Others will think about this experience for a long time. They’ll remember how annoying we were to them, but also how we managed to change their perspective. It’s this experience they’ll pass on to their children. Surely not their previous life.

Once again, I feel connected to this statement. It’s true for me too. I no longer see things as dark as I used to. For others, it’s something else. They’ve learned to respect others and to be more open-minded. Some, who must be like Lucy’s bullies, will stop picking on the weaker ones. At least, I hope so.

- That’s why I love my job so much. We change people who want a new life. Of course, not everyone can be saved, as I said. This world is too full of hatred to succeed... But if we manage to help a large number, it’s already a good start.

- You’re so right. I hated this school at first, but now, I think there should be more of them. Of course, it’s no walk in the park, but the results are worth it. You just have to hang on.

- That’s what I liked most about you. You’ve been through a lot too, yet you’ve emerged. You fought to take control of your life. That wasn’t the case with Keira.

- Yet, she had you. For me, it’s you who saved me. I wouldn’t be where I am now without you. You’ve been my rock from the beginning, and I know you will remain so.

- And you’re mine. You don’t realize how much you make me better and stronger.

- You were already strong enough before you met me.

- If you say so...

- I say so.

Lucy takes a deep breath as she sits up on her elbows.

- I think about it often, you know. In fact, if you want to know everything, I’m often afraid of ending up like before... Alone and weak.

I smile gently, stroking her cheek. So that was the missing piece of the puzzle. It was her fears. She always seems so strong, but deep down, she isn’t as strong as she appears. I understand better why she has always been so jealous. She’s afraid of losing me. It’s really sweet.

- You won’t be alone anymore. You have me and our friends.

- I know, Ona... But I can’t help it...

- Lucy, we are soulmates. We were meant to meet. I also felt lonely before us. I understand your fears very well, but you don’t have the right to doubt. You’re the strongest of us. If it helps, be as jealous as you want when someone approaches me. Shut them down even. It doesn’t bother me at all; on the contrary. When you do, it warms my heart because I feel like I’m yours. It helps both of us.

I see her relax before me.

- I love you so much, she murmurs.

She kisses me, and I let her because I know she needs it. We feel the same way. Neither of us thought we would find someone so compatible. Yet, here we are, and I wouldn’t trade my place for anything in the world. We complete each other and make each other stronger.

- You know, I wouldn’t be so quick to rejoice if I were you... I say between kisses.

- Oh? And why is that?

- We’re not going to leave each other now. You’re going to have to put up with me outside of school, and for a good while. Who says I’m not more annoying?

- Hmm... Believe me, if you become annoying, I’ll find ways to bring you back down to earth. Maybe I’ll force you to run... Or maybe I’ll...

I smile as I feel her hand slide under my t-shirt. I let her do as she kisses me until she starts tickling me.

- Ah! No! Not that!

She laughs as I squirm under her.

- What? You don’t like it?

- Definitely not

! Stop!

She bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but laugh too. It feels good. To laugh, but above all to be together. We were two wounded souls, and now we’ve managed to heal and become stronger together.

- I love you so much, my favorite commander.

She laughs softly before burying her head in my neck.

- I love you too, my favorite rebel.

Yeah, definitely, my life has become perfect.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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waughymommy · 2 days

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MOMMY KNOWS BEST ❤️

Chapter 14

Brian walked into the house and immediately burst into tears. He crumpled to floor and cried for his mommy. “Oh baby, my goodness what’s wrong?” she asked as she sat down on the floor next to him. He nuzzled his face into her chest. She held him tight, “Shhhhh, everything is ok. Mommy is here. Do you think you can calm down enough to tell me what happened?”

Between sobs, Brian tried to tell her about his day, “I I, wet my pull-up twice today and then I lost my paci, but Samantha found and gave it back to me. And then she told me I should wear thicker protection.” His speech sounded like that of an excited toddler, as his short sentences rolled one into the next, “And, and, and then I had to go to a meeting about a new client and it was Babies R Us. I got so nervous in the meeting that I tried to pee just a little bit, but but but…”. Brian wailed like a helpless child. He was so upset that he didn’t even notice that he was uncontrollably wetting his pants again. Rebecca noticed the growing wet spot on the front of his pants. She continued to act like a concerned mother, but inside she was elated. He was becoming a baby before her very eyes, “But what honey? Tell mommy what happened.”

“I, I, I…soaked my pull-up. I am so ashamed mommy, I’m becoming a baby. I don’t know how I am going to make it through work tomorrow,” he buried his head into her chest again.

“That was very of brave of you to tell me what happened. And you know what? You are just a baby. You are mommy’s special little boy. Babies have accidents. That why I put you in pull-ups this morning. But it sounds like Samantha might be right. We might need to send you in something a little thicker tomorrow. Although you are just a baby, just imagine that when you are at work, you are pretending to be a big boy and doing all the things big boys do. But when you get home, you won’t have to pretend anymore. Mommy knows its hard being a big boy. Now, I see a very wet little boy who is desperate need of a change,” she said lifting up off the floor.

Brian let her guide him back to the bedroom. He descended into a haze again, but he knew that mommy would make everything better. She laid out a changing mat on the bed and beckoned him over. She unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, “Ok step out these for me.” Brian stuck his thumb in his mouth and followed her directions. After taking off his pants, she pulled off his soaking wet onesie. “Lay down on the changing bad for me. Oh my goodness you are soaked. You really went pee-pee,” she said as she tickled his belly. Brian giggled behind his thumb. She tore off the pull-up and wiped him down with some wipes. You know what, I think we should get you into a bath. Won’t that be nice?” she cooed at him.

She led him off into the bathroom and set his naked butt on the toilet seat, his thumb never leaving his mouth. “Now you sit here like a good boy, while I start your bath.” Brian just nodded, content to let her do everything for him. She drew he bath and added some bubbles. “Ok, hop in.” Brian sat down, the water barely coming up over his crotch, but he didn’t mind. The bubbles smelled nice and it was fun to splash. “Brian, I got you something for bath time,” she said excitedly and produced a big rubber ducky. His eyes lit up. In the past, his adult brain prevented him from truly enjoying his toys, but this felt different. He was genuinely excited about the rubber ducky. “Can you tell me what sound a duck makes?” Rebecca asked as she kneeled down next to the tub.

“Qwack,” Brian chirped.

“That’s right!”she cheered. “Now you play with that while mommy cleans you up.” Brian moved his ducky through the water and splashed about, making all kinds of silly little sounds. Rebecca smiled and laughed at her silly little boy, “Mommy is so very happy to see you playing and enjoying yourself. Isn’t that so much better than worrying about all those scary big boy things?”

Brian fervently nodded his head and went back to playing. Rebecca grapped a wash cloth and started washing him all over. He bristled a little when she washed his face and behind his ears. “Can you stand up, mommy needs to wash that pee-pee and your cute little butt.” Brian did as he was told. She rubbed the washcloth over his crotch and his bottom. Brian’s thumb returned to his mouth and she washed him up. Two days ok, if she had done this, he would have been overcome with shame and embarrassment, but in this moment it felt right. He had not a care in the world. “Ok its time to hop out now.”

“But mommy, I don’t wanna. I was having fun with ducky,” he whined.

“I know sweetheart and I’m so glad that you are having fun, but mommy still has to make dinner. And I know a big baby that needs to get his diaper on. We don’t want you peeing all over the floor,” she guided him out of the tub and dried him off. Hand in hand, the two returned to the bedroom where she diapered him and dressed him in another onesie. She clipped on a different pacifier than he was used to and he made a face at Rebecca. “Mommy has already started getting my baby lots of stuff.” Brian didn’t respond, but simply popped the pacifier in his mouth. In just a matter of two days, Brian was growing more and more dependent on his pacifier. It soothed him. He recalled his mother saying that he had a hard time letting go of it when he was a toddler.

After he was diapered and dressed, she led back to the den and laid him down on the couch like she had done the previous evening. She went to the kitchen and retuned with a bottle of milk and then placed the headphones over his ears. “Remember, this music helps you relax and be the best baby you can for mommy,” she whispered and then kissed his forehead. Brian began to nurse the bottle and in a few moments his eyes closed. When she was certain that he was content, she went to the kitchen to make dinner. But before she started cooking, she pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts. She and Brian had gone out for drinks with Samantha on a few occasions. Although she didn’t know her well, they got along well. There was something about her she knew she could trust. She found her number and sent her a message: We need to talk.

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trailerprk-princess · 2 days

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♰⋮ adrenaline rush | rafe cameron x fem!maybank!reader

!!!: my work is not to be reused without credit/permission!

request rulesᯓ𖤐

warnings: drug use & underage drinking. 16+. word count: 1.83k summary: reader finds that her summer is rather boring compared to her brothers. rafe is there to fix that. authors note: i have so many ideas for maybank!reader! might have to make a section on the masterlist specifically for that

“How has your summer been?” Your coworker, Ameilia asks you as you handwash the dishes in the sink. You are apart of the kitchen crew at the country club as Ameilia got to be a hostess. You were jealous of her because she had a job that you wanted. It was not fair that they hid you in the back of the building with little to no interactions each day while Ameilia got to go out and be social.

“It has been decent,” you lie. Truthfully, you could not have hated the summer more. It was hard to enjoy it when your brother, JJ got to do all the fun stuff. He gets to go out and have adventures with his friends while you had to work. It has been incredibly boring.

You were not going to ask Ameilia the same question. You do not think that you can handle hearing about someone else's summer without having an emotional breakdown. She just smiled at you and walked off with a small tub filled with cleaned and dressed silverware. All your built up jealousy has turned you into a bit of a grump. You try not to complain or show it too much, but you were about to reach your limit.

You clock out of your shift thirty minutes early because the day has been weighing on you from working a double shift and all you wanted to do was go home. You walk out of the building through the back door. The sun has already set giving the back of the building an eerie look as the only source of light is from the light posts from above. The troubling vibe made you shove your hand deep into the front pocket of your slacks to grip your pepper spray.

You walk out towards the road to find a boy, about your age, maybe a little older leaned up against a tree by the side of the road with a lit joint in his mouth. You walk past him still gripping onto the pepper spray in your pocket.

“Hey, Maybank!” He calls. You turn around to face him, not sure who he is. “You’re Maybanks sister, right?”

“Yeah…” You answer, still trying to remember from where you have seen him before. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

The boy almost looked embarrassed and he furrowed his eyebrows together as if you offended him. “It’s Rafe. Rafe Cameron,” he tells you. Which makes everything click together in your head. “Oh, right! Sarah's older brother.”

He nods his head, “I’m also known for that.”

“Sorry about your friend,” you apologize. “I heard JJ put a gun to his head.”

“Are you willing to testify that?” He jokes as he puts the joint back to his mouth. You shake your head, “No.”

“Is your friend okay?” You ask. “Oh, Topper! Yeah, yeah, he’s fine.” Rafe says cooly.

“Thats good to hear! I think I am going to head home now,” you say as you jab your thumb to point to the road behind you. You turn on your heels and face the other way to start walking down the dimly lit street.

“Maybank!” Rafe calls for you one more time. You stop walking and turn around to face towards Rafe. He flicks the joint to the ground and steps away from the tree. “I’m going to a party tonight. Would ya like to come?” He invites you.

“I’m not really a big party person,” you admit. Honestly, the last thing you wanted to do tonight was party after a long day of working. “Okay… You can come to my place.”

You contemplate on the thought for a moment. “Sure,” you hesitate. And walk towards to where he is standing. “My car is this way,” he says as he places a firm hand on your lower back and leads you to the parking lot. You release the pepper spray and take your hand out of your pocket. If anything bad was going to happen, it was not going to happen here.

You consider that you might have been stupid for letting a strange boy that you did not even know take you to his place. Probably because he wanted to get into bed with you. He could be trying to kill you. But in the moment, it did not seem to matter. This is the summer fun that you have been waiting for that has been dropped off like a package at your front door. You were not about to give it up.

He leads you to his car. You did not know the make or model. JJ would have known, he was the car person in the family, along with your dad. It was a pretty silver color and you could tell that it was expensive just from looking at the exterior. Rafe leaves your side to go to the drivers door and unlocks the car. You get into the car and sit on the leather seats.

Rafe presses the start button on the car and leaves the parking lot. “I didn’t get your name,” he says. You smile and tell him, “It’s Y/N.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” he flirts causing you to smile wider. You never gotten much male attention in your life. Mostly because you did not want or seek it since the male role models in your life is your dad and JJ. And them alone is enough for you to swear off any man who tries to date you.

“You’re a lot quieter than your brother, y’know.” Rafe tells you. You shake your head, “I get told that a lot. Think it is because I am used to him getting all of the attention.”

“Pretty girl like you? I’d think you get a lot of attention.” Rafe confesses causing you to shake your head. “No, I really don’t.”

“Not even at work?” Rafe asks. “Nope, not even work. I actually get stuck back in the kitchen doing dishes. They don’t like putting the pogues in the front to be waitresses or hostesses. Ameilia does, she gets everything she wants.” You tell him with envy radiating off your voice.

“That’s stupid.” Rafe scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “You’re prettier than Ameilia. If you were a waitress, I would be there everyday. I doubt I’d be the only one who would be there to see you too.” He flatters, causing you to smile at him. “Thank you,” you say almost at a whisper.

Rafe pulls up into the drive of his house and you get out of his car along with him. He starts to walk towards the front door. You stay still in awe of the house. “Are you okay?” He asks you as you stand frozen in the drive. “Yeah, I just never been in a house so big before,” you confess.

“C’mon,” he says jerking his arm towards the door. You nod and walk with him through the front door and into the house. “Do you drink?” He asks as you follow him into the kitchen.

“Socially,” you lie. You have never drank alcohol before because you were always turned away from drinking. Mostly because of your dad. “Good,” he says as he leans into the fridge grabbing two glass bottles of beer. He twists the caps off of the beers and hands you one while keeping the other one for himself.

“Follow me,” he commands and leads you to the tall staircase that spirals upwards. You follow him to the top of the stairs and into his room. He opens his bedroom window and climbs out of it and onto the roof. You go to window and he helps you out and has you sit down by him on the rough shingles.

“How has your summer been?” You ask him trying to make conversation. “It’s been pretty lame.” He tells you as he takes a drink from his beer. “What makes you say that?”

“Got nothin’ going on,” he shrugs. “How has summer been treatin’ you?” He asks.

“Just like yours, pretty lame,” you laugh. “Oh, c’mon! Girl like you, you must be havin’ some type of fun.” He laughs and nudges his elbow into your side.

“Not really. Been working a lot. And I have been covering JJ’s shifts because he’s not showing up to work no more… He’s been too busy hanging out and having fun with his friends.” You explain to him.

“What is he doin’ with his friends that you can’t do?” He asks. “I guess, I’m jealous of all of the fun he is having.” You say playing with the bottle of beer in your hands. You take a sip of it, noticeably cringing at the taste. Trying to hold yourself back from getting into a coughing fit or embarrassing yourself by throwing up on the cute boys roof.

Rafe watches your face and lightly smirks. “You never drank before, have you?” You shake your and say, “No.”

“That’s okay,” he says, taking the bottle away from your hand. He sets the bottle beside him alongside his beer before standing up. “What are you doing?” You ask as he throws his gray snapback aside on the roof.

“Having fun,” he says before he lifts his shirt above his head. He reaches his hand down to you for you to grab and lifts you up to your feet. “What are we doing?” You ask. He looks over the ledge of the roof and down to the pool below. “Jumping,” he smiles.

You look down at the pool and you feel a sense of fear over take your body. “This could seriously injure us. What if we hit the concrete? We are going to break a leg,” you nervously ramble.

“Wow, you’re so much fun,” Rafe mumbles under his breath. You roll your eyes and take off your black head band and strip to your bra and underwear. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” you gripe as you backed away from the ledge. As stupid as it is, you took the chance and ran off of the roof and jumped into the pool.

You swim up to the surface to see Rafe looking down from you. “I can’t believe you did it, Pogue!” He exclaims with a laugh. You shake your head in annoyance. “You going to jump?” You shout at him. He smiles and walks backwards disappearing behind the roof before he runs and jumps into the pool with you. You watch him swim to the surface and you give him a small applause which causes him to bow.

“Nice jump,” you compliment. He smiles and swims up to you. “Wanna do it again?” He asks and your eyes widen. “Oh, please, no.”

“It was a good adrenaline rush, though.” You confess. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” He says as he inches closer to your face. “But not as good of a rush as this,” he smirks, pulling you in by the waist to kiss you.

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ily-sunghoon · 18 hours

Text

The Omen of Sterling | CHAPTER IV

Pairing : vampire!enha x fem!oc

Genre of this chapter : vampire, disgusting little smut scene with jungwon

POV : Author’s

Words count : 5.2k

WARNINGS : MDNI!!! food, blood drinking, pussy eating, nipple play, period cycle, curses, mentioned of kms, kinda power abuse, enha are simps, fighting, witchcraft, DO NOT PROCEED IF UNCOMFORTABLE lmk if I missed anything

Note : PHEEEEEWWWW FIRST SMUT CHAPTER! the smut scene is really short, but! enjoy! ALSO, TWO NEW CHARACTERS WOOHOOO <3 feel free to ask if you have confusion about anything! (dont ask me when will this end)

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @nshmrarki @capri-cuntz @millieinyourarea @strxwbloody @poeticjustice1010 @leesura @vousty (let me know if you want to be added)

CHAPTER IV: BLOODY NIGHT

Wilhelmina is in a good mood today, she’ll be back at her uncle’s mansion! Her favorite place ever, because everyone in the castle is not fun. Here in the mansion, they’ve got Ricardo and Jasper who are just as weird as her. Now, she heard that the new girl is also a fun person too! She can’t wait to meet her!

A little bit contrast for the seven vampires, Wilhelmina is like a thunderstorm. Sure, she keeps the house lively! But no one would deny the chaos that she would be making every five minutes is kind of difficult to handle.

“Tell me what happened while I’m gone. In full. Where is the new girl? I want to meet her.” Wilhelmina demands Jasper.

“Good timing, she’s in your uncle’s office.” Jasper grins.

“Oh! What chapter did I miss?” Wilhelmina smirks at the hinted statement.

“A lot! Go barge in, you’ll see for yourself.” Jasper whispered.

Wilhelmina walks upstairs to Jestel’s office with Jasper.

“I’ll wait here.” Jasper informed. Stopping right next to a vase.

Wilhelmina nods and storms uninvited. She clearly could see the way Jestel was so drooling over the new girl.

“Wilhelmina, how many times—” Jestel sighed at her behavior.

“GOOD MORNING! Hi, I’m Wilhelmina. I’m so glad we finally meet each other!” Wilhelmina smiles widely at Iolana.

“Hi! I’m Iolana. I heard about you from Jestel and Ricardo a lot!” Iolana smiles back, she gave her a smile that she didn’t give to any of those guys. A genuine, warm smile.

Jestel froze when he saw her smiling like that.

“My room is on the 4th floor! Please visit me if you have spare time. Or I can visit you! We can go shopping, gossiping, do each other’s hair—oh, wait! WOW! You have short hair, that’s rare!” Wilhelmina is shocked. She had never seen any girl with mid-length hair like Iolana before.

“Wilhelmina, manners.” Jestel reminded her.

“I apologize, Iolana. I was just curious!”

“It’s okay! My brother accidentally cut it during our duels.” Iolana answered, still with her warm smile. She feels safe around Wilhelmina, there’s no bad vibes from her.

“Are you planning to grow it?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t want to get some mouths on my new society.” Iolana giggled.

“Fuck them, you’re very cool!” Ricardo was right, Iolana gets along with Wilhelmina really well.

“Wilhelmina, watch the language.” Jestel reminds her again. “Get out, you’re disturbing our discussion.”

“Oh, my my! Iolana, you must be special. He hates discussion, let alone with a new girl that he just met.” Wilhelmina giggled. She loves teasing everyone in the house, especially her uncle. It gave her a sense of control and it’s fun.

“Don’t listen to her, Iolana.” Jestel tries to convince Iolana otherwise.

“You can ask everyone, Iolana. I might be a trouble, but I never lie.” Wilhelmina laughed this time. Surely Jestel can’t beat that statement, Iolana knows that it’s the truth.

“Are you done, Wilhelmina?” Jestel is panicking.

“He gave her his blood.” Jasper added, bursting into the room.

“Really, Jasper?” Jestel is frustrated right now.

“What does that mean?” Iolana plays dumb.

“Well, somebody is ready to settle down! Eager, aren’t we?” Wilhelmina is enjoying this. “Iolana, you’re truly special. Blood is a big deal around here.”

“Really?”

“Not necessarily!” Jestel panicked again.

“It’s the biggest love form for us Kroshoviens. Hope that helps!” Wilhelmina is giggling nonstop.

“Oh! Even if they mix the blood with somebody else’s blood too?”

“Well, they’re all confessing to you then.” Jasper shrugged his shoulder. “Who’s the other boys?”

“Saine, Jusarlie, and Sarco.”

“Sarco?!” They stopped for a second. “Sarco gave his blood to you?”

“Yes, yesterday after dinner.” Iolana explained.

“This is so fun!” Wilhelmina eyes lit up in excitement. “Hope you can handle the intensity, Iolana!”

“Wait, Wilhelmina, could you explain it again to me? I’m kind of puzzled here.” Iolana played her part.

“That would be my pleasure! Let’s go to your room, I’ll explain further.”

“Iolana, she might add a few lies.” Jestel warned her again.

“No, Wilhelmina never lie.” Jasper shoos them away.

“Bye, Uncle Jestel! Bye, Jasper!” Wilhelmina hugs Iolana’s arm and walks to the 3rd floor together while chatting.

Jestel is visibly bothered.

“Look who’s in a lovestruck now.” Jasper laughed at Jestel’s expression.

“I could handle those other two, but Sarco? Really?” Jestel faked a deep sigh.

“Don’t you think you should start to listen to Idris? None of his omen are proven wrong, especially for this girl.” Jasper gives him simple advice.

“Maybe I should, it is hard to believe this sometimes.”

—

“Wilhelmina, are you not bothered by my scent?” Iolana asked her when they reached the 3rd floor.

“Oh, it only works for the opposite gender! I feel comfortable with you even though you’re a sweet-scented human!” Wilhelmina explained.

“Do they just want my blood…? I don’t know who to trust right now.” Iolana frowned.

“Hey, it’s okay. I feel you, it must be very overwhelming. Take it easy, Iolana. I personally think that they’re in real lovestruck.” Wilhelmina waits for Iolana to open her bedroom door.

They walk in and sit on the bed.

“So… about the blood confession? I don’t know… could you explain more?” Iolana asked politely.

“Basically, if they give you, their blood. It means they’re consenting to you to call upon them whenever you want and need. Hence why we see it as the greatest form of love. It’s not common for one to give their blood so easily to someone they just knew. That’s why I called you special.” Wilhelmina explained.

“Is it that serious?”

“Yes! Only engaged and married people usually do that thing to each other. So, sum it up by yourself.” Wilhelmina laughed. “They’re so in love with you, they think you’re the one for them.”

“This is a bad thing, then?” Iolana gulps.

“Depends on how you look at it, me personally, it’s so fun! You can just summon them as you wish. How fun is that?” Wilhelmina tries to make Iolana see the bright and fun side.

“Whenever, huh?” Iolana nods and smirks.

“That’s the spirit!” Wilhelmina knew Iolana hides something mischievous behind those shy smiles. “Don’t you want to try to summon one of them?”

“Sure! Who should I call?” Iolana is confused.

“Call my uncle.”

“Okay, let’s try.” Iolana is giggling. She tries to focus herself while taking a deep breath. “Jestel, I need you.”

In a second, Jestel teleported in her room. He looks confused. “Iolana, did she ask you to do that?”

“We just want to try!” Iolana defends Wilhelmina who’s smugly grins at Jestel now.

“Okay, next time do it only if you need me, alright?” Jestel tried to be as soft-spoken as he could. It’s a funny scene to watch for Wilhelmina.

“Okay, Jestel.” Iolana puts up her innocent gaze.

“I’ll get going.” Jestel nods and walks out from her room.

Wilhelmina laughed loudly as Jestel had already walked up the stairs. “You’re so good at acting sweet, you should teach me.”

“The key is in the eyes. Just make it bigger, full of hope, and blink a few times, you know. Like this.” Iolana gives her an example. “Always work on men.”

“Let me try, let me try.” Wilhelmina closes her eyes, preparing to try the sweet-looking eyes method. She opens her eyes, giving it an essence of hope, and blinks a few times. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” Iolana claps her hand, proud of Wilhelmina. Girlhood is so fun.

“I’m going to use it against Jasper.” Wilhelmina mumbled to herself.

Iolana gives her a smug grin, “You like him, don’t you?”

“No, no, no! No way, right?” Wilhelmina’s nervous chuckles are enough evidence of her real feelings toward Jasper.

“Sure! No way, right?” Iolana mocks her.

“Don’t tell anyone! You’re the first to know!” Wilhelmina whispered.

“Let’s just hope Saine isn’t in his room right now.” Iolana whispered back.

A knock on the door made them jump. “Iolana, it’s me.”

Oh, lord. It’s Saine.

“Speaking of the devil.” Iolana laughed. “Come in, Saine.”

Saine walks in with a sweet smile, but it fades away immediately when he sees Wilhelmina. “Oh, my vamp, it’s you.”

“You gave your blood to her, right?” Wilhelmina strikes back. “That’s so sweet of you, Saine.”

Saine swifts uncomfortably, “Uh, yes. Anyways, I’m going for a walk in the town. Do you want to join me, Iolana?”

“Sure! Can we invite Wilhelmina too?” Iolana is in her innocent mask again.

“Sure.” Saine nods. Praying to every deity and his ancestors that he could think of right now.

“I’ll go ask Jasper.” Wilhelmina smiles at Iolana, then smirks at Saine. “Jaspeeer!”

“Stop screaming, I could hear you perfectly without all the screams.” Jasper shows up immediately at Iolana’s door.

“Relax, soulmate. Let’s join Iolana and Saine for a walk.” Wilhelmina chuckled.

“Sure, let’s go. I’m ready.” Jasper nods.

“Okay, our first stop is my father. He made a special necklace for Iolana. We should grab it first, I’m sure it can hide her sweet scent.” Saine smiles warmly at Iolana.

—

Holstein crouched in front of the last Sterling that he could bring here alive. Fortunately for him, it’s Tama Sterling! The eldest son of Tearle. Luckily, Tama survived his own suicide. So, here he is! Lying on the special prison’s floor, helpless, out of energy, hungry maybe? He’s also very angry. Only if he is a vampire, they’ll be dead by now.

“Is your sister alive?” Holstein asked.

Tama remained silent.

“She’s important to me.” Holstein said again. “She might be the one.”

“Over my dead body.” Tama mocks him.

“You’re so hard to talk to, just like Jestel. I’m sure Iolana is just like me. Easy to talk to, cold-headed, and not stingy.” Holstein scoffed. “Don’t worry, Tama. You’ll be a vampire soon.”

That can’t be happening, what are their plans now?

“Without your memory too, isn’t it sweet? You’re going to be our little dangerous weapon.”

“I’d rather die.”

“You don’t get to choose here.” Holstein hits Tama’s head, not enough to make him die, but enough to knock him out.

—

Iolana stands up and hugs Saine’s arm. Ready for the quick speed she’s going to face. They’re instantly gone in a second, it takes fifteen seconds to get to the Cairneye’s Mansion. Iolana never realized how far it was. Maybe yesterday she was really enjoying the view.

“Papa!” Saine shouts for his father.

“My ears,” Idris acts like his ears are hurt by Saine’s voice.

“Whatever, where is the pendant?” Saine is fed up with Idris’ playfulness.

“Oh, there’s a few things that I need to tell you. Are you sure these two can keep their mouth shut?” Idris points at Jasper and Wilhelmina.

“Guys, get ou—” Saine was interrupted by Iolana.

“They can stay. I trust them.” Iolana calmly answered.

“Are you sure?” Idris frowned.

“I have their secrets, it’s good.” Iolana tilts her head a little bit.

“Woah, what is my secret?!” Jasper is panicking.

“She’ll tell you later, now Uncle Idris tell us.” Wilhelmina glares at Jasper.

“Well, Iolana. Get ready to be hex!” Idris tells the news like it’s a birthday party, full smile, little claps. This man is crazy.

“Idris, slow down.” You can see Iolana is slightly panicking. “What did I do?”

“It’s not a you problem, it’s Slevado.” Idris laughed. “As usual.”

“Ugh, those bitches.” Iolana couldn’t hide her hatred toward that nation. “What did they have in mind this time?”

“First of all, do you know this?” Idris holds a necklace in front of her face, for her to see clearly.

“That’s… how did you… is my brother alive?” Iolana is out of words. The necklace was Tama’s. He always wears it wherever he goes. It’s his treasure.

“He might be alive, I’m not sure. Can you sense him? It took a lot of energy for someone to transfer their real time vision to me, let alone letting me grab a thing. He’s a great wizard.” Idris complimented Iolana’s brother.

Iolana doesn’t say a thing, she holds the pendant of that necklace and focuses her energy to find her brother.

“We found you in the woods. We don’t know who turned you into a vampire, but you’re safe here with us.” It looks like they’re having a feast. Tama is right there, sitting next to Holstein.

“I’m thirsty.” Tama looks miserable.

“I know, drink as much as you want.” The heir of Slevado is such a sweet talker. It scares Iolana off.

“You’re all so kind to me, what do you want from me?” Well, Tama is still Tama after all. Straight to the point and couldn’t trust people easily.

“Nothing! You can live here, this is your new home.”

Tama stares at him blankly. “Why?”

“You’re strong, you knocked out my guards. That’s why I decided to bring you here, to my castle.”

“You want me to be your guard?”

“No, we just want to give you a better life. That way you can explore more of your powers. We just want to help you.”

“Okay.” Tama is still not very friendly.

The vision ended. Iolana drops to the floor slowly after she witnessed all that. Saine holds her arms, he feels sad for her. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Turn me into a vampire.” Iolana said helplessly. “I’m your only chance.”

“Iolana, take a deep breath. What do you mean?” Wilhelmina crouched down.

“If they’re going to strike Krashoviel with Tama as a vampire. None of you will survive. Tama is a lot stronger than me.” Iolana explained.

“How strong was he as a human?” Saine asked, hoping that Iolana could provide a specific detail.

“As strong as Ricardo, but heartless.”

They gulp in unison. Ricardo is young, but he’s already almost as strong as Jestel. Maybe it’s all because of Sarco’s hard training, but since he’s young… he still follows his heart sometimes. He often lets emotion take over him.

“He might be stronger than Sarco now… with the fact that he’s also a new vampire as well.” Idris strokes his chin. “Where were you guys going?”

“Just a walk to see the town.” Saine answered.

“Cancel it, we need to do an urgent meeting.” Idris said calmly. “All of us.”

—

The palace is nervous, Idris said he will bring Iolana to the meeting today. How the table has turned, vampire fears a mere little human. Such a funny scene to watch.

“What do you think just happened?” Odelia asked Jestel.

“Another vision, maybe.” Jestel guessed. “He’s your son, you should know better.”

“They’re here.” Sarco said, standing up to greet Idris and the people that he brings to the meeting.

Idris opened the door and let his son, Wilhelmina, and Jasper enter the room first. Meanwhile, he enters the room alongside Iolana. Anyone who studied the art of people’s aura will definitely notice the flame and shadow competing to take over Iolana’s aura. The whole room are terrified. It’s so suffocating.

“Iolana, what happened?” Jestel asked her gently.

Idris let Iolana make the announcement. “My brother, Tama Sterling, has been kidnapped by Slevado. They turned him into a vampire just recently. You need to turn me into one too. I’m your only hope.”

“How so, my child?” Sullivan asked Iolana. Genuinely curious as to why she’s their only hope.

“They brainwashed Tama. It’s not good, Tama is far stronger than me even as a human. He will end you without any difficulties as a fresh vampire.”

“Do you know the possibility of his power right now?” Sarco asked.

“Do you know my grandfather? Thessio Sterling?”

“Oh, I’d rather not. I agree, turn her into a vampire.” Sullivan had a war flashback from that name alone.

“Is he that strong?” Wilhelmina is clueless.

“He’s dead and grandpa still has goosebumps just by hearing his name. What do you think?” Jestel asked Wilhelmina.

“Well, one of you should be Iolana’s host vamp then.” Wilhelmina nods.

“It’s not that simple. She needs to bond first.” Odelia is opposed to that idea. “Iolana, I’ll give you time to choose until Jestel’s birthday party.”

“Jestel’s birthday party? Do you want us dead, Odelia?” Sullivan sees this as an emergency.

“No, we must wait. Let her choose. Who wants to be his host vamp?” Odelia knows what’s going on.

Jestel, Jusarlie, Saine, Sarco, and Hiael raised their hands.

“Oh, my vamp.” Ricardo mumbled under his breath.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hiael?” Jestel yelled.

“What?” Hiael seems unbothered.

“Put your goddamn hand down.” Jestel couldn’t believe this.

“I was just answering Your Majesty’s question. I’m not going to be some ambitious Iolana’s chaser like you and the others.”

“Then put your hand down, don’t make this more complicated than it already is.” Saine tries to stay collected.

“I was just being honest?”

“See?” Odelia turns to her father.

“Iolana, I’ll guide you to choose a host vamp. Feel free to ask about anything. I’ll provide you with my information.” Idris said to Iolana.

“Sarco, I want you to train Iolana to be as strong as you in her human form.” Odelia ordered.

“Are you sure?” Idris is concerned. “As strong as Jestel would be enough.”

“We need someone who’s stronger than Tama, we can’t let anything out of control.” Odelia explained. “Do you copy, Sarco?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

—

Dinner time is almost ready, Iolana is in the bathroom. Preparing herself. Well, today is not nice to her apparently. She sees fresh blood on her panties. This is the least thing that she needs right now. Iolana panicked, she didn’t know what to do. She quickly changed her panties and washed the blood stained one.

“Iolana, let’s go.” Jusarlie’s voice makes her gulp.

“Jusarlie… tell Jestel and the others… my menstrual cycle is here.” Iolana holds the door with her body, just in case Jusarlie lost control.

“Shit.” Jusarlie panicked. “Wait, I’ll tell them. Don’t open the door to anyone before we gather here.”

For half a minute, she waits there patiently. Afraid of what could come for her.

“Iolana, it’s us.” Their voices somehow calmed her down. “Don’t open the door just yet. We could lose control.”

“What should I do?” Iolana is scared.

“Wilhelmina will take you to the basement’s bedroom. You should stay there for a few days.” Jestel explained. “It has triple protection door. You should be safe there.”

“T-triple?” Iolana was surprised by that.

“Yes, three iron doors. So, we can’t come in easily.” Jestel answered. “Why did it come faster than it should be?”

“Probably because I’m stressed.” Iolana took a guess. “I’m sorry to bother you, guys.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Jestel reassured her. “Okay, we’ll be out of the house for a bit. You listen to Wilhelmina, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Take care of her, Wilhelmina.” Saine taps his cousin’s shoulder.

They are out from the house, along with the butlers, maids, and guards. Waiting outside, while Iolana is being moved from her room to the basement.

“Iolana, let’s go.” Wilhelmina said gently.

Iolana opens the door slowly.

“Oh, wow. They would lose their mind if they were here. Come, quick.” Wilhelmina brought Iolana’s bag.

Iolana clings to Wilhelmina and they go to the basement in a second.

“Alright, I’ll explain fast. Every mealtime, they will give you food through this little food elevator. Remember to not open the iron door. It’s there for a reason. Jestel has prepared this room especially just for you, so I guess everything is here? If there’s anything you need, just talk through telepathy. You’ll figure it out. You’re a Sterling.” Wilhelmina smiles. “I’ll go. The door will be locked once I get out, only you can unlock it afterwards.”

“Thank you, Wilhelmina.” Iolana nods.

“Alright, you take care right here.” Wilhelmina waves before closing the ordinary door. Iolana could hear the iron door closing one by one while Wilhelmina walks out.

The basement’s bedroom is not bad, a good place even. Sure, it’s smaller than the original bedrooms, but it’s enough for Iolana. She began to unpack her things, praying that her menstrual cycle wouldn’t last long.

Meanwhile, the dining room is unbelievably quiet. Everyone tries their best to focus on their food and drink.

“Her scent. I’m going insane.” Jusarlie’s eyes dart to the secret door that Wilhelmina and Iolana pass through earlier.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Saine is doing the same thing.

“Hold yourself together.” Jestel told them.

Sarco seems like he’s not listening, though. He’s done eating. Now his eyes keep staring at that secret door.

“Sarco.” Ricardo tries to call him. No response.

“Sarco?” Wilhelmina is worried now.

Sarco is gone in the blink of an eye. They were all panicking and rushed to the basement. They felt great relief when they saw Sarco is just standing in front of the first layer of iron door.

“Iolana, summon me if you need me. I know you’re in pain. I could help.” Sarco sounds so tempting for Iolana.

“Sarco?” Iolana replied hesitantly.

“Yes, just remember that you can summon me whenever you want.”

“Iolana, don’t listen to him.” Saine scoffed. “Summon me, instead. I know you better than him. We shop together, remember?”

“You’re high, let’s go.” Wilhelmina tried to drag Sarco and Saine out of there. “Do not summon any of those guys, Iolana. They’re not in their right state of mind.”

“Sarco…” Iolana whimpers loud enough for them to hear.

Oh.

That awakens something inside them. Something deeper. It crossed the line, it’s unethical. It’s something primal.

“Iolana, summon me if you need help. You know the words, Darling. You did it once yesterday, you can do it.” Jestel bangs on the iron door.

“Iolana, I could bring you your favorite novels. Just summon me, okay?” Jusarlie is also banging at the door.

“Jusarlie?” Iolana did leave the book that she’s currently reading.

“Iolana, you need me, right?” Sarco looks so desperate right now. That is surely not on anyone’s bingo list.

“Iolana, go to sleep. Don’t listen to them.” Wilhelmina keeps her sane, to be honest. Iolana is close to summoning one of them.

She knows it’s wrong, but at the same time it feels very right. She needs one of them. Menstrual hormone messes up with her.

“My vamp, I need to call Idris.” Wilhelmina faked a deep sigh. “Jasper, help me.”

“Let’s go.” Jasper nods, they immediately go to Idris as fast as they could.

Idris, who’s currently busy with customers, is puzzled by their sudden appearance.

“Wilhelmina, Jasper, what’s wrong?” Idris stopped stirring his pot.

“Iolana is in her menstrual cycle, and we couldn’t get the four of them away from the basement’s door.” Wilhelmina informed Idris.

“Bloody hell, couldn’t it pick a better time? I’ll be there in a minute, keep an eye on them.” Idris nods at them. They rushed back to the mansion while Idris excuse himself to the guests, “Could you wait for maybe ten minutes? I need to take care of something. Vampz in love, you know.”

“Sure! We could wait, Sir Idris. Take your time.”

Idris smiled at the guests and rushed himself to Jestel’s mansion. He goes straight to the basement and found an uncomfortable scene. Jestel, Jusarlie, Saine, and Sarco are practically begging. Beyond desperate to open the iron door.

“Collect yourself.” Idris goes to his son first, he slaps him a few times. Not working. Saine is still high. “This is what you get from giving your blood so generously to someone you just met.”

“Is this normal?” Jasper is curious.

“Yes, this is normal, if Iolana is a vampire. Well, unfortunately for us, she isn’t a vampire. Yet.” Idris sighed. “They’ll riot if we drag them upstairs. I’ll knock them out. Ricardo, Jasper, Hiael, help me transport them to the living room.”

Idris began to knock them up one by one with just a touch on their nape. Idris is indeed scary.

The others do what Idris said earlier, they’re now gathering in the living room. Idris sealed access to the basement for the four of them.

“When will they wake up?” Jasper asked.

“A minute from now, two minutes maximum.” Idris sighed again. “This is troublesome, we have to turn her into a vampire as soon as possible.”

Saine opens his eyes. His head is dizzy as he tries to sit. “What happened?”

“You were high, you dumb fuck.” Wilhelmina scolds him.

“Oh, I remember now.” Saine nods. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine as long as she doesn’t interact with any of you lovestruck heads.” Wilhelmina scoffed again.

Jestel and Sarco are slowly opening their eyes too.

“Did I drink too much? What happened?” Jestel had no idea as well.

“You were high due to Iolana’s amazing scent.” Jasper laughed.

“Really?”

“Why do you think I need to call Idris here?” Wilhelmina scoffed.

“Oh, I apologize.” Jestel giggled.

“Iolana, please! You need me, Iolana. I could help you.” Ricardo mocks them.

“I didn’t say that.” Sarco shook his head.

“I am not even exaggerating anything, ask Hiael.” Ricardo is fed up.

“He’s right.” Hiael nods.

“Iolana.” Jusarlie sit straight, making the others surprised by his sudden move.

“Is he still high?” Ricardo looks confused.

“Iolana needs me.” Jusarlie said before completely disappeared in front of their eyes.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Idris panicked. He rushed to the basement to check if Jusarlie teleported or walked. Wilhelmina and Jasper follow him along.

Their hearts dropped when they saw the basement was empty. Iolana summoned Jusarlie.

Iolana summoned Jusarlie.

“Iolana! Iolana! Don’t be ridiculous now!” Wilhelmina panicked, banging at the door. “Iolana! What are you doing?”

“She’s in good hands.” They could hear Jusarlie’s low chuckle from behind the doors.

Idris couldn’t say anything. He was speechless. He went back upstairs, hugging Wilhelmina and Jasper.

“Idris, what happened? Where’s Jusarlie?” Jestel is puzzled. “Why did you put a spell to lock us out?”

“Let’s just hope Iolana is alive and well after this.” Idris said calmly.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Sarco is annoyed.

“She summoned Jusarlie.”

The room felt thick. Completely shocked at the announcement.

“But she’s mine.” Sarco said almost to himself.

“Papa, you’re joking.” Saine tries to be as positive as he could be.

“Saine, let’s just hope she makes it out alive.” Idris pats his shoulder.

“Why? Why? WHY?!” You could hear the despair in Saine’s voice. “Why not me? Why?”

“Idris, read the future. Is he going to be her host vamp?” Jestel looks very insane right now. He grabs both of Idris arms. “Tell me, Idris. We need to know.”

“I’m not sure, but you still have your chances. If she makes it out alive.” Idris answered as much as he needed to.

“I’m going to chop his head off.” Sarco closes his eyes, holding his anger in.

“This isn’t fair. I’m going to kill myself.” Saine grabs a fist of his own hair. He’s very devastated.

“Let’s just hope she makes it first.”

—

“Baby… you need me?” Jusarlie almost lost his self-control when he was being summoned at Iolana’s room.

“Jusarlie, if you drink some of my blood. Wouldn’t my menstrual cycle end faster?” Iolana asked a very difficult question right now since Jusarlie can’t think straight.

“Oh, baby… should we try?” Jusarlie voice got deeper. Iolana could see his eyes darkened at her words earlier.

“Let me make sure of something first.” Iolana smirks back at him. How brave. Jusarlie raised an eyebrow, what could she possibly do?

“Kneel.” Iolana stares right into his eyes.

Jusarlie suddenly lost control of his own body. He kneeled in front of Iolana. He doesn’t even know what is going on right now.

Iolana giggled, “I was right. Let’s try it, Jusarlie. I hate my menstrual cycle.” She shamelessly lifts her night gown and slides her panties down with that pair of innocent eyes staring at Jusarlie.

Jusarlie? Still kneeling. He’s drooling now. This girl is so fucking dangerous.

“Come and get it, Jusarlie.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, Jusarlie quickly positioned himself between Iolana’s thighs. He inhales deeply. “God, Iolana, you smell so good.”

Iolana squirmed under his touch, she held her whimper.

“Thank you for the meal.” Jusarlie didn’t waste any second to finally lick her bloody folds down. It was the most delicious blood he had ever tasted. He is becoming more passionate as he sucks her clit, trying his best not to bite her.

Iolana is a total mess, she couldn’t contain her moans anymore. Her hips moving up and down, all because of Jusarlie’s talented tongue. And he doesn’t plan to stop. He licks her like a kitten, her blood is intoxicating.

Jusarlie swirls his tongue inside her, making her cry out a whimper. One of his hands naturally reaches up to lifts her night gown higher. Once he found her breast, he fondles with them with both of his hands, pinching her nipples slowly and plays with them like a toy.

The pleasure from her core and her breasts is enough to make Iolana breaks, “J-Jusarlie… fuck… it feels so good.” Iolana’s breathy voice makes Jusarlie’s cock twitch.

“Don’t say it like that, you’re making me hard to control myself.” Jusarlie opens his eyes and stare at Iolana fucked up face. She is so fucking beautiful. He would not share this with others. Iolana should be his and his alone. He sucks at her pretty pussy until there’s no blood left coming from her vagina. It was the most delicious meal he ever had.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to be your host vamp?” Jusarlie climbs up while caressing her body, teasing her. Her jolts stroke his ego for sure.

“No, not yet. I haven’t decided.” Iolana is sweaty, out of breath, after Jusarlie devoured her pussy.

“I don’t want to share you.” Jusarlie holds her face gently.

“That’s your problem.” Iolana smirks again. “We’ll see if this method works tomorrow.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Never said I’m not.” Iolana makes him sit by pushing him while she raises her body to sit as well. “Now, you get out like the way you enter this room.”

And just like that, Jusarlie is gone in the blink of an eye. Iolana is very satisfied with the power she currently holds right now.

—

Jusarlie is back in the living room. His smile never leaves his face. He licks the remaining blood on the tip of his lips, unaware of the eyes that stare at him like he just did something really bad.

“What the fuck did you just do with her?” Jestel holds his collar.

“None of your business.”

“Tell me she’s alive.”

“Oh, she’s alive! Breathing normally, body temperature is normal for human, heartbeat normal, and… well pleasured.” Jusarlie giggled at himself.

“Did you fucking touch her?” Sarco’s blood boils.

“She asked me to. Not to brag about it or anything—”

A thud makes the whole room shocked. Saine just punched Jusarlie in the face.

“Don’t say any word about it.” Saine looks insane. He completely loses his mind. What the hell did he do wrong? Jusarlie is not better than him. Why did Iolana choose Jusarlie instead of him?

Jusarlie laughed like a maniac. “Just know that the sweet scent did not lie.”

Jestel, Saine, and Sarco stare down at him. Full of hatred. Full of jealousy. What makes the feeling worse is they can’t do anything about it.

In the very same room, Idris, Jasper, and Wilhelmina know that the future is going to be more complicated than they anticipated. As if the four of them being insane isn’t enough, Iolana chose the crazy path as well.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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