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gyuuberryy · 9 months ago

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 )

#ady 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀...👩🏻‍💻.ᐟ #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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hauntedfictionland · 7 months ago

Text

❝Euphoria❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys loves you. But he cannot have you. And it is killing him slowly.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heartbreak, one sided feelings and lots of tears.

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: In this timeline, Rhaenyra never moves to dragonstone so reader and Jacaerys grow together because I didn't really know how to fit it otherwise. It's something shorter than what I would usually write.

Jacaerys significantly remembers the first moment he fell in love with you. You, Aegon and Aemond's sister, younger than the eldest but older than Daeron. Kind of in the middle really but you fell in the youngest ones. After Criston had urged Aegon to spar with him, and ser Harwin Strong saved him, you came. He had been sitting in the garden with an oak tree above, a frown on his lips and a cut on his left cheek by one of Aegon's kicks. And you walked up to him. That same glow on your face and a light that didn't seem to be there until you arrived.

He never really noticed you until that moment. Jacaerys was the first born son of his mother. The heir after heir. While you were the fourth child, after Haelena and of course, Aemond. You weren't a son. Or a first born daughter. He didn't seem to have any particular reason to talk to you. But that evening changed it forever.

You bend down towards him, a comforting smile on your lips. He watches as you ruffle his hair, so gently it sends shivers down his skin. You were called the pink doe, because of how kind you were. And you wore pink and white most of the time. And of course, very beautiful. He never noticed it until that moment. How? he didn't know. Jacaerys was a child, but he could feel love. You pull out a white flower from behind you, tucking it behind his ear.

Jacaerys closed his eyes when you pressed your lips to his ear, right where the cut was. And suddenly he can't even feel the pain anymore. Not when there was you. And there was euphoria.

He started paying a lot more attention to you afterwards. In fact, you, were all that he had on his mind. How you laughed, the blushes on your cheeks when someone—especially Aemond, complimented you, or when your embroidery got noticed by your mother. The queen Alicent. He noticed it all. And Jacaerys couldn't get it out of his head. He figured it was a phase, that he'd eventually grow out of it, yet years passed by, you both turned ten and three and he was speechless when you would show up in a golden and red dress at some family dinner, then fourteen came and your scent, vanilla and rosemary, stuck in his nose when air blew and your gorgeously blonde hair waved in his face.

And then fifteen came, when he finally accepted the fact he was oh so inevitably and irreversibly in love with you. Everything about you, he would accept. That you were a green, that your brothers were Aegon and Aemond. And even if you were like them, like the hightowers—which you weren't, you were the kindest and most gentle heart he had ever met, but even if you were, he would accept it with open arms. Because you, to him, were his great love. His euphoria. A feeling he always felt with you.

A dream. Because one day becoming king, and you, to rule by his side? to be his queen? it was a dream. And it was the best and most beautiful one he wished for. However little did he know, it would only stay a dream.

Because one windy day, right when he wanted to ask you to marry him, right under that same oak tree, you told him something that broke him in two.

You were betrothed to Aemond.

“What?” his heart falls, throat swelling dry. He can barely speak.

“Our mother arranged it. She thought he and I made good company and...” you sigh, your eyes closed as you smiled, “I've loved him for so long. It finally feels a dream come true.”

Oh. He watched as you look so in love, just with the thought of him. Just like how he looks thinking of you. He watched as a feast was thrown in the celebration of both your betrothal, he watched as you dance with each other, his hands on your waist and a gleaming smile on your lips, he watched as you take your wedding vows, and share a kiss. He watched Aemond claim his euphoria and love it like he was the one meant to be with you. Not him.

Jacaerys never imagined himself crying under that same oak tree after your wedding was over. He also never thought he would cry himself sleep, pillow soaking in tears you caused. He never thought he would get betrothed to any other that wasn't you. Well, Baela now, looked joyed to be his future wife. And the future queen. Yet he can't stop thinking about the crowns you both would have worn. The children you both could have had. The love you both could have shared. He can't stop thinking about his euphoria.

And he doubts he ever would stop.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

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thanksbutno98 · 2 months ago

Text

Silk

John Price x female!reader OC

Summary: Being John Price’s friend with benefits ends in an ultimatum.

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, hurt, alcohol, threats of violence, not edited.

——————

Silk fabric, lace embroideries, and price tags that matched your monthly rent. Stiletto heels, frilly bows, in a dimly lit shop that offered champagne while you tried on clothes. This store was too rich for your blood but you had been talked into going here instead of a much more affordable option.

“Looks beautiful on you.” Lieutenant John Price was smiling softly watching you try on dresses for a work event.

He hummed or shook his head ‘no’ if he didn’t like a dress you tried on. It was actually refreshing to have an honest opinion rather than the typical male perspective of ‘you look good in everything.’ You did notice in your hunt John favored you in the color red but you chalked that up to his mind being stuck on the Liverpool match tonight.

You were currently in a midnight blue dress with a high neckline and long sleeves. The sleeves were sheer and top fitted, both having intricate lace work. The fabric was cinched at your waist while having a loose skirt that came down to just above your knees.

“It’s not too much?” You turned to look at John with a shy smile.

You watched his eyes carefully. Leaning to the side John looked at the mirror behind you to get another look at your ass. He was then shaking his head and wagging his eyebrows at you to show how good he thought you looked. This was the most positive reaction yet, so you knew you had to look as good as you felt.

“You look like one of those figure skaters, only the skirts long and your ass looks better.” John’s compliment didn’t help answer your question. It made you wonder if he had a thing for figure skaters.

“So it’s too much?” Your nose scrunched hoping this thought was wrong because the dress fit you like a glove and you looked amazing in it.

“Not at all. You said it’s a cocktail party, right? I don’t really know what women wear to those but this seems right.” John motioned to your dress. He was giving you bedroom eyes and you were having a sneaking suspicion he would be pulling you into the first secluded spot he could find to go down on you.

“You’re no help.” You grumbled playfully.

Turning back around you admired the smooth silk fabric and how when it caught the light it shimmered. It was perfect because you could wear it to more than just this event. That’s how you were justifying spending this much money on a single item.

“I’ll help you take it off.” There was a growl to John’s voice and you caught him winking at you through the store mirror.

“Down boy.” You giggled and gave him a wink back.

Those blue eyes caught yours again. There was a hunger in them that made your cheeks warm and hair stand on end. Desire looked good on John and you swore you could die happy staring into those eyes.

“You look stunning! What’s the occasion?” One of the store employees came over snapping you out of the deep eye contact you and John had been locked in.

You hated being helped at stores. It was like a nightmare to you to have a stranger weighing in on the clothes you were trying on. It usually ended up with you dressed in something that was completely not your style and then feeling so awkward you would buy it anyway.

“Cocktail party for work.” You told her.

You were now devising a plan on how to retreat as quickly as possible. This was the dress and you didn’t need to be convinced to try on something double in price because these employees worked on commission.

“It’s perfect, elegant and a little sexy. I do have another that might look even better. Before that, does your boyfriend need a suit?” You stiffened at the question.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You blurted out.

“Oh, my apologies.” She looked between you two with a tiny smirk that said she didn’t believe you.

“I love this dress, but thank you for the help. Let me get changed.” You smiled awkwardly.

Before the employee could respond you were retreating into the dressing room. You could hear muffled chatter which must have been John and her. If there was a little more privacy you would ask for help unzipping your dress instead of struggling to do it yourself, like you were now.

“She asked for my number.” John voice was just outside the changing room now. You weren’t sure why John was telling you this. It was infuriating to say the least but you couldn’t be mad about it. John wasn’t your boyfriend even though you wished he was.

“You give it to her?” You cringed at your question, hearing the jealousy in your voice. John chuckled on the other side of the curtain.

“No, like I said before I’m only seeing you. You have a date for the event?” John’s question had you feeling vindictive. If he could so nonchalantly rub in your face a woman was hitting on him you were going to make him just as jealous as you were.

“Why, you planning on being my date? Thought you didn’t do stuff like that.” Your snarkiness wasn’t lost on John but he continued on.

“Don’t want you to have to go alone.” John sounded smug.

That response riled you up. You were having trouble handling his possessiveness when you weren’t even his girlfriend. You knew he was only saying this because he didn’t want you going with Adam. The reason you knew that was because of John’s sarcastic and rude comments about Adam that were made at random. He taunted you at times during sex asking if anyone else could make you feel as good as he did. The answer was no, John usually dragged it out of you by edging you.

Pulling back the curtain forcefully you squared up to him. John stared down at you with a cocky grin and quirked eyebrow. Even when pissed off with him he didn’t find you intimidating, you were too sweet to actually scare him.

“I was going to ask Adam.” You said pointedly and then marched to the cash register.

“Ah, he’s still in the picture. I assumed you dropped him last month when you came over to my flat.” John sounded annoyed but you didn’t care. He grabbed your ass and you saw it as a way to pacify himself that he still had access to you in the ways he wanted.

“Well, I didn’t and you know that because you haven’t stopped making rude comments about him since then. And we work together so it’ll be easy since he’s already going.” You sighed heavily seeing the price of your dress ring up.

Reaching into your purse you pulled out your wallet in order to get your credit card. To your shock John already handed his over. Looking at him with your jaw hanging open you were about to protest that he didn’t need to do that. Before you could, his finger came up and slowly brought your chin up so your mouth clamped shut.

“My treat.” And with a wink John took his card back and handed you the shopping bag.

“You shouldn’t be buying me expensive things.” You had to jog after John because he left as soon as you were handed the bag.

“A thank you should suffice.” John stopped to let you catch up and then swatted your ass and you followed after him.

You took notice to how a few women your age stopped their shopping to gawk at John. It made you incredibly insecure to see the effect he had on women with no effort. It wouldn’t feel like your chest was being crushed if he was your boyfriend. Because then you could walk around with your head held high and a security that he had chosen you and you belonged to each other. But then again, he did look delectable in his fitted brown long sleeve, dark blue jeans, and burnt orange Carhartt jacket; it was hard not to stare.

“Well, thank you. Don’t do it again.” The smile you wore was enough John would absolutely be doing something like this again.

In fact it was why he just decided he’d be taking you out for a nice lunch too.

“Let’s grab something to eat, I’m hungry.” John took your hand and lead you along with him.

You weren’t as confident in London as he was. You tended to get batted around and overcharged because you were an American. John flipped his lid once at what someone charged you for a sandwich so you stopped telling him how much you spent on things. You were from one of the major cities in the U.S. so you thought London would be easy to navigate. But you were sorely mistaken, it was its own beast and you were happy John accompanied you today.

“Uh, all the restaurant are expensive around here. Why don’t we get something-“ You tried to speak because you knew buying that dress was going to leave you strapped for cash. There was no way you could justify spending an inordinate amount of money on one meal so you didn’t want John to do that either.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m footing the bill.” With a chuckle John brought you to an Italian restaurant he had heard great things about.

You cringed at that. Was it that obvious you were broke? Maybe your dingy old flat gave that away or how you avoided expensive things. Finances were hard, you made decent money but you found saving was difficult when you were helping support your dad. He had moved to the UK after you graduated university because he couldn’t stand living in a different country from you. You were incredibly greatful because it meant you weren’t here all by yourself anymore.

The transition was hard on him and finding work was even harder. Your dad didn’t have a college degree and had owned a bar his whole adult life back home, so he didn’t have references really. You actually grew up in the dilapidated apartment above the bar. So when you started making good money you moved him out of his disgusting flat with mice and put him up somewhere a little nicer, but not as nice as you thought he deserved. The goal was to help buy him a pub to run which is what you and him had been pooling your money together for to help that dream of his come true.

You felt out of place in a restaurant so nice that you would never be able to afford. John seemed in his element and you wondered how wealthy he grew up. He knew a restaurant this nice that had to mean he went around trying fancy places. John was charming to the staff and got you seated rather quickly. Wine was poured and a complimentary appetizer came out after you decided on entrees. You were becoming more and more self conscious wondering how many women he had taken to expensive places like this. Little did you know John never did this for anyone but you.

“Why’d you come dress shopping with me?” You asked with your eyes fixed on your plate.

“Didn’t have anything else to do today and I thought I’d be able to sneak into the dressing room with you.” John flirted and nudged your foot under the table. When you mentioned that you needed to go shopping John jumped at the opportunity this morning but you weren’t sure this was why. It honestly seemed like he genuinely wanted to spend more time with you.

“Cheeky.” It was both sexy and endearing John wanted to have his way with you even in public.

You thought he would shy away from PDA but he had no reservation holding your hand or draping his arm around you. Even now, the way he was looking at you told everyone around he only had eyes for you.

“Why do you like being taken out to eat so much? It seems to be your favorite thing.” Tilting his head slightly John’s gaze was focused on you trying to pick you apart.

You felt very seen in this moment and you weren’t sure if you liked it. John wanted to know you better, understand you on a deeper level. His inability to commit to a relationship didn’t match the way he felt about you. In fact he treated you like any man treated their girlfriend, when the two of you were around one another. John craved to know you, every curve, every dislike, the small things you did when you thought no one was watching, what made you light up and the things that made those bright eyes of yours sparkle. He wanted to consume you and make you a fixture in his life.

For all intense and purposes John did see you as his one and only, even though he stood in his own way to make it official. John felt you deserved better than a man like him. He was away too often and the idea of not coming home to you and breaking such a beautiful heart like yours would be a shame. John wouldn’t be able to live with himself at the thought that you would be spending your days mourning a man as rotten as him.

“I, uh. It’s personal I guess.” Shrugging it off you weren’t sure you wanted to get that deep with John.

“C’mon, I’m only curious.” John stared at you softly.

You two were interrupted for a moment as your food was placed in front of you. John’s eyes sparkled at the linguini and clams now sat in front of him. His eyes then shot to your dish and you felt like you could read his mind that he wanted a bite of yours. Nodding toward your plate John took a bite and waved for you to pick up where you left off.

“Um, I grew up without a lot of money. It was really just me and my dad my whole life and he was a shit cook and I’m a shit cook. He couldn’t afford to take me out to eat beside my birthday and he let me pick wherever I wanted to go. . .” You took a breath before sharing the truly vulnerable part.

“So I never experienced good food until my adult life once I got a job. And a lot of those experiences have been by myself because I didn’t have anyone to go with. Well my dad goes with me sometimes but he still gets the cheapest option because he doesn’t like spending money so it still doesn’t feel good.” You couldn’t get yourself to look at John, it felt more intimate sharing this than when you two rolled around in the sheets.

You were taught being poor was something to be embarrassed about. That you had to put on your best clothes and a brave face and act more well off than you were. And you always did, because you didn’t want to humiliate your father and all his efforts to support you.

“Past relationships didn’t take you out to nice places?” John probed.

“Sometimes, really just for my birthday or anniversaries. . . So it never felt like I out grew that poor city girl I grew up as. If that makes any sense.” You mumbled the last part and picked at your food.

“That makes sense. I grew up similarly so I get it.” Taking your hand John squeezed it reassuringly. Looking into his eyes you saw the same shame that riddled you. It was a moment of clarity that came all from a silent understanding that you weren’t the only one who felt this way or went through something similar.

“Yeah?” You asked. That surprised you. You had John pegged for someone who grew up with money. That’s why he lived in a swanky flat with a balcony and took you to places like this and never let you pay for anything.

“Yeah, just in the country side. I’ve got three other siblings so we grew up with holes in our shoes and knew how to make a little go a long way. I really started to try different foods when I was being shipped out to country after country.” John seemed somewhat guarded when he spoke about his family life but it fizzled off by the time he started to speak of food.

“How many siblings? And same, only I was traveling for work.” You knew John wasn’t an only child like you but he never gave more details.

“Yeah, two older brothers and a younger sister. You have any siblings?“ John seemed genuinely curious in getting to know you a little bit deeper and open enough to share about himself.

“Only child. It’s just me and my dad, don’t really have a big family. There’s my mums brother but we don’t get along.” With a shrug you continued to eat.

“Why’s that?” John lightly chuckled at the sour face you made thinking about your uncle.

“He’s not really on board with the whole women’s rights thing. Last we spoke my dad ended up rocking his shit for saying something colorful about me becoming an archeologist.” What you said made John’s eyebrows shoot up and a smile spread across his face. He wasn’t sure why but it felt good that you had a protective father. It meant he didn’t have to worry about you as much as he involuntarily did.

“Your dad seems protective.” By the way John spoke it was a compliment.

“You have no idea. He moved here to be close to me so I wouldn’t be living in a country I didn’t have any family in.” It made you smile to share about your father since you were so close to him.

“Sounds like a good man. He a foodie like you?” The question kept coming and you were finding it easier and easier to share more about yourself.

“No, but he likes good liquor and nice cigars.” Telling John this got another approving nod from him.

“Good man. What about your mum?” That question made you physically react.

You weren’t an open book so John felt he had to be very specific in the questions he asked you. He noticed you willingly talk about your father so he wondered about your mother. Part of him wondered if she left or there was some falling out. It obviously hurt by the way you immediately frowned and looked away.

“She’s dead. I don’t like talking about it.” The way you spoke was nonchalant which peaked John’s interest but he was smart enough to not push.

“I’m sorry about that.” John wanted to squeeze your hand again but you had already moved them into your lap.

“Nothing to be sorry about. People die, she died, cancer, I was little, I’m fine now, my dad’s never really been the same- I feel like I’m rambling.” You were in fact rambling and John could tell you were not fine about it. So to give you some grace he changed the subject.

“Where’s the best food from the places you’ve traveled?” It was the kindest question he asked because he didn’t push on the subject of your mother any further. Taking a sigh of relief your smile returned and you rolled into the next conversation.

“Korea and Japan, hands down. It’s a different level of cooking there. You?” Taking a bite of your food you watched John eye it and then giggled and motioned for his to have more of yours.

“Turkey, some of the best food I’ve ever had.” John was more focused on taking a bite of your food than the conversation. You scooted your plate closer so you could share and he did the same. Neither of you looked for permission anymore and mindlessly ate.

“You’re amazing to take out to eat. You know that right?” John’s compliment made you beam and you wondered if it was only because you were good about sharing your food.

“Yeah?” You asked coyly.

“You’re quick as a whip, funny, and pick the better food every time I take you out.” John pointed at your plate with his fork and went back to eating his food.

“You know we could start picking dishes together and split them.” You suggested.

“See, you’re bloody brilliant.” With a wink John took a sip of his wine and carried on eating.

John was being so charming you wanted to squeal. He made your heart skip a beat. The smile you wore was so wide you knew it would start to hurt soon enough. There was a thrumming in your veins that echoed John’s. You two were smiling at one another in a cheesy love struck way that only those around could see. Somehow you both were blind to the passion dancing in the other’s eyes.

“You know my dream is to vacation in Bologna and get to have the best authentic Italian food.” Biting you lip John seemed to enjoy your small confession.

“Yeah? What about the wine?” John said this as he filled up your glass and then his own.

“The wines only a bonus. I want to gorge myself on pasta and bread. Gain so much weight I’m unrecognizable.” Your joke had John laughing from deep in his belly.

“Sounds like an absolute dream. I’ll get fat with you.” Toasting to that you both softly laughed.

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to gain weight with how much you work out.” You were flirting but John didn’t take the bait.

Normally he flirted back seamlessly but there was a gentleness to him. Reaching across the table John took your hand and played with your ring finger mindlessly.

“Do you want to come with me to the Liverpool match tonight?” His question came out of nowhere.

“I thought you were going with a friend?” You asked, now sitting on the edge of your seat. You wanted to go more than anything. The chemistry between you two was off the charts and it would be a spectacular day for you if this date didn’t end after the meal.

“Don’t have to. You’ve never seen the reds in person and I’d fancy being the one to take you.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

——————

Tonight was calm and lacked the electricity you felt on your day out with John. It was a casual date. Nothing special, nothing memorable. The wine was decent and the conversation simple. It was meant to be romantic but to you this swanky restaurant wasn’t doing it for you.

“You do anything fun over the weekend?” Adam asked as he poured you a fresh glass of wine.

You were in a daze, mind stuck on John Price instead of your date sitting across from you. When you didn’t answer Adam asked the same question again which got your attention.

“Yeah, went to the Liverpool match with a friend.” You shrugged it off trying to act like it wasn’t the most magical night you’d spent with a man.

“Let me take you to a Chelsea match, they’re the ones you’ve got to support.” It was sweet but it sounded corny for Adam to want you to support his team. It made you wonder why it felt cringy to hear him say it yet when John was excited to have you in red and cheering you were smitten.

“Oh really?” You asked softly and then took a sip of your wine. It made you long for the taste of the sparkling, sweet white you shared with John instead of this flat, boring red.

“I’ve been thinking. We have fun together, good banter, great sex. I’m ready for us to make things official.” Adam smiled at you.

That made your breath hitch. Dread started to fill you. Part of you was hoping that you two would never get to this point. That Adam would break things off or you would find the courage to do it. He was your place holder; all because he was a good match for you. Adam was intelligent, well established in his career, and most importantly, not afraid of commitment. He was the man you should be dating but the spake just wasn’t there for you.

“Really?” It was fake sincerity the dripped off your tongue.

It tasted putrid and left you feeling sick. Being asked to be someone’s girlfriend was suppose to make you excited for the future. But the first thing that came to mind was that you would have to stop seeing John; and no part of you wanted that.

“Yeah, I really like you.” Adam was being so genuine and the way he looked at you spoke volumes.

You felt like a piece of shit.

“I-I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready.” You must have looked like a deer in headlight because before you even spoke Adam demeanor shifted to confusion.

“Seriously?” Confusion and disdain were the first emotions to hit Adam. Then you watched his face twist as if he’d sucked on a lemon.

“I-look, I’m-“ You tried.

“What’s your problem? You went on and on about wanting a relationship and now that’s not what you want? It’s the military prick isn’t it?” Just like at work Adams’s jump to conclusion was spot on. It was kind of annoying how accurate he was. You were also realizing he didn’t take rejection well.

“I don’t have a problem.” That was a lie, something was wrong with you and you needed to figure out what it was.

“No, because I really do like you. And I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’re running away but I’m not sticking around to convince you to date me.” Adam got up abruptly threw a few notes down and left.

You couldn’t really blame him for his frustration, you had that coming. In your quest to find commitment and happiness you had done to someone what John was doing to you. Stringing Adam along wasn’t intentional and you really did have good intentions but it didn’t line up with your feelings.

“Fuck.” You placed your face in your hands and sat there quietly.

You knew people were staring at you after Adam’s dramatic display. The feeling of prying eyes only made your skin hotter and embarrassment sting more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m in love with him.” The realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your life was falling apart all because you were in love with John Price. Who were you kidding? You knew halfway through the Liverpool match you loved him. The second he lifted you into the air and then kissed you when they scored their first goal was what did you in. John had you wear his jersey and even swept you in a convenient store for you to get some red lipstick, claiming it was only right. You left a perfect red lipstick print to his cheek as a joke and he kept it there the entire night.

“Ma’am, could I get you anything else?” You waitress was looking at you like you were some fragile thing.

“Do you have vodka?”

——————

“We making a thing of showing up uninvited?” John joked seeing you standing at his front door.

He was very excited to see you because you caught him half way through a wank. You also looked amazing in your sweater dress and heels meanwhile he was shirtless and in grey sweatpants that hung low.

“You started it.” You mused back and then pointed at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You gave him that seductive smile that riled him up.

“Come in-“ John motioned you in and then started chuckling.

“You smell like you crawled out from a bottle.” He barked out a laugh and grabbed your ass.

You weren’t much of a drinker and John commonly saw you gawking and looking mortified with British drinking culture. So for you to turn up drunk meant something happened and John was praying it was because you broke up with your little boyfriend.

“Might have had a few drinks.” With a shrug you spun around to face John and started to back down his hallway toward the kitchen.

John was now crowding your space and backed you up against the wall just outside his bedroom. With both hands pressed against the wall he caged you in. Lowering his head slight he tilted it and gave you a wicked grin. Taking his finger John hooked it in your tank top and pulled so he could see down your top.

“Be my date to that work event?” You asked softly, waiting for rejection.

“Your little boyfriend doesn’t want to go?” John was getting that smug smirk again. The one where he was feeling like he won, as if you were some prize to be had.

“He was never my boyfriend. I broke things off with him.” You shrugged then left a kiss to the corner of John’s mouth. You hoped that kiss would get the conversation to end but it didn’t.

“Why’s that?” Pulling back John was teasing and you weren’t feeling up for it.

“You said you’re only seeing me. Keep it that way and I’ll only see you.” Staring into his icy eyes you silently pleaded that he hadn’t gone back on what he had told you.

“Alright. I can do that.” John nodded happily.

“Do you actually like me, John. Or am I just a warm body to keep you from feeling lonely.” It took the alcohol for you to finally ask this question that had been weighing on you since this all began.

“I actually like you.” John hardened in a split second at your question. His face became unreadable and posture stiff. You weren’t sure he meant what he said.

“Then, why aren’t I enough?” Your voice cracked as you spoke. Taking a deep breath you felt yourself about to cry.

John’s eyes went wide and he had no idea what to say to you. Emotional conversations weren’t really his thing and he had never seen you upset before. Ducking under his arm you quickly exited his flat and headed straight for the elevator.

“Wait.” John called from his door.

“I’ll see you at the party.” You called over your shoulder not trusting yourself to look back. You couldn’t let John see you cry, it would scare him off.

——————

The crisp night air turned John’s cheeks rosy as he waited for you outside your building. He almost brought flowers but realized you would have to run back up to your flat to put them in water. So he opted to have a mini bottle of wine for you in his car.

“Woah.” John’s eyes were as wide as saucers seeing you walk down your buildings steps.

When he first saw you in that midnight blue dress John didn’t think you could look any more beautiful. But here you were, with your hair tied back in an elegant loose bun that was braided on either side. You were a stark contrast of beauty against the backdrop of your old rundown apartment building.

The pale light of the moonlight made your skin glow almost like you were radiant. John’s breath hitched in his throat and his heartbeat began to pick up pace. You looked beautiful, divine, breathtaking. There was no doubt in John’s mind you were the most captivating woman he had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Look at you.” You then whistled seeing John stand there in a navy suit.

You knew John was handsome but this was your first time seeing him in a suit. It fit him perfectly and he paired it with a rust colored tie, matching pocket square, brown shoes, a gold watch and cufflinks. Part of you wondered if he was this stylish on his own or if someone helped him pick this out. Someone had to have helped him because the ensemble had a woman’s touch to it.

“Your sister pick that out for you?” You joked and motioned to his impeccable suit. Straightening his tie your smile never faded and you felt smitten having the man you had fallen in love with as your date tonight.

The answer to your question was, yes. John showed up at his younger sister’s house and practically forced her out the door to help him pick out a suit since he didn’t have a nice one. It cost him more money than he liked, a pricey lunch, and an onslaught of invasive questions; but it was all worth it to impress you.

“You’re beautiful.” John barely got the words out before he was kissing you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting him to plant one on you. Your eyes fluttered shut when you realized he wasn’t going to pull away. Kissing John back you felt one large hand on the small of your back pulling you close while the other cupped the back of your neck. The way his lips moved against yours was slow and tender, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted. The normal heat and desire was absent. You felt wanted, cherished, like you were his world in this tender moment.

Pulling away slowly John stared deeply in your eyes. It was emotion you saw, one of adoration that you’d seen when an artists gazed at the sistine chapel for the first time. You felt more than beautiful, like you were a work of art to behold and John was the one to see the beauty of you in every stroke, every line, for all you were.

“Divine, doesn’t begin to describe how breath taking you are.” John whispered before bringing you close to his chest and hugging you.

Nothing compared to the feeling of being held by John Price. Melting in to his hold you breathed in his scent of oaky cologne and spearmint. John always smelled good, even when he didn’t. There was this natural manly scent about him that made your knees weak. You hummed and mumbled about him smelling good and he reciprocated the compliment.

“Yeah, I look that good?” Blood rushed to your face and you felt the flush of insecurity light up your skin.

This wasn’t a normal compliment where John was trying to get you in bed. You could see in the way he looked at you and his tone that this was different. The goal wasn’t sex. It was - you had no idea what this was; and that’s what made you so insecure.

“The way you look is just a bonus.” John’s words made your hair stand on end.

John wasn’t just talking about your appearance, he meant you as a person was what got this reaction from him. It made your heart swell to hear him use your own words you said in passing once on what you found attractive. That looks were always a bonus to you and to know John felt that way about you could make you melt into the earth.

“Really trying to get lucky tonight.” You tried humor to keep your racing heart from leaping out of your throat.

Maybe having him tell you, you were hot or sexy would quell the butterflies in your stomach. Because being desired by John physically was what you had become accustom to. Anything else was new and foreign and solidified you had fallen in love with him.

“Lucky to be your date tonight. That’s all I want.” Laying a soft kiss to your cheek John whispered in your ear.

It was confusing to hear that but you weren’t going to dwell on it. You wanted to enjoy John’s company tonight. Shooing all the insecurities creeping into your mind away you took John’s hand and nodded at him as if he knew what you were thinking. With compliment after compliment rolling from his tongue John took you to your work event.

There was electricity in the air walking in to the posh hotel bar that was rented out for your work event. There was something exhilarating about being on John’s arm and feeling like a couple although you weren’t. It was a taste of what life could be and you found it addictive.

John was amazing, made small talk with your colleagues, even had your boss Sampson in stitches. Sampson and John remembered one another from the dig you met John on and your boss admitted he had a feeling something was going on.

During the conversation John was having with your boss, Adam approached you and asked to have a word. It felt rude to say no so you walked off with him and pretended everything was fine. No one knew about you and Adam seeing each other as you were both private people. John continued to chat with some of your colleagues but was watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Turn me down and bring that prick? You’re fucking joking?” Adam didn’t snap but sounded hurt and confused.

When he asked you the other night if it was the military guy that was holding you back he said it to be cruel. No part of him actually thought that was what was going on. Adam actually thought you stopped seeing him a while ago when you told him not to worry about John, so he felt hurt and betrayed that John was still in your life.

“Adam, I’m sorry. But don’t you want someone who wants you?” You asked and then cringed at how horrible you sounded.

“I didn’t mean that, that came out wrong-“ You tried to add quickly but you watched Adam flare up like a firecracker.

“That’s rich coming from you. You really think that asshole wants you? You’re nothing but something to kill time with until he’s ready to move on to the next. And you really want to waist your time with him than be with me? It’s fucking ludicrous, Indy.” Adam wasn’t yelling or causing a scene and close enough to keep things quiet. The look on his face spoke volumes to those around because Adam wasn’t one for anger and he looked pissed off with you.

Glancing around you continued to smile like nothing was happening. It was taking a moment for your brain to catch up with your mouth. Because what Adam said was what you had been thinking for months now. That John didn’t actually want you and he was killing time. You were his makeshift girlfriend that he never had to commit to and could turn tail and run when it best suited him.

“Oi, don’t know what’s going on but get out of her face.” John was by your side now and took Adam by the shoulder and moved him back a step.

It could be misconstrued as playful to those around but you and Adam both knew it wasn’t. Intimidation was something John excelled at and you watched Adam square his shoulder clearly not willing to back down. You had a friend say there was no better feeling than two men fighting over her but you couldn’t disagree more with that sentiment. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you, this was so mortifying.

“I have half a mind to-“

“To what? We can step outside if that’s where this is going.” The timber is John’s voice was like coarse black smoke.

You were against physical violence and knew Adam found it as barbaric as you did. Looking up at John you were about to tell him to stop but Adam spoke first.

“Of course she fancies you, she spends her days studying knuckle dragging Neanderthal’s just like you.” Adam spat the words out.

That seemed to shut John up. John wasn’t insecure about his intelligence normally, but being around people as smart as you and your colleagues did leave him feeling out of his depths. Adam wished you a job well done on your latest find, referring to John, called him a Neanderthal one more time and headed toward the bar. You had to step on John’s foot and tug him by the arm before he dragged Adam out by his hair. You realized John wasn’t a fan of being called unintelligent and would only prove that point by trying to fight Adam. John stopped immediately at your touch and looked to you with an expression you had never seen before.

“You okay?” Somehow he was fuming mad but still had the wherewithal to check on you.

“Yeah, he’s upset and I don’t blame him. I’ve been really shitty.” After you spoke you quickly went after Adam and grabbed him lightly.

You left John there, feeling like a fool. He wanted to grab you and ask what that prick meant to you and why you would chase after him. Somehow this felt like betrayal to John and in a split second he swallowed down that feeling realizing it was self inflicted. John knew deep down you would devote yourself to him fully if he allowed, that this pain in his chest was his own fault.

“What?” Adam turned at your familiar touch of his bicep and was not amused with you chasing after him.

“You’re right. You deserved better and it was shitty of me to lead you on when I didn’t know what I wanted. I should’ve sorted my self out instead of dragging you along with me. I’m sorry.” You said earnestly, trying to keep yourself from breaking down in a fit of tears. You felt disgusted with yourself for doing what John was doing to you. Adam didn’t deserve that and you had selfishly hurt him the way you were hurting. You were better than this, too emotionally aware to not see the damage you had done.

Adam blinked at you. There seemed to be a shift, not one of forgiveness but mutual understanding. With the softest of smiles he nodded to you and then squeezed your shoulder.

“Thanks. I meant what I said. Indy, I care for you and as one friend to another, he’s only going to hurt you.” It was starting to become apparent to you that the men in your life that you had romantic relationships with looked at you with pity.

It was leaving a sour taste in your mouth and you hated that this was your reality. Life shouldn’t be leaving you feeling so dirty. Your love life shouldn’t be the shit show that you allowed it to become. It was you, you were the common denominator; the problem.

“I know. . . I know.” In almost a whisper you admitted what had been weighing on your heart for so long to a man that deserved so much better than you.

“Enjoy yourself, okay. We can still be friends. And. . . You look beautiful by the way.” Even in a moment you had treated him so poorly, Adam had the decency to treat you with kindness. Part of you knew he was still hoping for a chance with you.

“Thanks. . . Friends.” You smiled meekly and watched Adam walk off. Standing there you let yourself feel the disappointment that had morphed into acceptance. You had done the right thing, apologized and taken accountability for your poor behavior. And that’s that most you could do in the aftermath of your selfishness.

“What was that about?” John was now by your side and looking smug to hide his annoyance. To him even without throwing a punch he won, because you were standing by him not Adam.

You were starting to hate when he looked at other men that way. There was nothing for him to be smug about. You weren’t his girlfriend, he’d won nothing. Just like him, all you got was some mind blowing sex and a good time when it was convenient. If he asked you what you were thinking in this moment you would tell him you were both losers who were shit at relationships and should swear off dating until you got your shit together.

“I strung him along. I owed him an apology for that.” It was a pointed comment meant to needle at John.

“Did you?” John scoffed.

“Yeah, I did.” You said coldly.

——————

“Morning.” John stood in his living room doorway shirtless and in grey sweatpants that hung low enough you could see he hadn’t put on boxers. He wore that sleepy smile you would dream about on lonely nights.

It was a cloudy dreary day that left the bright sun to cast a grey shadow. The room was lighter but in a depressingly gloomy kind of way. The grey British morning made John’s flat look even more depressing since the walls were white and the furniture black and brown. There was no real pop of color that always left his flat looking like a hotel rather than a home.

“John?” You asked. You were sitting on his couch, fully clothed and looking distressed.

After your work event you and John came back to his place. You seemed off to him and a lot colder than normal. He didn’t know if he should ask if you were okay and by the time he had built up the courage to you were climbing him like a tree the second you walked into his flat. There was a desperation in the way you two fucked. You clung to him, held on tighter than ever, kissed him deeper than normal, and were more into it than John was accustom to, almost like you felt him slipping through your fingers.

“You not sleep well?” John asked while tilting his head at your curiously.

“I can’t keep doing this. I need you to step up or let me go. I’m putting my life on hold for you and, and, and I just, I just need to know if you feel what I’m feeling when we’re together.” The truth came bursting out of you and once you said it you realized the admission wasn’t making this weight on your chest go away; somehow it became worse.

You were hopeful John would tell you he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. That he had been a fool to keep you strung along this long and that he was sorry to do that to you. Then he would wrap you in his arms and ask you to be his.

But that didn’t happen. In fact, pity formed on John’s face and his gorgeous blue eyes that you’d fallen in love with showed you he was sorry for you. You bit the inside of your cheek feeling in your bones what was to come next. This was the part where he sweet talked you and convinced you to lower your standards and accept the bare minimum from him.

“Darling-“ There was that charming smile as bright as the sun, that won you over so easily, but for once it angered you to see John like that.

“No, no, please don’t do that thing where you’re all charming and hook me back on and I give you even more of my time. Either say you want me to be your girlfriend or let me go.” The intention was to be assertive but all you could hear in your voice was a pathetic, desperate girl begging a man to love her.

And that broke your heart in and of itself. You never saw yourself as desperate or needing a man, especially needing one enough to help you love yourself. Independence was your armor and you weren’t sure where you went wrong or when you started to lean on John for love and affection; if you could even call what he gave you that. No relationship, even the years long ones left you feeling as worthless and broken down as this casual fling with John had.

It was as if you could see the rest of your life in his blue eyes. You knew in your very core he could make you so very happy and you could do the same for him. But he just wouldn’t let you. It all hurt so much and you felt shame for being needy but you knew what you would be losing. You loved John, you fell in love with him at the Liverpool match he took you too and you wanted to cling on to that version of him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not going to work between us if you want more than what we have going.” There was a callousness that John spoke with.

The ultimatum seemed to make him harden. All the emotion he had for you the previous night was gone. That soft look in his eyes when he saw you walk down the steps of your building turned cold. It felt like he stopped seeing you as someone he was fond of and only saw a stranger. Like he would look right through you if you passed one another on the street.

“Okay. Okay-“

“You don’t have to go.” There was a hint of emotion in John’s voice, an ounce of pleading not to leave him alone yet it was wrapped up in disdain. You wondered if he felt even a fraction of the hurt you were or maybe he did feel what you were feeling; only he was much better at masking it.

“John, I can’t. I can’t keep living my life like this- it means I’m getting it wrong. That I’m doing, this whole living my life thing all wrong- and I’m to proud live like this. Off scraps from a man who could give me so much more.” Pain was riddled in the words you spoke and for once it felt like you were breaking your own heart.

Admitting this to the man you wanted more than anything felt gross, like a new level of intimacy he didn’t deserve and you weren’t ready to share. John only stared at you, brows furrowed and lips pressed firmly in a line. There was something in his blue eyes you couldn’t decipher and you had no desire to; not anymore.

“Let me grab my things and please just- let me leave quietly.” Somehow you kept your voice even and calm although it felt like your heart had just been ripped out.

John did as you said. He sat in his living room listening to you shuffle around his room packing a bag of your things. When he heard you move to the bathroom to grab your toiletries he really knew it was over. There would be no talking his way out of this or winning you back unless he gave in to your demands. It wasn’t fully sinking in to John what life meant without you around. He was convincing himself he would be alright and bounce back quickly; although that was far from the reality.

Stopping at the front door you looked around John’s flat trying to memorize it because this was the last time you would see it. You and John shared a look and you weren’t sure why but you felt angry. It felt better to be angry than as hurt as you were. There was no sadness but a resentment that bubbled up and hot tears began to fill your eyes. Stepping out of John’s flat for the last time you slammed the door behind you and finally let the tears flow.

It was humiliating to cry your eyes out on the bus on your way home. Passerby’s looked at you with that same pity you saw in John’s blue eyes and you promised yourself to never settle for a man who left you feeling so pathetic. Because you deserved better and you promised yourself you would never settle for a man who couldn’t commit to you, ever again.

You showered when you got home to get the smell of John off your skin and then went for a run. This was the heartbreak you needed - that’s what you told yourself. Now it was time for you to get your life back on track and it started today. While you deep cleaned your apartment, got ahead on work, and went grocery shopping to stock your home with healthy food, John fell apart. You didn’t know it but he spent that day drinking himself sick and smoking way too much on his balcony. As you threw all his stuff in a bag and washed your sheets, John slept with the pillow you once used hugged to his chest, missing the silk fabric that once covered it. John clung to the smell you left behind while you ridded yourself of him. Neither of you truly being able to out run the heartache left behind, no matter how hard you tried or how much time passed.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarrickss @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie @aliceinwonderland-5678 @blue096 @rip-cod-brainrot @saturnghost93 @somehopeatlast @thepowers-kat-be @tenko-nii @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @thraxpatty @mnsnp @faeriedust17 @livstablers @luvr4miya @phoenixhalliwell @maissalov3u @ellerdod @tizzywoowoo @himboelover @yehsehneeah @r0vena @orangeblossom-24

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love44lew · 10 months ago

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what turns them on/off

彡drivers lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, sebastian vettel, jenson button

彡genre hcs/scenarios

彡summary what gets their wheels spinning and what makes ‘em dnf ★

彡notes i apologize for the wait my loves i didn’t want any of these to feel rushed </3 thank you for 100 followers ❤️❤️

彡warnings sexual content

————-꧁🪼🦈🐋🐬🦭꧂-————

lewis

pleasuring you lewis loves to satisfy the people he loves. getting them gifts, compliments, paying the bill for any meal, you name it. as long as his special ones are happy, hes happy. so in bed you can expect those same things to apply. he gets pleasure from pleasuring you, he loves it. he enjoys seeing you trembling, blushing and fucked out more than his own pleasure. thats why his favorite thing to do is eat you out. and by life itself, this man can EAT!! its almost like your pussy put a spell on him he gets so lost in the sauce. you physically have to push him off to make him stop and by that time your legs are already shaking. he really touches the ocean floor if you know what i mean!! and the d is fire!! and it will put you to sleep. lewis loves being your personal melatonin.

meaningless sex when lewis was single and needed some pleasure every once in a while, he would just go on raya or hit up one of the six trillion girls who wanted him. he wasn’t satisfied with living that way. lewis is a lover not a player. he’s been through a lot of stuff to make him this way and he learned this the hard way through his late twenties and early thirties. born to be a lover, forced to be a hoe !! fortunately though, he met you and looking back on it, he’s realized how much he hated the shallowness of it all. lewis craves for deep meaningful connections and just having sex with random women didn’t fill that hole in his heart. he had to relearn the true meaning of sex and how magical and special such an experience can be. you helped him rediscover this important aspect of his life and it feels great. being with you has definitely taught him quality over quantity.

max

loss of senses max needs to see you, so darkness is a no no. plus, more unnecessary risk of hurting yourselves. he loves the sound of your voice, weather its your moaning and whining as he works your body in every way you enjoy or its just you rambling about your day while running your soft fingers through his thin silky hair. max needs the stimulation of sight and sound to get himself going. “let me hear you” he’ll whisper into your ear

this may be why he loves his mirrors !! the only solution to this issue is to just fuck u in front of a mirror. most men love to do that for their own pleasure but the only thing max is looking at while fucking you in front of a mirror is the way your face twitches, contorts, and relaxes with every thrust. the way your doe eyes roll back and cross, further showing to him how good he fucks you. he picks you up by your neck forcing you to straighten your back as he whispers sweet praise into your ear. “you look so pretty like this baby” “you want me to keep doing that gorgeous?” “uhuh im fucking you good baby” your legs twitch every time his sweet voice sings into your ear telling you everything you need to hear.

charles

charles loves to see you in lace, latex, and silk. the way the latex hugs your figure so beautifully makes you almost look naked. weather its black, beige, white, or print he loves when you look all sexy just for him. silk is almost like maternal for him. as much as he loves to see your curves he also loves the look of ‘sheets after sex’ the open back with the jewelry and the flowy trim, he loves it. it simply just makes him want to imagine you bloated with your shared creation but still keeping your elegance and beauty along with it. the look of silk makes your skin glow like the sun and you simply look like a greek goddess in his eyes. the beautiful custom embroidery that revolves around your every curve when you wear lace is unmatched. he loves that it shows just enough that he can imagine what hes already seen but also covers enough that others cant. the sexy elegant vibe of lace changes your aura enough to make him want to eat you out through your thin panties. your beautiful skin covered by a thin soft custom embroidery made just for him makes his mind go wild.

waiting charles is very impatient when it comes to his pleasure. weather its the pleasure of winning or reaching tip of his climax so good that he’ll just want to fall asleep after, he’ll work hard to make sure he gets there, for you too. sure, he can do foreplay but only for a certain amount of time until he begins to bore. ‘lets get to the good stuff already’ ((sass)) charles is a gentleman, so he will make sure you finish before him. plus, he has amazing stamina, so don’t feel rushed to reach your climax, he can wait for that. sometimes he’ll slow down just to watch you overstimulate for a little bit longer, just until you start fussing before going rough and slow, just how u like it. “whats wrong mon cœr? don’t you like it slow?” “ahh you want it harder.. yeah, just like that.”

sebastian

cuddling (smirk) the bed creaks as seb adjusts himself to face your back swinging an arm over your waist and the other snaked around your neck. “good morning, der liebling” he greeted in his raspy low morning tone, planting soft kisses on your cheek and shoulder. you turned your head to catch his lips. “good morning sunshine” you teased his nickname. he rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging his lips. he kissed your nose before diving back onto your lips, his hand now squeezing and caressing your waist and hip. you scooted back, carefully grinding your rear on his front. his hand stuck on your hip while his other now holding your neck. you continued grinding your ass back on him. little moans and purrs escaping between kisses.

full attention its important that you fully engage with seb while having relations. if you seem at all uninterested in what you’re doing he simply wont have the means to do anything anymore. its important to always make sure you’re not holding back when it comes to him. he loves when your hands are anywhere they can find groping or caressing his skin as hes burried deep in your core. he needs to feel extra wanted every time. “touch me” he whispers into your ear as he slowly inserts himself. the extra sensory makes him go wild as he resists cumming after just a couple strokes. your nails lightly scratching circles into his scalp as he’s pressing your knees into the cushion below. even when hes fucking you from behind you always reach a hand over to run down his chest and abs and make eye contact as you match his thrust rhythm.

(i might add jenson in the future but im trying to get this out for you guys asap!!)

—-

dm for tags!! plz request more ideas ❤️

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allfearstofallto · 3 months ago

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Writing for my OC, cause he's the only thing that cures my writes block!!

Yandere! Butler x Fem! Reader

There's nothing Yuri loves more than picking out your outfits for the day. Well, that's a lie. He loves your smile and your laugh and he loves the face you make when you're reading a particularly interesting part of a book. But picking your outfits is also a treat for him. The way you twirl in the dresses and long skirts to show him just how cute you are is like a touch of heaven on this mortal earth. He loves picking jewelry that compliments your skin, or scents that match the color of your dress for the day. Yet, today is the only day of his life, where he's displeased as he rummages through your closet.

A letter from the crown Prince himself? Yuri scoffed at the sight. He intended to throw it into the flames of the fireplace, as he'd done with almost all your other marriage requests, but you got to it first. Your eyes widened at the sight of the imperial stamp, your fingers gripping the letter so tightly it nearly crumbled.

“Yuri! Can you believe it?” You spoke excitedly, shaking him the letter, “The crown Prince has requested to see me! Me personally!”

It took a lot out of him to not roll his eyes, that familiar pit was forming in his stomach. The crown Prince? He was a man he knew all too well. When Yuri served, he was even tasked with protecting his carriage while the prince was traveling across cities. He was a pompous ass. That's all Yuri could remember about him. Spoiled rotten and disgustingly annoying, he wasn't suitable for you.

“What an achievement,” he strained himself to say, but bile was rising in his throat as he spoke. He swallowed it down, clenching his fist to not say what he really wanted to. Not when you would ask how he knew the crown Prince. He’d rather his secrets stay that way, especially from you who he adores so much. But the joy in your eyes was hurting him.

“Are you picking gold?” You questioned while peaking over Yuri's shoulders, in his hands a yellow dress with golden embroidery. A color you seldom wore, but one that Yuri adored against your skin. Mentally he was cursing himself, even though he wanted the crown prince to want absolutely nothing to do with you, he could deny himself the ability of making you beautiful. A treat for his own eyes, even though he wished to gouge out the eyes of others who dared look.

“A lovely gown,” he said, holding the dress up to you, letting the fabric drape over your shoulders so that you may see how it fares against your body in the mirror, “You rarely have the chance to wear it.” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, it pained him to doll you up, to make you beautiful for another man.

“What if it's a marriage proposal?” You gleamed. Had you've been looking at Yuri, you would've seen his blue eyes darken, seen him clench his hands into a fist like he was preparing to attack an imaginary assailant.

“Nonsense,” he replied with a click of his tongue and a causal shake of his head. Yuri knew the crown prince well, knew that he was weak, and spoiled. And knew that anything, he feared the man who was delicately applying a hint of blush to your cheeks.

Yuri has scared him once, back when he was still a knight. But that was a sorry for another day. A story from before you'd claimed his heart. And a story you would never know, if all went well. If the crown prince, that disgustingly pampered brat ever asked for your hand, he'd see Yuri again. With the same smile, the same bright blue eyes, and the same hand that'd held a sword to his throat, all those years ago.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere character #male yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #jealous yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere x you #yancore #yandere aesthetic

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twstfanblog · 6 months ago

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Hello I have a request, if you aren't doing requests please ignore this! But anyways the request is that may I have the TWST characters (especially the housewardens) and how would they react see their s/o in like traditional clothing from their world (example: Chinese traditional clothing is like qipao) Thank you so much! Have a fabulous day 💝

Qipao (Traditional & Modern) Reactions

Housewardens x Reader

Riddle

Traditional

Thinks the dress is beautiful. Even though it's loose, it still carries an air of professionalism. A perfect garment for his lovely rose. Really likes the modest nature of them.

Asks you lots of questions on the history of the garment if you know it. Ask if he could wear one as well. Just so many questions, he's pulled out a notebook to take notes.

Matching rose patterned qipao/tang suit for walks in the garden together!

Modern

WHY IS THE SLIT SO HIGH!?

Still thinks it's a very pretty dress, but he can not stop looking at the thigh slit. It compels him. Good lord, you're not even wearing tights!

Struggling to remain polite, but the dress is form fitting and you have a very lovely ass- excuse him, he needs to...be...out of the public eye.

Leona

Traditional

Jokingly calls it your fancy potato sack. Apologizes if you get actually mad at him calling it that.

Lowkey, he really likes it and does enjoy that it's still comfortable enough for you to nap with him. Half serious asks if they're pajamas.

Will start wearing Dashikis when you wear your qipao. Cultural matching ❤️

Modern

AYO-

Goes dead silent, his eyes are watching your every move. The dress is tight, the slit is mid thigh. You look good and he's pissed you're not in grabbing distance.

Tells you you can't wear that qipao outside of his room. Not even Ramshackle. Now walk closer, he's gonna...grab ya.

Azul

Traditional

Fascinated and asking questions. Both about the cultural history and the manufacturing side.

Thinks it's a very lovely dress with high marketing potential; simple yet perfect for all class levels due to the fabric and embroidery you can make with it.

Lowkey wants to gift you some more because he just likes them so much and he thinks you look elegant in them (Be his spouse please).

Modern

Honestly, it took him a hot minute to really notice. Since modern qipaos are made to be so fancy, he first started picking it apart to discern value like he does all new things.

Really noticed the silhouette and how revealing it was once he looked at the chest area and saw how tight it was.

Compliments the dress but then says he has important business to do. No, he will NOT stand up-

Kalim

Traditional

OH! You look so pretty! You always look pretty, but the qipao just makes you look EXTRA pretty like every other thing you wear.

He's breaking down the outfit by the quality of fabric alone. He pouts it's not 100% some super rare silk that only grows in 4 parts of the world in Spring during the rain on a full moon.

Whining at you and Jamil to let him make so many qipaos. He will have a literal factory up and running by mid day just to make you more of these gorgeous slips so that you're always cozy.

Modern

Nearly ruins it doing a spit take at seeing you. The boy is too stunned to speak, mouth open and getting coconut juice all over his front.

Once he snaps out of it he's all smiles again and asking you to show it off. Do a spin! The fabic is so pretty when you twirl, can you dance in it!? Come dance with him!

Lowkey just way too excited about you being in them. Fills him with some kind of energy where he just wants to hold you and spin around with you. Keeps fighting himself to not get down on one knee.

Vil

Traditional

'Oh?'

Interested in them but has his complaints (as always). He doesn't like how they hang shapeless, but the positives manage to outweigh the negatives in its function and appearance. Over all thinks its a cute house dress design and that you look nice in them.

Ends up commissioning some silk qipaos to have as lounge wear. Being comfortable, yet ready to host is an amazing new option he's gained.

Modern

'OH!?'

More complaints but it's because the dress is so sexy. It's too tight, the slit shows too much thigh, the boob window is unnecessary. He won't stop complaining but lowkey is so FLUSTERED.

He keeps tugging and picking at the outfit like he isn't pulling you into his lap to mutter into your neck all his frustrations on having such an attractive partner.

Idia

Traditional

Almost didn't really notice because he was showing you something in his game. Once he does notice he remarks on how nice you look.

Honestly, doesn't say much about it but will take notice if you wear them a lot when you go see him. He'll ask about them, asks if you really like them. He can and will buy you a bunch of them in various colors and patterns.

He does get you matching ones of your mains in the current MMO he's dragged you into. Lazy cosplaying for the win.

Modern

He took one look and froze, only unfroze because he started dying in game.

How could you do this? Why have you come into his room looking SEXY and forced him to look at you? What do you think hes gonna do???? Rip your clothes off and throw you on the bed????

He keeps peeking at you then turning away with his hair giving away just how flustered he is. Still manages to stutter out how nice you look.

Malleus

Traditional

Oh look at this. His lovely child of man is in new clothing. Please give him the entire history on the garment.

Lowkey, I think he'd really like them. It's very simple but with the potential of being super fancy just with easy fabric choices and embroidery.

Compliments you all the time when he sees you wearing one. Asks if only certain people can wear them. Do you think he'd look good in one? Just really likes them.

Modern

"...So, would you like a Summer wedding?"

This a dangerous game. He loves you so much already, but now you show him how attractive you are in tight clothing that shows off your skin? He will marry you, he will marry you so fast.

Lowkey rips it on accident, and apologies for hours. God forbid if you got one with a dragon winding around you. He honeslty got a little territorial and that's why his claws got caught on the stitching...

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #requests

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luvly-writer · 2 months ago

Text

Aretia: A Cultured Duchess

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Aretia Village Market – Late Morning

The small market just beyond the Riorson Estate buzzed with life—vendors calling out prices, colorful awnings fluttering in the wind, and the scent of grilled spices drifting from the food carts. Y/n strolled between the stalls, the breeze tugging at her curls, her smile easy and radiant.

It didn’t take long.

“Oh, gods above, look at her!” cried one of the elderly women selling embroidered shawls. “What a vision!”

“She’s so pretty,” another gasped, clasping her wrinkled hands like she was witnessing a blessing descend from the skies. “No wonder he’s so broody—had to keep her secret from the rest of us or we’d have stolen her!”

Y/n laughed, warm and sincere. “You’re all far too kind,” she said, cheeks flushing.

One of them—Mirey, the oldest—held up a bolt of deep red Tyrrish silk. “Come here, sweet girl. This color? It’s you. Let me tie it in your hair, just a little knot, like we used to in the old days. The Heir's Consort deserves it.”

Y/n blinked. “Oh—I’m not—”

“Yet,” another woman chimed in with a knowing smile. “We know that boy. Stubborn, but once he loves, it’s for life.”

They giggled and fussed, tying the silk delicately in her hair, offering little honeyed sweets wrapped in leaves, and pressing tiny bowls of spiced rice and pickled vegetables into her hands to “try, just try, darling.”

She was glowing by the time she made it back up to the estate.

Riorson Estate, War Room – Midday

Xaden stood at the edge of the table, arms crossed, listening intently as Brennan laid out troop supply routes on a large map. His focus was razor-sharp—until the door opened behind him.

He glanced up casually.

And his breath caught.

Y/n stepped in, wrapped in affection and color—golden silk glinting in her hair, laughter in her eyes, and the faintest shimmer of powdered sugar on her cheek. Behind her, two castle maids were whispering and giggling like they were watching a fairy tale unfold in real time.

Brennan followed his gaze and smirked. “You’re useless to me now,” he muttered under his breath.

Xaden didn’t even argue.

His eyes softened as she crossed the room, barely able to contain the smirk tugging at his mouth.

“What happened to you?” he asked, voice low and rough as he reached to brush a smudge of honey from the corner of her lips.

“The market,” she said sweetly. “Your people are very persuasive. I’ve had six kinds of food, three silk recommendations, and about twenty compliments on how handsome my broody Tyrrish heir is.”

He raised a brow. “Heir, huh?”

She shrugged, smirking. “Their words. I didn’t correct them.”

“Good,” he said, pulling her closer, his voice dropping to something only she could hear. “I wouldn’t want to remind them that I haven’t made it official yet. They might beat me to it and start planning a wedding without us.”

She laughed, resting a hand on his chest. “I think they already have.”

Behind them, Brennan sighed and rolled up the map. “I’m taking my rebellion and leaving. You two are gross.”

The maids giggled. Xaden kissed Y/n’s forehead, silk brushing his cheek, and didn’t let her go for the rest of the afternoon.

Aretia Village Market – Midafternoon

Y/n tugged gently on Xaden’s hand, lacing her fingers with his as she led him past the main gate, down the winding hill path that opened into the vibrant village square.

It was busy again—children weaving between carts, elders seated under bright canopies, the air fragrant with grilled meats and sweet dates. But this time, it was Xaden who was being fussed over.

“Well, well, look who came down from the mountain!” Mirey called out from her embroidery stand. “The Riorson boy himself!”

Xaden chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rare, as another elder grinned wide.

“Y/n, how did you manage this? The last time we saw him smile like this he was six and got two pastries instead of one.”

“He’s not as scary as he looks,” Y/n replied with a grin, squeezing his hand.

“Speak for yourself,” Xaden murmured to her, lips brushing her temple as he leaned in. “I am scary. Just... selectively.”

That got him a laugh, and even a playful swat from one of the women.

As they moved from stall to stall, the people eased around Xaden with a mix of respect and affection—offering updates, thanking him quietly for protection, inviting him to try spiced cider or fresh breads. And Y/n watched him, eyes soft. His usual edge dulled just enough for his warmth to bleed through. He wasn’t just a soldier or a rebellion leader here. He was home.

They passed by a stall of handwoven garments, and the vendor—a spry woman with salt-and-pepper braids—held up a cream and gold Tyrrish blouse with intricate embroidery at the neckline. She smiled at Y/n.

“This would look gorgeous on you, darling. That skin of yours? That smile? You’d be the sun in our whole damn valley.”

Y/n smiled kindly, hand brushing the fabric. “It’s beautiful, truly. But I don’t think I’d wear it. I’m usually in black rider leathers or... well, black rider leathers.”

The vendor smiled knowingly but didn’t push. Y/n stepped away.

Xaden didn’t.

He looked at the blouse. Then at Y/n, who was trying not to glance back. He knew she liked pretty things. His mouth quirked. He turned to the vendor and handed her a few coins without a word.

When Y/n looked back, he was already folding the blouse gently under his arm.

“Xaden—”

“You like it.”

“I said I wouldn’t—”

“You like it,” he repeated, and that crooked smirk was entirely too pleased with himself. “And just because you usually wear black leathers doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate you in this. Or out of it.”

“Xaden,” she hissed under her breath, cheeks flushing.

The vendor cackled. “Good gods, if your father and aunt could see you.”

Xaden just winked at her. “They'd be laughing too hard.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but her smile was uncontainable. When they walked back up toward the estate, the blouse tucked under her arm, she reached out to lace their fingers again—and this time, Xaden was the one pulling her close.

Later That Night – Riorson Estate, Xaden’s Room

The manor had quieted. The halls, once bustling with meetings and the distant echo of sparring, now lay wrapped in silence, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace in Xaden’s room.

He had gone to the bathing room to wash off the dust of the day, leaving Y/n curled up on his bed, supposedly reading. But the moment the door shut behind him, her eyes flicked to the carefully folded blouse he’d placed on the edge of his dresser.

The cream fabric shimmered gently in the firelight, the gold thread almost glowing. Her fingers brushed it once. Twice. Then she stood.

It slipped over her head like it had been made for her—light, soft, adorned with delicate swirls and traditional Tyrrish motifs at the collar and cuffs. She glanced at herself in the mirror, turning a little.

Her lips quirked. Maybe he had a point.

The door creaked open.

She turned around just in time to see Xaden walk in, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Time froze.

His eyes dragged over her—slow, reverent, darkening with something molten. The blouse fell to mid-thigh, brushing against her bare skin, and she swore she saw his chest rise, then fall, like he’d been punched with the sight of her.

“…Well?” she said, feigning innocence, hands smoothing the hem.

He blinked. Once. Then again.

“That is,” he said slowly, “not what I expected to walk into.”

“You bought it for me.”

“I did. And now I’m wondering if that was a mistake, because if this is how you look in it…” He trailed off, jaw clenched slightly. “I might never let you wear anything else again.”

She laughed, stepping forward, the blouse swaying with her hips.

“You like it?”

He didn’t answer with words. Just crossed the room in three strides and pulled her flush against him, his hands warm and steady on her hips. His lips brushed her jaw, then her neck.

“I adore it,” he whispered. “But not as much as I adore you.”

She smiled against his mouth as he kissed her, slow and soft, one hand drifting up to tangle in her hair.

“You’re so gone for me,” she teased.

“Utterly,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “And you in this blouse? Y/n… I’m doomed.”

A few days later – Riorson Estate Grounds

“Where the hell is she?” Ridoc muttered, scanning the tree line past the market trail for what felt like the fifth time. “She was supposed to be at sparring two hours ago.”

“She didn’t check in with Garrick either,” Rhiannon added, brows furrowed. “Xaden?”

He was already stalking through the courtyard, jaw tight, eyes stormy. “She was exhausted last night. I told her to rest.”

“But she’s not in her room,” Ridoc pressed. “And this is Y/n. She’s not you—she doesn’t skip out on training unless she has a reason.”

Xaden didn’t respond, just turned and headed toward the estate gate, frustration building in his spine, his chest. He hated this—this hollow ache of not knowing where she was, the way his hands had started to shake slightly as time passed. Y/n never vanished without a word.

Until now.

And he hated how much it terrified him.

They made it halfway down the trail toward the village when a familiar laugh, like sunshine through thick clouds, danced on the wind.

Xaden stopped.

There she was.

Coming up the dirt path, hair braided in delicate Tyrrish knots, brilliant red and golden silks woven between the strands. Her cheeks were rosy from the sun, her eyes sparkling as she walked with a small basket of pastries, a few rune-marked beads in her hand.

She paused when she saw them—Xaden, Ridoc, Rhiannon, Garrick, Bodhi—all frozen mid-mission.

Her smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“You disappeared,” Xaden said, voice low, controlled, but not quite hiding the panic that had been clawing at his ribs.

Y/n blinked, confused. “I told Kaia I was going to the market.”

“Kaia didn’t tell anyone,” Ridoc added quickly. “I thought something had happened.”

Her face softened with understanding, and she stepped closer, holding out her hand as if to say I’m here, I’m safe. “I’ve been going to the market between training when I can. Trying to learn the knots the weavers use. A few words of the language. The kids there have been helping me pronounce them right.” Her lips curled. “I’m still terrible.”

Xaden stepped closer, looking at the silks in her hair, the way the elder women had tied them with such care. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted it to be for me,” she said softly, “and for you. I don’t want to just love you, Xaden. I want to love the land that made you, the people who shaped you, the language that lives in your blood.”

He stared at her—no words, no breath—just awe.

Ridoc, from behind, muttered, “Good gods, she’s going to ruin him.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at Xaden, who finally took the last step forward and gently cupped her face, fingers brushing over the silks.

“She already has,” he whispered.

And then, without shame or care for the watching squad, he kissed her forehead and pressed his against hers, exhaling like her presence alone was air.

She smiled. “You’re not mad?”

“No,” he said. “But if you vanish like that again, I will send an aerial search.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Duly noted.”

A few nights after – Riorson Estate, Their Room

The fire in the hearth was low, casting a soft amber glow across the stone walls. Y/n sat cross-legged on their bed, a worn Tyrrish book of runes and phrases resting in her lap, brows scrunched in concentration.

Xaden leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her mouth move as she whispered through the words under her breath.

“Shai’en dra vyr—” she tried again, frowning. “No, that doesn’t sound right.”

“It’s not,” Xaden said, voice low and amused. He pushed off the door and came to sit beside her on the bed, tugging the book gently from her hands. “You’re saying shadow rises in fire. What you want is Shai’en dra’vyr. The ‘vyr’ holds the emphasis.”

She looked at him, eyes narrowing. “And how would you know that?”

He arched a brow, smug. “I grew up speaking it, remember?”

She squinted, teasing. “Right, the Tyrrish heir with secret linguistic skills.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he murmured, brushing a curl off her cheek, “but I’ve been listening to you practice for weeks. It’s… kind of adorable.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Adorable?”

“Painfully so.” He opened the book and pointed at a line. “Here—try this one.”

Y/n sat up straighter and repeated it slowly. Her accent still bent some syllables, but she nailed the structure. He smiled, nodding.

“That was better.”

She beamed, clearly proud of herself. “Thanks, Professor Riorson.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do not call me that.”

“Oh, I absolutely will.”

Xaden leaned in close, his voice warm against her ear. “Keep teasing me and I’m going to start testing your conjugation mid-kiss.”

She laughed, turning her head to meet his gaze. “That a promise?”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. “You learning Tyrrish… it means more to me than I can say.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He smiled softly, then reached for her hand and guided her finger across the script in the book. “Come on, vy’reh, let’s keep going.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the word—Tyrrish for beloved. She squeezed his hand.

“Okay. Teach me.”

They had settled down in their bed after Xaden had helped her practive a few times. The candlelight flickered gently, casting shadows that danced across the pages of the Tyrrish language book lying open on the floor beside the bed. Y/n was curled into Xaden’s side, her head resting on his chest, finger idly tracing one of his scars. The silence was warm—thick with the kind of peace that only came after hours of being wrapped in one another.

Then she stirred slightly, voice hesitant but hopeful.

“Vy’reh sai dra…” She paused, biting her lip.

Xaden tilted his head, brow quirked. “What was that?”

She sat up a little, cheeks already flushing. “I was trying to say something, but I think I butchered it.”

He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Say it again.”

She took a breath and tried, slowly. “Vy’reh sai dra ven daren.”

He blinked, completely still.

She frowned. “Did I say it wrong? I meant—”

“You didn’t.” His voice was low, a little rough around the edges. “You said it right.”

Y/n tilted her head. “Really?”

He nodded, gently pulling her back into him. “You are my heart’s delight. That’s what you just said.”

She smiled shyly. “Yeah. That’s what I was trying to say.”

Xaden didn’t answer right away. He just pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck, lips brushing her skin. “Say it again.”

She giggled, whispering against his shoulder, “Vy’reh sai dra ven daren.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Gods, I’m never going to recover from that.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she teased.

“Only when it comes to you.”

He shifted so their foreheads touched, his eyes locked on hers. “One day, you’re going to say that to me in front of a full room, and I’ll drop to my knees.”

Y/n laughed softly. “Noted. I’ll keep practicing.”

“Please do. I want to hear it every day. A hundred different ways.”

Author's note: I have to be so honest, this chapter and the ones that follow are my absolute favorites! Like the absolute delight I got from writing them was incomparable.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life

If you want to be added to the taglist, leave a comment. <3

#iron flame #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #xaden riorson imagine #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson x y/n #ridoc x reader #ridoc and aotrom #onyx storm #the empyrean #of light and shadow

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averagewriter-inthedark · 11 months ago

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The Muse 🖌️| Ameond Tagaryen Headcanon

GOT/HOTD Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen marrying a noble who sketches/paints would look like:

To no surprise, your union to Aemond was a political alliance between your houses. Therefore you put on a brave face, accepted your duty, and courted the Prince for a short time before the wedding. In that time you learned a few things about Aemond, as he was rather reserved in the beginning, and you were the same. Civilized conversations, setting boundaries and expectations of the marriage, and promising not to cross the others line.

Having fell in love with art at a young age, you were always sketching in your notebook when alone--as your father discouraged your hobbies and expected you act like the rest of the people in court. So, hidden behind the walls of your chambers or in an empty courtyard with a quill or charcoal in hand, you sketched the beauties around you. The Godswood, the Blackwater Bay. The Septa Baelor and the Red Keep. Committing the image of the Iron Throne to memory, you inked a page with the mighty chair.

Beneath your bed you kept a trunk filled with oil paints, brushes, canvases, and other supplies you'd manage to accumulate by sneaking out to Flea Bottom with the one maid you trusted. (Not to mention you paid her a descent coin to keep your secret). All you sketched in your notebook soon took claim to a canvas. Capturing the beautiful scenery of King's Landing, you painted ships sailing in with a dragon flying in the background. Standing for hours from your bedchamber balcony, taking days or even weeks to finish the masterpiece.

With each finished portrait, you yearned for the next. Spending all your coin and pawning off materialist things given on namedays to rather buy supplies. Soon the only person besides your maid who knew of your secret hobby/talent was Helaena. You'd often spend time with the Princess and her children that one day, when asked about things that made you happy, you told her about your art. She instantly became intrigued, requesting to see the sketches/paintings and after thinking about it you eventually did show her.

Helaena was in awe of your work. "I've seen many paintings in the castle, and none have captured the King's Landing the way you do. You have an eye for beauty---I think you'd paint the family portraits better than the man they always hire." Soon your meetings evolved to you sitting by the windowsill sketching while Helaena focused on her embroidery while the children played. As a surprise nameday present for the Princess, you gifted her a portrait of her and the twins flying upon Dreamfyre. "This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I shall cherish it forever and pass it on to my daughter when she's older."

Around this time, you and Aemond's relationship progressed. You two went on walks, talked more and more with each day, and accompanied him to tourneys and banquets. Your admirations for him grew, turning into genuine love roughly four moons into your marriage. Long hours in the library, watching him train, and waiting for the other to arrive at the table before diving into your meal. Quality time became the thing you both valued in your relationship. Growing to compliments and light kisses to the cheek.

Aemond had no idea of your talent. Yet he did often wonder where you'd disappear to for hours. He'd see the ink on your hands and assume you were writing letters back home. Then he noticed charcoal stains and oils on your clothes. Since your chambers were still separate, he had no knowledge of your supplies hidden under your bed or how there was an easel on the balcony where you often painted.

It wasn't until he caught sight of the painting in the nursery that Aemond discovered your knack for the arts. Helaena had been embroidering while the children played, and you were having tea with the Queen, when Aemond asked his sister where she got the painting commissioned. Not realizing you hadn't told her brother, Helaena responded with, "Your spouse surprised me with it on my nameday. They painted it themself---Isn't it lovely?" To say he was stunned was an understatement. Aemond's jaw had dropped, scanning over the canvas with intensity, muttering so low Helaena barely heard him, "It is...exceptional."

On a mission to find you, Aemond hurried the halls with haste, now aware why you always had stains on your clothes and ink on your hands. Why you spent hours in the gardens and looked tired at breakfast. When he did eventually find you, Aemond simply said, "Why did you never tell me you liked to draw and paint?" Of course you were caught off guard, becoming nervous and shrunk under his gaze, "I did not think it was important. I was always told arts and music was not for someone of noble rank like us. I feared you'd be disappointed with me."

Aemond was a little hurt you kept your love for art hidden but understood. And from then on he made it his goal to learn everything he could about the subject. Trading gifts of jewelry for oils, charcoals, and inks. Making sure you had enough parchment and canvases. Aemond never pressured you to show him your work, knowing how personal it is for an artist, and instead asked about your progress. Beaming at the way you instantly light up and spoke with pride.

He had a feeling you sketched him in your notebook. Catching you glancing up at him multiple times when he reads in the library, your hand scattering across the page with ease. Aemond would purposefully maintain his position even when he's finished the book, as to not move and make you mess up. Smiling at the charcoal staining your fingers and silently hoping one day you'd allow him to see what inked your parchment.

Completely unaware he became your source of inspiration. Your muse. You not only sketched Aemond reading, but him training in the yard. Him speaking to his mother, his brother. Aemond with the twins. Aemond watching Vhagar patrol the skies and feeding his horse. You were mesmerized with everything about him. The Prince who conquered obstacles that made you feel like you were the only person on the planet. Aemond was your heart and soul. He was your muse.

And so on your 1-year anniversary, you surprised your husband with a gift he never would've expected. A painting of him and Vhagar. The one-eyed prince, known for his stoic nature, was nearly reduced to tears by the emotion consuming his entire being. His finger trailing over the scales of his dragon, the details of his riding gear and scar. How you managed to make it look like they were flying in the sky. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, "One day, if you allow me, I would love to have you sit for me for a portrait."

And when that time came, Aemond sitting in his pristine clothes, bearing his sapphire eye to you as a proclamation of his love and trust for you, you brought out your finest oils and brushes. Painting the man you loved the way you saw him, a beauty in the eyes of the beholder. A muse to an artist.

#aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond targaryen headcanon #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fluff #ewan mitchell #house targaryen headcanon #team green #hotd headcanon #hotd imagine #hotd

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dollishmehrayan · 7 months ago

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BATBOYS DATING INDIAN!READER ── .✦

a/n: this is request (here) by anon but omg, the amount of questions and research that went into this omgg so I hope you guys enjoy and that I didn’t get anything wrong omg but literally I have like 5 Indian friends and like lots of friends around the world so I tried to ask them but all of them approved.

tags: ( batboys x Indian!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Cultural Enthusiast: Dick loves learning about your culture and asks a million questions about the history and significance behind every tradition.

Loves Indian Food: He will absolutely insist on learning how to make your favorite dishes, though he might need a few tries to handle the spice levels. "Is this mild? Because it feels like lava."

Bollywood Drama Fan: He gets hooked on Bollywood movies. Expect him to belt out romantic Hindi songs after only watching the subtitles once. His favorite genre? Over-the-top romance.

Celebrates Everything: Dick will go all out for festivals like Diwali or Holi, decorating Wayne Manor and forcing Bruce to wear a kurta. ("C'mon, Bruce, it’s festive!")

Hyping Your Look: Anytime you wear a saree, lehenga, or traditional attire, he’s speechless, openly admiring you and saying, "How am I even real to have you?"

JASON TODD ── .✦

Subtle Learner: Jason isn’t the type to ask questions outright but will quietly research your culture on his own to better understand and appreciate it.

Obsessed with Snacks: Once he tries things like samosas, pani puri, or chaat, he’ll never shut up about them and ask you to teach him how to make them. “If I learn this, I’ll never go hungry again.

Festival Protectiveness: During Diwali, he’ll hover around you to make sure you’re safe from fireworks and loud crackers. "Do you need earplugs? I don’t trust this neighborhood."

Subtle Appreciation of Traditions: He loves when you tell stories of mythologies like the Mahabharata or Ramayana, quietly finding parallels with his own struggles.

Sassy Compliments: "You look like a goddess in that outfit, and I’ll fight anyone who disagrees."

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Loves the Details: Tim is absolutely fascinated by the intricate designs of your traditional clothing and the amount of work that goes into it. He’ll compliment every embroidery or bead.

Overthinks Gifting: For festivals or birthdays, he’ll spend hours trying to find the perfect gift that honors your culture—whether it’s jewelry, sarees, or books on Indian philosophy.

Enjoys the Food Adventure: Tim has a terrible spice tolerance but will bravely try your cooking just to impress you, tearing up while saying, "This is delicious."

Cultural Festivals, Tech Edition: He’ll help set up fairy lights or use tech to create a synchronized light show for Diwali, because "plain candles are too simple."

Admires Your Strength: Tim secretly loves how strong your cultural identity is and feels inspired by your confidence in embracing your heritage.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Mutual Respect: Damian respects and admires the depth of Indian culture, especially its emphasis on family, art, and honor. He’s intrigued by the philosophical aspects.

Desi Food Connoisseur: Out of all the Batboys, Damian handles spice the best and will genuinely enjoy dishes that others would find unbearably spicy. "This is not ‘too much.’ It’s perfect."

Loves Animals in Indian Mythology: Damian will listen intently when you explain the importance of animals like cows, elephants, or even Garuda in mythology, seeing them as sacred beings.

Precise Festival Preparations: He’ll research every aspect of your traditions to ensure he participates respectfully, whether it’s helping with rangoli or lighting diyas.

Secretly Protective: If someone mocks or misrepresents your culture, Damian will not hesitate to put them in their place. "You will show proper respect, or I’ll personally ensure you regret it."

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Tries His Best: Bruce doesn’t know much about your culture at first but will make a genuine effort to learn, from attending festivals with you to eating spicy dishes without flinching even if it burns.

Helps with Family Relations: If your family is strict or protective, Bruce’s natural charm and respect will win them over. He’ll probably wear a sherwani to meet your parents.

Thoughtful Gestures: For Diwali, Bruce will make sure the Batcave and Wayne Manor are cleaned, organized, and decorated to your liking, even if it takes hours.

Admires Your Strength: Bruce will respect how deeply you hold onto your culture and traditions while navigating Gotham’s challenges, seeing it as a reflection of your inner strength.

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minty-mumbles · 10 months ago

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LU Survey 2024 Results

The long awaited results of the survey. Thank you guys for being so patient with me :)

There were 350 responses to the survey this year! Not as many as there were last year, but still impressive. If you want to look at the raw data for this, you can do so here

Demographics

General Questions

Favorites and Least Favorites

Blank Space Question (Select Answers)

I'm so normal about Legend (the biggest lie I've ever told)

WIND BABY WIND OUGH IHGH UUOA I AM SICK FOR HIM MY SKRUNKLE MY OUGHGHHGJUA BELOVED

Remember that fandom is a community! Reach out to each other and learn something new! Give someone a compliment! Ask them a question! Encourage new artists and writers who are still learning! Thank you Mint for doing the survey again, too!

The fact no one has thought of calling Warrior's Zelda, "Areia" hurts me deeply "Hyppolita" even, please, with how much shipping there is between them, people sure are eager to name her after goddesses who have vowed to never have romantic relationships.

I dont think the fandom talks about it but i really love that every single piece of sky clothing is embroidered, because unless skyloft has embroidery machines thats all hand done. Which means either someone he knows makes a lot of them and gives them out freely (i give most of my projects to friends and family) or he would have paid someone for it, which means that either someone on skyloft lives of decorating clothing (and likely other fabrics) or someone just uses it to get some extra money (both are amazing since in the modern day people dont want to pay for handcrafted works what its actually worth)

Shark skeletons are made of cartilage, not bone

It's dangerous to go alone. Take this. 🦆

FOUR SUPREMACY🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥💚❤️💙💜💪💪💪💪🔛🔝💯💯💯💯💯

No but the Athena/Artemis thing is so real. What’s up with that. Why did we pick Artemis? Why did we do that?

I find it so funny how the fandom has decided to call Dark Link "Dink" because whenever I play a Zelda game I name my character Dink or Dinkus :D I started doing this waaaaay before I knew about LU

Im so excited for Echos of Wisdom! I find it really funny that Nintendo keeps making it harder for JoJo to stick to the plan, I'm pretty sure it's Legend and Fable but I'm not certain any ways Im really happy!

I love how LU is a culmination of so many of my favorite tropes from other fandoms! It’s been really comforting and nostalgic for me despite the fact that I only got into it this year. Especially since so many creators I liked have been getting revealed as problematic, it’s nice to be able to fall back on fictional characters who can’t ruin the lives of real people. :)

#lu survey 2024 #linked universe #long post #lu wild #lu time #lu twilight #lu legend #lu warriors #lu hyrule #lu wind #lu four #lu survey #graphs

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eggluverz · 2 years ago

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STARS FADING BUT I LINGER ON, DEAR

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader; dan feng x gn!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS. torture and imprisonment but nothing graphic or in detail!!

WORD COUNT. 5,332

SUMMARY. dan heng has been having dreams about you. they started off good—like a fairytale even. but soon he’s been getting the feeling something is wrong. you’re trapped and alone and can’t escape. dan heng wonders if his dreams are telling him something. and if they are…what is there for him to do?

SOF’S NOTE. *shoves this fic in everyone’s face* LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT MY BABY!! PLS LOVE IT AND TREASURE IT!!! CRADLE IT GENTLE IN UR HANDS!!!! okay on a more serious note ahdjkdkd thank u anon for this amazing request i absolutely adored writing this 🥺🫶 idk where all the flower symbolism and dreams came from bc ik its not the in req but yk what it spoke to me for this story so i rolled w it HDJSKD i hope y’all enjoy!! :>

“What are all those flowers for?” you giggled, watching as Dan Feng entered the room with a cart full of peonies in tow.

It looked a little ridiculous; the elegant and renowned Imbibitor Lunae wheeling around an absurd amount of white, pink, and red flowers. But Dan Feng never cared about pretenses when he was with you. He always felt comfortable enough to be himself, no matter how ridiculous it appeared.

As he approached, he held a small, blooming red peony out between his fingertips. “They’re for you, naturally.”

He brushed your hair aside and gently tucked the stem of the flower behind your ear, admiring how the deep red of the flower complimented your complexion.

“Beautiful.”

You looked down at your feet with a small chuckle before meeting his gaze again. “Thank you. You’re beautiful as well.”

“Thank you, my love,” said Dan Feng, his hand resting on your waist as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Do you like the flowers?”

You nodded, feeling the soft petals of the flower in your hair between your fingers as you stared at the bundles of peonies in the cart he brought in. Dan Feng walked over when he saw you staring and led you to each section of colors.

“These are pink—to show my affection for you.” He picked a flower and kissed the petals before bringing it to your mouth to reciprocate. You obliged with a giggle and he smiled and hid the scandalous flower in his sleeves. “These are white peonies, to let you know I’m always thinking of you.”

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the careful embroidery on the silken fabrics. “You’re always on my mind, too.”

“Good,” he jested. “As I should be.”

Without warning, he brought your body flush against his chest and captured your mouth with his own, softly tugging at your lower lip. You chased after his touch to give him a kiss of your own, but he soon pulled away with a teasing grin on his face.

You pouted. “Hey!”

“Patience, beloved,” said Dan Feng. “I still haven’t gotten to the last color.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies,” you said sarcastically, knowing he was the very reason he hadn’t finished his own speech. “Please, carry on.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He cupped your face and stroked the petals on the flower behind your ear. The sensation of his light fingers brushing against the soft flower petals tickled the skin around your ear and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “This flower is a red peony, to symbolize just how passionate I am for you.” Dan Heng stared into your eyes before he spoke. “I hope you know how much I love you, truly.”

“I know,” you said, gaze not once meeting his. Your stomach tightened and your heart started beating faster as you placed his warm hand on your chest. “I love you, Dan Feng. Every part of my being is yours.”

“And mine, yours.”

Dan Feng took your hand in his, leading you into your bed chambers. You had never felt more loved and wanted than in this moment. But when you entered the room and looked up, the hand you were holding was no longer Dan Feng’s.

Instead, your hand was clutching an iron bar instead of your lover’s hand, shackled in chains on your wrists and ankles. Dan Feng was gone and you were stuck in here for eternity.

You cried out, body racking with helpless sobs. Every fiber of your being—mind, body, spirit—missed him so much. The worst part wasn’t the torture, the solitary confinement, the lack of access to basic human needs.

No, that was nothing.

Nothing compared to knowing you would never see Dan Feng again.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Dan Heng woke with a start, hair plastered to us forehead with sweat. His pillow and blanket were both strewn across the floor of the Archives and he found himself on his bed alone, a heavy pounding coming from the place where his heart should be. His heart hurt so much he wondered if it was even his.

He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to take a deep breath to calm himself down.

That was the third time this week Dan Heng had a dream like that.

Before, it wasn’t terribly uncommon for him to dream about your experiences with his past reincarnation. Dan Heng thought it was strange at first— Why is he dreaming of your memories rather than Dan Feng’s? But the Archives had no answer, so he was forced to accept the fact with mild curiosity as he grew accustomed to the untraditional visions that manifested as dreams that he has been having.

Still, the strange part wasn’t that he had dreams of you, the strange part was that recently, since the Astral Express left Luofu, Dan Heng has been getting bad dreams of you. Or, to be precise, he’s been experiencing bad memories you have gone through.

Dan Heng thought the torture was the worst of it. As cold blades cut against your warm skin, Dan Heng felt each push. Each puncture. Each drop of blood they drew from your veins. He woke up constantly in pain, checking his own body to be sure it wasn’t happening to him.

But he learned a new form of torture that came from the heart. The solitude and loneliness. The knowledge that the one you loved most has perished— Was forced to reincarnate and never see you again.

The pain on his body was temporary. But Dan Heng felt the ache in your soul every minute of every day.

He just doubted there was anything he could do to stop it.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“Y/N,” came a quiet voice from outside the cell. “I came to check on you again.”

You looked up from your thin futon to meet Jing Yuan’s remorseful eyes. Your living conditions have been upgraded from those you’ve experienced for decades now. No longer were you in chains— You had access to a bath, and they even offered you books and enough food to sustain you. All while confined in a cell, of course.

Perhaps they no longer viewed you as a threat. Not that they should have ever viewed you as such in the first place. You didn’t understand why you were punished solely for being Dan Feng’s lover. You weren’t a warrior. You didn’t hold any position of power. You were a scholar and lover of books and plants. But you’re an accomplice, the Preceptors said as they mercilessly chained you up.

If you weren’t knocked into unconsciousness moments after, you would’ve spit at their faces as they took you away.

“Y/N…”

You snapped out of your thoughts, dragging your gaze to the man in front of your cell. Placing your book to the side, you smiled up at Jing Yuan. “Sorry about that. I was a little out of it there.”

Jing Yuan frowned and your heart moved, feeling the depth of his sadness. “No need to apologize. Tell me, how have you been?”

“Good, I have to say,” you said, sitting up straight on your bed. “I’m almost finished with the book you gave me last time.”

He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“Is something the matter?” you asked as you stood and walked over to him, offering a hand of comfort through the iron bars.

Jing Yuan took it, giving you a gentle squeeze before dropped your hand. The rush of human contact, despite how brief it was, coursed through you. It’s been so long since you felt the touch of another person.

“Dan Heng and his friends left the Xianzhou Luofu,” he said solemnly.

Your eyes shut as you let your forehead press against the cool metal of your cell. A tear fell down your cheek but a smile remained on your face. “That’s… That is good. He should be free from this place. Dan Heng is happiest that way, correct?”

“That is how it seems,” Jing Yuan sighed. He held back his words for a moment, hesitant. But as he looked at you, he could not longer keep it in. “Do you still think it was the right decision to not inform Dan Heng that you are here?”

You let out a quiet laugh, taking a seat on the floor and Jing Yuan soon followed suit. “What would he do with that information? What if he felt guilty—? That could hold him back.”

“Are you certain that is a choice for you to make?”

Sighing, you shook your head. It wasn’t your choice to make; it was Dan Heng’s. You knew that deep down inside. But what could you do when you were aware of Dan Heng’s aversion to his past—to any potential connection to Dan Feng? And thus, any connection to you?

You felt it, you dreamed about it. Dan Heng’s hatred for his past reincarnation. You mourned for them. Both Dan Feng and Dan Heng. For the former, you knew it must be hard having no connection to your reincarnation. Was his soul no longer tethered to this world? Perhaps he felt lost, even in the afterlife. For the latter, you did not blame any resentment that came from him. You knew all too well that being judged and punished based off the actions of another person was unjust. You wouldn’t wish it upon anybody.

And so, it made sense to you that Dan Heng wanted to accept his past for what it was, and then be free from it. You did not want to interfere with that. Especially not when he was so close to healing and making a good, happy life for himself.

And now, after Jing Yuan told you Dan Heng and his friends finished their adventures in the Xianzhou Luofu, excited to take on the rest of the galaxies, you thought that maybe you made the right choice. You would be happy enough here, alone in this prison, if you knew your beloved was free.

It was a decision you made yourself, for Dan Heng.

And it was one you hoped you wouldn’t regret.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“Foolish! No!” Dan Heng thrashed in his sleep, wanting to reach out and shake you to your senses. He’s had terrible dream after terrible dream, but this was one he couldn’t simply let go of.

This one seemed more recent than any of the others. That was not a dream of a distant memory from long ago— No, the Astral Express that Jing Yuan spoke of in Dan Heng’s dream had only departed Xianzhou Luofu a few days ago now. That meant you were there, locked up right under his nose, for the entirety of his stay at the Luofu. And no one told him a thing.

Dan Heng had to control his fury. He felt hurt and betrayed, despite not having a true, personal connection with you himself. He wasn’t Dan Feng and, deep down, he recognized he didn’t have a claim to your thoughts, feelings, and emotions. But the pain he felt from knowing you were there, and that maybe, just maybe, he could’ve done something to help you sooner, was something Dan Heng couldn’t shake.

He knew what he had to do.

Perhaps it was bold, impulsive, and maybe dismissive of their current plans, but he had to do it. Dan Heng took a deep breath, not waiting for the night to turn into day. He was going to ask Pom-Pom to please turn this damn train around.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“Where are they?”

Much to no one’s surprise, Jing Yuan seemed to know exactly what Dan Heng was talking about. What else could be important enough for Dan Heng to barge into the Seat of Divine Foresight without a word of warning?

Jing Yuan quickly excused the meeting he was holding, biding a quick apology and saying they would reconvene shortly. Despite the newfound privacy, he still didn’t reveal anything to Dan Heng.

“Well, good afternoon to you as well, Dan Heng—”

“Stop. There’s no time for formalities right now.” Dan Heng folded his arms, hands clutched into tight fists by his sides. “Where are the Preceptors keeping them? And why the hell haven’t you done anything to help Y/N?”

With a heavy sigh, Jing Yuan took a seat in his chair, gesturing Dan Heng to sit across from him. A gesture Dan Heng pointedly ignored. He wasn’t here to sit down and take his time. He wanted to know where you were now so he could get you out of there. The torture, the poor treatment, the punishment for something you didn’t do... It wasn’t fair. He could hardly put up with it in his dreams. He wondered how it was possible for you to even be surviving all this time.

“It may surprise to you here,” Jing Yuan stated, voice low, “but as much influence I have over Xianzhou, the Preceptors unfortunately remain untouched by that.”

Dan Heng’s grip loosened, momentarily feeling guilty for assuming Jing Yuan did not try to help you in any way. From what his dreams could see, Jing Yuan was one of the only people who frequently visited you— Which was already more than he could say for himself.

His face hardened but he relented. “I’m sorry for suggesting such a thing.”

Jing Yuan gave him a half-smile through hooded eyes. “If you hold any recollection of Dan Feng’s time with them, I don’t blame you for having such a severe reaction. Y/N was—is…remarkable.”

“I shouldn’t know that myself,” said Dan Heng quietly. “Yet somehow, I know you’re right.”

He looked at the ground solemnly, suddenly frightened that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help you after all. If the Cloud Knight General Jing Yuan couldn’t influence the Preceptors, what could he do?

He shook the negative thoughts out of his head. Sure, Dan Heng wasn’t Jing Yuan, but he was the reincarnation of Dan Feng, the previous High Elder and Imbibitor Lunae. Dan Heng was the friend and ally of current High Elder Bailu. Dan Heng had the General backing him with a token of alliance. And Dan Heng would stop at nothing to free you from your shackles.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

The process was more painstaking than Dan Heng had originally thought. After informing Jing Yuan of his plan to speak to Bailu, Dan Heng soon realized that conversing with her would be the easiest part.

The Dragon Lady was kind and had a good heart. She cared for other people and didn’t want to see anyone in pain. The difficult part came from feeling the lack of respect the Preceptors had for her. They treated her as more of a child than a High Elder, even withholding her title of Imbibitor Lunae until they deemed she was “of age.” But Dan Heng thought she had more sense and knowledge than all of the Preceptors combined.

It took negotiations, possible acts of coercion that broke many Vidyadhara laws, and even the threat of Dan Heng to follow in his past life’s footsteps and destroy the seal at Scalegorge Waterscape and many more places… But Dan Heng, along with the assistance and backing of Bailu and Jing Yuan, finally got the Preceptors to agree to release you without forcing a reincarnation.

You had suffered decades for a crime you had no hand in committing. The Preceptors were simply scared your love for Dan Feng would influence you to be a main headpiece in carrying out the rebellion against the Xianzhou Luofu—hence why those in charge had originally agreed to keep you here. But Jing Yuan was the residing general now, and with his army at his side, he was able to voice that he no longer viewed imprisonment on this land to be befitting of you as a solid conclusion. Bailu stated, as a complete bluff that anyone could have seen right through, that if you were not released immediately and given the opportunity to be reconnected with Dan Heng, she would no longer be as willing to repair any seals, should they be harmed in the future.

Somehow, instead of all three of them getting locked up for treason or whatever Vidyadhara laws they horribly crossed, they managed to succeed in their goal of winning your freedom. The Preceptors wrote in their official records the release date of prisoner Y/N and agreed to escort one of them to your cell.

Jing Yuan and Bailu, of course, both opted for Dan Heng to be the person who sees you first. But only after making him promise they would get to see you once you settled into your new life.

Dan Heng smiled, thanking them for their part in this operation. And when night came, he spoke his vow to you under the endless stars.

He would see you soon. And this time, he would never let anything bad happen to you again.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“More peonies?” you asked with a laugh, staring in awe at the field of flowers that were newly planted on the grounds of your estate. The bright colors of the petals flushed against the dark green of the leaves lined the gardens of your grand quarters.

Dan Feng nodded, the trimmings on his sleeves detailed with the faint embroidery of petals dancing around the wind. Your heart warmed when you saw it. It was fitting for him, such a beautiful and caring soul.

“I had them planted for you,” he said, gesturing at the arrangement around you. He smiled, his eyes glinting. “Because one cartful just wasn’t enough.”

You shook your head as you went around the rows of peonies, touching the petals in awe of the spring bloom in the air. The smell was sweet and the wind was cool, providing the right amount of breeze to offset the heat of the sun. First, you went to the patch of white peonies, then pink, then red. Then, you noticed a shade Dan Feng hadn’t given to you before.

“Yellow peonies?” you said curiously, Dan Feng following along as you explored the gardens fit for royalty. Because, he had said before, to him, you were.

“Indeed.” He plucked one from the bush, careful not to ruin the stem of the plant itself. Slowly, he brought it up against the light in the sky. “Yellow. As radiant as the sun.”

You stared up, shading your eyes as to not get blinded by the brightness. “It shines almost as brightly as you.”

Dan Feng made a noise of amusement at your words. “I should be the one saying that to you.”

“Perhaps you should speak faster,” you teased.

You walked over to him, placing your hand in his and leading him to a field of grass. When you got to an area you liked, you sat down on the floor, gesturing for him to follow suit. Dan Feng brushed at the fabric of his clothes once before happily obliging. As you sat there, you looked over at Dan Feng and studied the look of serenity on his face. His expression was calm, his eyes were soft and the corners of his mouth tilted ever so slightly into a smile. In the hand that was not holding yours, he held the yellow peony still in hand.

“Does it symbolize anything? Like the others?”

He nodded. “Yellow peonies are rare to come by. Only the most renowned of breeders can craft one to the perfect shade.”

At his words, you looked back at the abundant row of yellow peonies dressing your land. You wondered how much effort he went through in searching for the perfect shade to gift you.

“They’re to symbolize my wishes for you,” stated Dan Feng, toying with the edge of a petal with his thumb. “I wish to bestow upon you luck and prosperity, for the rest of your life.”

“I think I’ve used all the luck I possibly could, finding someone like you,” you giggled, bumping your shoulder against his before leaning your head on it. Dan Feng breathed deeply, resting his head on top of yours. “And the only prosperity I wish for is to be prosperous in love. With you.”

He laughed, a deep rumble vibrating against your body. “So, all your wishes of luck and prosperity have already come true? What need was there for me to gift you these flowers, then?”

You held your palm out, waiting for Dan Feng to place the yellow peony at its center. He gently laid it there, letting his fingers linger against your skin.

“I’m glad you gifted me these,” you reassured him. “Now, when I walk by, they will always serve as a reminder of the radiant peony right in front of me.”

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

The next morning, Dan Heng entered the dark corridor with a flower tucked into a hidden pocket of his outer garments.

While he was nervous about how you might react to him going against your wishes that you expressed to Jing Yuan, his determination to assure your freedom was more than enough to counteract that. If Dan Heng truly wanted to be freed of his past and atone for the wrongdoings of Dan Feng, he would need to make sure no one else was being punished for his actions.

He had helped repair the Ambrosial Arbor’s seal at Scalegeorge Waterscape, to atone for Dan Feng’s acts against the current High Elder and all of the Luofu Vidyadhara. Now, he would release you from decades of unjust punishment you suffered simply for being associated with him.

“Y/N, you have a visitor,” one of the Preceptors said dryly, unlocking a cell. The hooded man could hardly hide the look of distaste on his face a before he rolled his eyes and walked away. “I’m sure you two must have plenty to catch up on. Leave here quickly before we change our minds.”

Dan Heng peered into the entrance, his gaze meeting your confused and alarmed face in an instant.

You looked between Dan Heng and the open cell, not a Preceptor in sight. “Is this a test?”

He shook his head, showing you the official pardon signed by Bailu, Jing Yuan, and a representative of the Preceptors. You held the document in your hands, reading its contents and feeling the seal to believe it’s legitimacy, before giving it back to him. He felt your hands tremble as you made brief contact with his and he was overcome with the urge to comfort you.

“This isn’t a test,” he promised, looking into your eyes in hopes you would see the truth in them. “You really are free from here.”

You let out an amused noise of disbelief, shaking your head. “Oh, Dan Heng… What did you do?”

He startled at the sound of his name coming from your lips. He was so accustomed to you only repeating Dan Feng over and over in his dreams that this felt almost refreshing.

“Rather, what did Jing Yuan do?” you corrected, laughing quietly as you stood up from your seated position. Your robes, once beautifully crafted, were worn and tattered. But the light in your eyes never waned. “I told him not to tell you.”

“He didn’t,” said Dan Heng. He considered his statement before adding, “I suppose eventually he did confirm it, but I was the one who confronted him about it.”

You raised a curious brow. “And how, pray tell, did you know about this…situation?”

“From my dreams.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. For once, you were speechless.

“I know it’s more normal to have dreams about your past reincarnation,” he stated, neatly folding the document in his hands before sliding it away into his pocket. “But, while I occasionally had dreams of Dan Feng’s life—bad ones normally, might I add—it’s been more common to have dreams of you.”

With a slow and shaky breath, you shut your eyes to think. “You’d had dreams of Dan Feng’s memories of me, do you mean?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re dreams of your memories. Some included your moments with Dan Feng from long ago, yes. Others were you in this prison. A recent one was of Jing Yuan visiting you and in it you said not to tell me about this.”

You chuckled helplessly. “What good did that do, after all?”

“Why didn’t you want me to know? Why didn’t you want me to help you?”

“It wasn’t that!” you protested, your eyes telling stories your words could not keep up with. You sighed. “Okay, it was.”

Dan Heng let out a sharp breath.

“However, it’s not for the reasons you might be thinking,” you corrected, arms folded over your chest. “I’ve come to accept my life being imprisoned here. It’s given me a lot of time to think and reflect. And, similar to you, I’ve occasionally had dreams of you, Dan Heng.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“They weren’t long nor were they frequent. But what I have gathered from them, scarce as they were, is you resent Dan Feng. You don’t want any ties to your past. And you’ve accomplished so much growth and closure, finally freeing yourself from all that burdened you. What good would it be to drag you back here and make you relive this?”

“You sound ridiculous.”

His words were harsh and it stopped you right in your tracks. You stared at him, eyes wide as they peered into his, but he couldn’t let that stop the words of logic from coming out of his mouth.

“You’re not a saint nor are you a martyr. You don’t have to try to be one. You’re a person, and for that you should be free in your own right. You’re a Vidyadhara, trapped and punished for actions that were not your own. I understand what you’ve been through— I’ve been there, too.” Dan Heng held his hand out to you from outside your prison cell, waiting for you to walk out and accept it. “Furthermore, you are a kind and loving soul, and you don’t deserve to spend a single moment in this place. Please, accept my help.”

Your cheeks were wet as you nodded your head. Slowly, you placed your cold, shaky hand in his. He felt your cool skin against his warm one and he enveloped your hands gently, brushing your knuckles with his thumb to share the heat in his body.

“I’ve wanted to get out of here so badly,” you admitted through silent tears. “I hated being confined and alone. I felt helpless. Pathetic.” He watched with a heavy heart as you wiped your own tears away. Could he reach out and do it for you instead? He chastised himself. As much as he wanted to, he had no right. “But you suffered so much in your past life—in this life even. I didn’t want to cause you any more pain.”

Dan Heng shook his head. “What brings me the most pain is knowing you were suffering for so long, and I didn’t help you.”

“How could you help when you didn’t know?” you reasoned with a sad smile. “I’m sorry for making Jing Yuan promise to never let you know.”

His eyes squeezed shut as a sharp pang ran through his heart. “Please. Please promise me you won’t do something like that again. If you need me, I want to be there for you. Always.”

You gaze widened at his words before you recollected yourself.

Dan Heng winced as he understood what he said. His mind and soul were confused. He knew he wasn’t Dan Feng, that this was the first moment he has ever had with you. But why does he feel like he’s known you forever?

After a few moments of silence, as if you were giving him time to amend what he said, you finally spoke. “Okay. I promise.”

He felt every muscle in his body relax at those words. He knew the promise you spoke was true to your heart. Dan Heng believed it with all his being and he let that console him.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

With one of your hands still in his, he slowly led you out of the corridor and up the stairs, away from your cold and dark prison.

“What are you going to do now that you’re free?” Dan Heng asked, hating himself for hoping your future plans would somehow include keeping in touch with him. “Will you…stay on the Luofu?”

Your body tensed as a shiver went down your spine. You shook your head fervently as your expression twisted into one of grief. Dan Heng’s heart stirred at the sight. He knew that feeling all too well, and it pained him knowing you had similar conflicts to go through. “No, that’s the last thing I want to do. I won’t stay here. At least not now.”

“I understand.”

You gave him a weak, but hopeful smile as he squeezed your hand softly.

“And you?” you wondered, looking at him with thoughtful and eyes as you awaited his response.

“I’m going to the Astral Express to continue on with our adventures,” he said with his lips upturned. “It’s a great place to call home, especially when you’ve lost the only place you had once called home.” He stared at you for a moment. “If you would like to join us—join me—I think you would very much enjoy it.”

You teared up at his offer. “Can you really just invite people like that?”

Dan Heng briefly thought of the girl they picked us as an icicle and the boy who they found with no knowledge of the past. He considered your situation. “Yes, we really can.”

The sunlight from outside finally started shining through the walkway, signaling that you were almost out as a freed person.

“Also,” he said, before he could forget, “I, myself, would want you to come join our crew, even if it’s only for a little while. You can stay for as long as you want, and leave whenever you want as well.”

Your ears perked up at that. “I like the sound of that. If the Astral Express will have me, then I would love to join.”

Dan Heng smiled as he patted the top of your head. Your body relaxed at his touch as you leaned into him, and he continued to hold onto you as you approached the exit. “No one will threaten your freedom ever again. That is my oath to you.”

You started at him, brows furrowed in determination. “And I vow the same to you. These new beginnings will bring only freedom and prosperity.”

At that word, Dan Heng suddenly remembered the small gift he brought for you. He blushed as he felt the soft petals of the peony in his large pocket.

“I have something for you,” he said, slowly stopping in his tracks. He turned towards you and you followed suit, tilting your head to the side in question. “It’s nothing big. But it’s a token. A reminder.”

He held out the peony in one hand, watching as your eyes lit up at the sight of it. Your mouth widened as you let out a noise of laughter, accepting his gift and holding it close to your chest.

“Thank you, Dan Heng,” you said, tears of happiness filling your eyes. “I love it.”

It wasn’t yellow— He wasn’t the bright and radiant Dan Feng you knew and loved. It wasn’t red or pink, even. While he felt traces of love and attraction for you from his past memories, he knew in his heart that wasn’t really him developing those feelings for you.

Instead, it was a white peony.

You were always in his thoughts. It was both a blank slate, and a gentle reminder. He would never forget you, and as he got to experience life with you, who knew what dashes of color would be mixed in next with this pearly white.

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