#my weakness

My third moss entry 0773 for @zoroartcollab ⚔️✨ Samurai aesthetics are my weakness🫶

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Pairing: Yeon Sieun x F reader

Warnings: none I belive

Genre: Fluff, Sieun who’s becoming vulnerable with you

You’ve always known Sieun wasn’t the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeve.

He’s composed, highly reserved, calculated and private.

His thoughts and feelings were only ever slightly shown through shifts in his eyes and the way he looked at you. Most the time, he was indecipherable. Reserved like a locked chest, but never in a cruel way.

Affection from him often feels like sunlight through frostglass: there, but always muted.

Until now.

The bedside lamp next to you throws soft golden hues across the room. You’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing one of his shirts, slightly too big for you, the fabric tainted with the faint smell of his cologne.

He stands across the room, pretending to look through a book he’s already read twice, fingers fidgeting the words in front of him. But you know he hasn’t turned a page in five minutes.

“You’re staring again,” you say, with a soft voice

His eyes lift slowly but there’s something in them that ticks you. He’s not looking at you with irritation as if you interrupted him, nor a blank unbothered stare, but something far more raw.

He doesn’t answer. Just watches you.

You smile. “What?”

He closes the book, finally walking over. The bed creaks slightly under his weight as he sits beside you, his hand finds yours without a word. His thumb brushes your knuckles, the gesture unusually tender for someone so… closed.

“You make it hard,” he says in a low voice.

Your brows rise. “Hard to what?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s debating whether to say these next words. “To keep pretending I don’t feel anything.”

Your chest tightens. This is rare. And the way he’s looking at you, dark yet soft eyes, it makes you forget how to breathe.

“I’m not asking you to pretend,” you whisper.

“I know.” His hand grips slightly tighter around yours.

You move to say something, but his palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing just below your eye. The look on his face isn’t blank anymore. It’s broken open, soft, desperate, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of you like you were soon about to disappear.

Sieun, the one you’ve always known as distant even romantically, is crumbling in your hands.

Your heart stutters. He leans in, slow, giving you time to pull away. You don’t. His forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“I thought I was above this,” he says, lips brushing against your skin. “I thought I didn’t need anyone.”

He paused, it felt difficult for him to let out his authentic feelings, but you made it easier to.

”But you… you make me feel so much it almost hurts.”

You can feel the trembling in his hand, the tension in his shoulders as if he’s battling every instinct not to retreat.

He’s folding.

The man who once clung to solitude as survival is falling apart in your arms, not because he’s weak, but because the warmth you bring to him is just enough to melt his frozen heart.

“You don’t have to hold back,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair. “Not with me.”

His mouth finds yours, gentle at first, still battling everything in him that screams to run away. But then you feel the shift. The desperation. The way his hand wrap behind your back, pulling you into him. His kiss deepens, no longer careful but needy, he was bare, unraveled.

Sieun isn’t in control anymore, and allows it to be. Putting all his trust into you, like he’s never done before.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are glassy, jaw tight with emotion. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, just breathing there.