#Hire a companion for events

[khari1]

Why Talking to Someone Matters: The Psychology Behind Sharing Feelings

In today’s fast-paced digital world, many people struggle with loneliness, stress, and emotional burdens. While social media and messaging apps have made communication easier, they often lack the depth of real conversations. That’s where Reeamor comes in — a platform designed to provide companionship and a safe space to share your feelings without the pressure of a dating app.

But why is talking to someone so important? Let’s explore the psychological benefits of sharing your emotions and how Reeamor can help.

The Science Behind Sharing Feelings

1. Emotional Release & Stress Reduction

Bottling up emotions can lead to anxiety, depression, and even physical health issues. Talking about your feelings provides emotional catharsis, helping you process emotions better. Studies show that expressing emotions reduces stress and promotes mental clarity.

2. Improved Mental Health

Sharing thoughts and feelings with someone can help in dealing with loneliness, sadness, and anxiety. According to psychological research, simply verbalizing emotions can reduce their intensity, making it easier to cope with challenges.

3. Strengthening Social Connections

Humans are social beings, and talking to someone helps strengthen relationships. Even if it’s a one-time conversation, it can bring a sense of belonging and connection. Reeamor provides a unique space where users can talk to someone without expectations or long-term commitments.

4. Better Decision-Making & Problem-Solving

When you talk about a problem, you gain new perspectives and clarity. Whether it’s a personal issue or work-related stress, discussing it with someone can help you find solutions.

5. Boosted Self-Confidence & Emotional Resilience

Expressing emotions helps in self-awareness and personal growth. Talking to someone about your thoughts and fears can boost self-confidence and make you more emotionally resilient over time.

How Reeamor Helps You Find a Listener

Reeamor is not a dating app — it’s a safe space for emotional connection and companionship. Whether you need someone to talk to after a long day, share your thoughts, or just have a casual conversation, Reeamor connects you with real people who care.

✅ Easy to use — Find a listener instantly. ✅ Safe & private — Secure conversations with verified users. ✅ Flexible — Pay per hour, with no long-term commitments. ✅ Diverse connections — Talk to people from different backgrounds and perspectives.

Start Your Journey with Reeamor Today!

If you’re looking for someone to talk to, whether for emotional support or a casual conversation, Reeamor is here for you.

🔗 Click here to explore Reeamor now!

[yoonia]

tears of the sea (m) | kth

— title: The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea | pairings: Taehyung x female reader| genre: Siren!Taehyung, Smut, Mystery, Slight Horror | word count: 6,350 words

— summary: after a long time spent apart, he finally came in the night, accompanied by the soft, haunting serenade which he has been singing for you since the day you left, putting your broken souls together back into one.

— ratings & warnings: +18 / M for mature; curses, black magic, siren’s spell, mention of hypnotism, mention of pregnancy and child birth, body horror (shape-shifting), body worship (mentions of body dysmorphia), explicit smut scenes: nudity, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), breast play, clit play, public sex (sex on the beach), unprotected sex, rough sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms. 

— original: The Forsaken by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 24th, 2024 — song companion: half the world away — written as part of my 2024 birthday bash event, 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊, created based on this request. 

How many nights have you done something like this?

To find yourself walking across the beach, over the jagged rocks lining the water’s edge, with the steady waves crashing over your feet and ankles. 

On most nights, you would find yourself drawn to the sea by the ghostly sounds of a tune, serenading you to come out of your shelter before it would fade into the night. Other nights, you would come out here with the hope of seeing a shadow of a movement dancing between the waves, to see the sight of a figure that had been filling your dreams, of seeing rough viridescent scales slinking across the water when you look on towards the night. 

The only times you stopped visiting the water’s edge had been the night your daughter was born, and the many nights after when you were still too weak to travel out into the night and onto the seashore.

And those nights had been the most peculiar moment of your life. The alluring tune you heard kept echoing from the sea each time your newborn baby girl was crying and you were too exhausted and spent to soothe her. Yet those tunes had always managed to calm her down, just the way it eased your lonely soul, as if there was some kind of a magic force flowing through the night, through the water, coming in the waves, just to help make your baby girl—and you—feel safe. 

And now you are back here, just like the many nights that have passed since six months ago, when your baby was born, lured towards the water’s edge at the sound of the same tune serenading for you to come. 

Out here, there are no lights to guide you. Nothing but the glowing moonlight falling from above. You look back over your shoulder towards your cabin on the top of the nearest hill, where your baby girl had just fallen asleep in her crib. 

Leaving her behind feels heavy. If not for Mira, the young local girl you recently hired to be her caretaker, you would have never been able to step out of your temporary home. The home that was built by the people of the tribe for you to reside. To welcome you as a part of them, even when you never felt like you had truly become one of them. 

The island of Parram. 

You arrived here one year ago in your boat after a long journey. All because of the Fountain of Life, the source of magic that would be able to restore life and prosperity. Everything that your island—your tribe, your people—needed needed for the sake of their survival. 

But that long journey had given you more than one blessing. 

Not only had you found the Fountain of Life and the Elder who had learned about the magic and how to use it to save your home island, but you have also been blessed with the birth of your baby girl. 

The latter had been the reason why you are still here on this island, while your travel companion, Namjoon, and Elder Moira travelled across the sea to bring home the magic from the Fountain of Life. The presence of your child and your steady recovery from childbirth had been deemed too risky for you to challenge the journey home. So you stayed, even if only for a while. 

Your moment of wondering about life and the mystery of your fate is suddenly disrupted by a rough, splashing sound coming from the nearby waters. It sounds nothing like the steady waves; so abrupt and violent, that it immediately draws your attention towards the dark waters by the shore. 

And that is when you see it; a sparkle of viridescent scales slinking between the jagged rocks breaking apart the waves, before it slips into the darkness and disappears into the water’s edge. 

Heart pounding, you hike up the front of your nightdress and hastily rush towards where the sparkle of scales had faded into. The rocks feel sharp against the soles of your feet, and the water feels cold on your skin, soaking the ends of your dress, yet you keep going, searching, until you see a figure rising in the dark. 

You are breathless when you come to a halt. Your heart is pounding when you see him. 

Standing between some high, unruly rocks, with crashing waves rising as tall as his shoulders and dark, wet sand beneath his feet, he stands on unsteady legs, as if being on land has taken away his sense of gravity. 

And he is glowing. 

The sight draws a gasp out of you. It seems magical. Enchanting. And then your eyes slowly adjust to the bleakness of the night and soon notice what is making him appear as if he is emitting lights. 

Just like how his legs are still trying to adjust to land, his skin is taking its time to shift. As you take a few steps closer, you can finally see them; the bright, viridescent scales on his skin which are still present, glistening as they reflect the bright moonlight coming from the night sky above. 

Slowly, the scales begin to melt into his skin. In their places, dots of redness appear, until they all fade and his skin turns smooth right in front of your eyes. 

The last time you met, the scales on his skin, the gills that appeared on the sides of his neck and ribs—which had now melted into smooth skin, with nothing but fading red lines left behind—and other changes on his facial features, had all frightened you enough to let out a scream. Looking at him now, with the remnants of his true appearance slowly fading away, he looks—beautiful. 

Truly beautiful. 

You look up just as he slowly raises his head, quickly realising that you are not the only one who has changed. His body appears bigger, stronger, with more solid muscles growing on his limbs and chest and less scar marring his skin. His hair has grown longer, framing his face as they fall under the weight of the water soaking each strand. 

You don’t realise that you have reached him until he lifts his head, and his face appears so close to you. His eyes glow in bright, golden yellow, looking inhuman for a brief moment until he blinks, and a pair of dark eyes are looking back at you. His gaze is filled with longing and sorrow, one that you can immediately feel in your chest as you return his gaze with your own. 

His lips, which have been in your dreams for many nights since you were apart, twist into a smile. “You’re here,” he says in his deep voice which sounds almost like a serenade. 

Just like his voice, his whole presence feels like an enchantment, a magic spell that keeps pulling you towards him, that you are brought closer and closer. Close enough that you can almost feel the warmth of his skin without touching. 

“I—” You try to speak, yet the words are caught on your tongue. You have so many things to say to him that you have no idea where to start. Instead, you slowly reach up, brushing the wet strands of his hair away from his face so you can get a better look at him. 

“Taehyung,” you gasp the moment you touch him. The moment you feel him. “Is this real? Are you really here? Is this not a dream?” 

His smile softens as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. “It’s real. I am here,” he says with a soft hum. “I’ve travelled far just to see you again.” 

You sink into his touch, and an incredulous laughter slips out of you when you hear his words. “That’s the part that is so hard to believe,” you say with a chuckle, drawing his own when you glance over his shoulder. “How—? I doubt that you used a boat to get here.” 

He gently shakes his head. “I have better ways,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. 

You almost laugh again, knowing what he means. Then an uneasy tightness grows in your chest as you imagine him swimming all the way here. Another thought crosses your mind when you remember about the cave where he was confined in. The cursed place where you first met. 

“You managed to escape the cave.” His gaze finds yours, surprised to know that you had somehow found out about his secret. 

“I learned about your kind,” you explain with a wry smile. “You wanted to keep me in that cave.” At your accusation, remorse fills his eyes. “I know what you—sirens—do with humans. Were you planning to…did you cast magic on me so you could…” 

Taehyung stops you from finishing your sentence by pressing his thumb on your lips. “My magic never worked on you,” he says, admitting his secret with a pained tone of voice. 

“I wanted to keep you. I’ve been confined in that cave for so long, I lost track of time. Days blended into weeks, months, years, perhaps decades to hundred years had passed since, and I was lonely,” he continues to admit. “But it was your magic which allured me, enchanted me until I was falling helpless in your presence.” 

You merely shake your head, refusing to believe him. Mostly the part where he said you have some kind of magic in you. 

“I was wrong to even think that I could keep you, to even think about holding you captive just to keep me company, when it meant for eternity,” he says with a resigned sigh. Then, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours, he gently whispers, “Forgive me.” 

“You’ve already been forgiven,” you admit to him with a soft voice, and relief washes over him. 

He looks at you again. “He left you here. Your friend.” There is a bite of bitterness and anger in his voice at the mention of your travel companion, Namjoon. And you cannot even blame him for it, knowing what Namjoon had done to him.

The image of Taehyung hurting, wounded by Namjoon’s arrows when he came to rescue you—who came barging into the cave, believing that he was protecting you from a monster—and left bleeding in that cave, alone, still haunts you to this day.  

“He has other responsibilities, while I was—” You stop yourself from continuing, not sure how to reveal about the child that you carried after the one night you spent with him. You continue instead to tell him about how Namjoon had to return to your home island to bring home the cure to your declining land, to marry his betrothed—just like how he was always meant to—and bring Elder Moira, the grand Healer, to meet your father. 

“I couldn’t travel with, so I stayed,” you continue, omitting the fact that you were too heavily pregnant to join Namjoon in his journey home. 

Biting your lips, you look up to see his eyes, only to find him smiling. 

“I know why you stayed,” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down to follow his hands as he lowers them to your covered torso, brushing at the slightly swollen flesh which has yet to recover after carrying the child inside you for nine whole months. 

“You knew,” you can barely say those words without getting your breath caught in your throat. 

“I was there with you the entire time you carried her in you, even if only in my spirit,” he says, his gaze finding yours again. “The curse that was holding me back in that cave was broken when we got together and our child was conceived. That’s how I knew.”  

As relief washes through you, your hands fall from his face to his shoulders, slowly moving lower to his bare chest. You react with a gasp at the touch of his skin, having been too enamoured by his presence and his alluring voice, you have failed to realise that he has been standing there with you, completely naked. Bare to nothing but his skin, instead of the bone-coloured tunic and soft, tattered pants that he wore when you first found him in that cave. 

Seeing him this way, and thinking about the night you spent with him in the cave, gets you feeling warm inside. Heat begins to coil in your belly, unfolding through your chest while drifting down south. As does your gaze, as it travels down his body, following the trail of lines of muscles on his chest, to the V-line below his toned torso, and then—

Sensing where your attention and your mind have drifted towards, Taehyung slips a hand to the nape of your neck. He gently brings your face closer to his, making you look up at him while lowering his head until his lips are touching yours. 

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, before he gives a deep, gentle kiss, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your everything away until it all fades into pure lust. 

As you return the kiss, you no longer remember where you are. The sea fades into the back of your mind. The sound of the steady waves chasing each other becomes white noise, drowned under the sound of your heartbeat. The uneasy feeling that has been plaguing you—all from having been stuck in a land which you cannot find it in you to call home—is no longer gripping at your chest, replaced by a sense of belonging which manifests under his touch. 

With your arms wrapped around his neck, your chest pressed against his, and your mouth being devoured in his kiss, you are lost in his warmth. You melt into his embrace as Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist, bending you backwards as he deepens the kiss. 

With your bodies moulded to one another, you can feel his arousal pressing down against your lower belly. It draws some intense heat rising inside you, warmth pulsing from between your legs as you rub your hips against his. 

Your mind grows so hazy with lust that you almost believe you are floating from the sensation of his kiss when you feel like you can no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It takes you a moment to realise that Taehyung has lifted you in his arms. You react with a gasp, breaking away from the kiss to tighten your hold around him to keep yourself from falling over. 

Yet he holds you steady in his arms, with his unwavering smile on his face as he carries you away from the jagged rocks, away from the rough waves and the rising tide, and from the wet sand that has been soiling the ends of your nightdress. He carries you across the rest of the way until he reaches the cliffs wall where he finds a flat slab of rock to lie you gently down on. 

Grinning wickedly, he crawls over you, pressing his lips gently on yours as he teases, “Should we take this time to reminisce our first night together?”  

You cannot help but laugh, but you also cannot stop the heat rising in your skin from having the chance to reminisce and repeat that night all over again. A do-over in a new place, where you can see the ocean of stars filling the wide sky above you instead of being in an enclosed cave with nothing but walls of rocks around you. 

Your laughter dies down as he once again captures your lips with his, distracting you from the work of his hands as he gently peels your nightdress and undergarments off of your skin. Soon, you are left just as bare as he is, naked as the day you were born, with the pulse of your desire building between your legs. 

Taehyung pulls away from the kiss, giving you the chance to breathe. Only to quickly steal your breath again when his hand reaches down, lifting your left thigh up to open your legs. Cold breeze touches your skin, and then his fingers find your center, pressing at your slick heat.  

“Taehyung,” you gasp at his touch. “Oh, heavens.” 

Pressing his lips on your bare shoulder, you feel his deep chuckle as he gently pushes a finger into your hot entrance. “You are so wet, beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, and your heart stutters at the sweet endearment that he had once used to call you when you were with him for the first time. For him to be using it again brings back the memory of you surrendering to your carnal desire. To him. 

“I’ve waited for so long for this,” he whispers, sounding desperate that his voice trembles. 

Running your hand up the back of his neck, you slip your fingers between the strands of his hair and whisper, “So do I.” 

Hearing this pleases him, and he quickly presses his lips on yours again, kissing you gently until you nearly melt to lax beneath him. At the sound of your muffled hum, he begins moving his hand, pushing and pulling his finger in and out of you, over and over again until your breath grows ragged and your body grows even hotter. With his thumb, he finds your clit, pressing on it as he adds another digit into your pulsing walls. 

“Oh!” you cry out when the pleasure comes to you in waves. Building up and rising over you, engulfing you until you feel like you are floating high in bliss. He continues until you feel it coming, your legs quaking around his hips and you begin raising your hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. 

While Taehyung is busy working his hand in your heat, his mouth begins to trail lower, down the column of your throat, to your shoulder, not stopping until he captures the pebbled tip of your breast in his mouth. Cries of pleasure keep slipping out of your mouth as he suckles, licks, and lightly bites on your hardened nipple. His hand remains steady, moving at a slow pace to bring your pleasure to its peak. Then he releases your nub with a pop, before moving to the other breast where he does the same. 

The pleasure feels too much, it almost feels like you are falling over the edge with nothing to hold on to. Your fingers slip out of his hair as he begins to move again, crawling his way down. You watch through hazy gaze as he trails kisses down your body, still relentless in his work of hand, and then—

“Oh, dear Gods!”

Your hips rise higher as Taehyung dips between your legs, burying his face so he can kiss your slick heat. With his fingers still moving inside you, he moves his thumb away and his mouth takes its place. 

“Taehyung—!” 

Once again, your hands find leverage by burying your fingers through the strands of his wet hair. With your grasp, you press his face deeper, while each steady rocking of your hips keeps pushing your center onto his mouth and his fingers deeper into you. 

It doesn’t take long before you finally unravel. The coil in your core snaps, and you are engulfed in the intense waves of your orgasm, with his fingers buried inside your heat still and his mouth latched around your throbbing clit. 

“That’s it, beautiful. I love it when you cum,” he murmurs against your heat, his lips still ghosting over your throbbing center, as if he has yet enough to drink your essence. “You taste so good,” he says between licks, “I’ve craved for this for so long.” 

You cry out once more when a smaller spasm rocks through your body at the touch of his lips on your nether region. Then you feel a void forming inside you when he pulls his fingers out of you. Still lost in bliss, you barely feel the touch of his wet lips pressing on your skin as he slowly crawls his way up, trailing kisses on your stomach—right across the stretch marks on your skin which has made you feel unconfident, as if he is worshipping them with his lips—and up to your heaving chest, brushing his lips from one breast to another, and continues his way up until his lips are on yours. 

He is biting and kissing you gently one second, and then devouring you like a beast, taking everything that you have to offer while letting you taste the heady scent of your release from his mouth and tongue. 

Your body heats up further when he begins touching the curves of your body with his big, wide hands. His gentle touch makes it seem as if he wants to memorise everything, even as he kneads at your breasts. 

Then his hands reach down, pulling your legs wide apart so he can settle in between. You are still sensitive after your first climax that the touch of his hard shaft makes you jolt beneath him. Yet you make no move to avoid him when he carefully aligns himself at your center. He moves the tip of his cock between your slit, back and forth, coating himself with your release, and then you feel him nudging at the entrance. 

“Can I—?” he asks with a strained voice, filled with need, yet still keeping himself back when he seems so unsure to proceed. 

“Yes,” you simply cry out before he can finish asking, already lifting your hips to welcome him home. 

At your final word, Taehyung pushes into you in one smooth stroke that stretches your walls to the point of pain. Yet the pain feels exquisite, so much so that you almost find yourself unravelling once more in the peak of pleasure. At the same time, it also feels as if you are gaining back a piece of your soul which you lost on the day you left him behind in that cave. 

You look up to him to say this, only to see him closing his eyes. The relief written on his face is so profound that it almost brings you to tears. Because you know that he is feeling the same way too about this moment; of having your bodies and souls joined into one. 

Taehyung opens his eyes and his forehead comes down to yours. For what seems to be the longest time, neither of you makes a move. You simply exist in this space together, your bodies joined, your breaths colliding with one another, and your hearts beating as one. As if you are bounded not by magic, but by fate. 

“________,” he whispers your name as he kisses your face, your nose, lips, and hair, down to your neck, and then returns to claim your lips again. “I’m so happy to be able to touch you again. To love you like this.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat, just as your words do. “Then make love to me,” you whisper breathlessly beyond the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you encourage him to move. “Show me how happy you are to see me again.” 

You rock your hips, and then he follows. His tortured moan seems as if it is being ripped out straight from the depths of his soul. There is a hint of tears forming in his eyes as he begins to move, thrusting deeply inside you, withdrawing and slamming back into you, over and over again. He hooks his arms under your legs, pulling them up higher as he starts driving further into you. 

Despite getting lost in his pleasure, Taehyung keeps his eyes on you the entire time. Just like how he did it back in that cursed cave, the way he wanted to keep the moment he had with you in his memories, he does the same thing as he rocks his hips against you, taking you over to the peak of pleasure. 

Soon, his forceful strokes trigger the familiar strain of your orgasm. He seems to feel you holding back, both of you wishing that you could let this continue just a bit longer. But the pleasure is too much, and he is close to falling over the edge as well to stop it. 

Reaching down, he touches your clit, pressing hard between his rapid thrusts and groans, “Come for me, beautiful. Let me see you fall apart for me.” 

With a cry, you allow yourself to fall into a spiral of pleasure, engulfed in the delectable waves of your release. Your body squeezes around his cock, and the pleasure unwinds, ripples going through your body in waves of pure ecstasy.

Thrusting deeply, Taehyung throws his head back, his eyes closed and his jaw tense as he joins you in his own release. The magnificent sight of him losing himself in passion immediately drives you right back to the edge again. And you are too spent to prevent it from happening. The strain from the intense lovemaking, done right here in the open space where the ocean breeze continues hitting your skin—now dampened with slickness and sweat—is beginning to wash over you. It has been so long since you ever felt this kind of pleasure, not since that night in the cave, not since him. 

Taehyung remains inside you for a moment longer. Giving you slow, gentle strokes as he helps you come down from your high. And then he slowly pulls out, bringing the drops of his release and yours in his exit. 

With a small smile, he crawls back down, carefully cleaning your center with his mouth and tongue. Once again, the ripples of pleasure rise from within. It feels subtle, barely a spasm, and ends just as he finishes cleaning you up. 

“I’m officially addicted to your taste, beautiful,” he whispers against your lips when he returns to your side, taking you in his arms so you can rest for a while. 

“Hmm, I think I’m officially addicted to everything about you. Knowing you, it seems like I’m risking my entire being to be with you,” you sleepily admit as you melt into his embrace with contentment. You smile when you feel his chest vibrating with his deep chuckle. 

“Do you regret it? Meeting me?” 

“Not a chance,” you quickly say to him. Especially not when you have earned something good from meeting him. And it’s not about the carnal pleasure he gives you. 

As if she knows that you are thinking about her, the sound of your baby’s cry echoes through the night, calling for you. 

The hitch in his breath is palpable, and you wonder what is going through his head right now at the sound of your child’s cry. His child. “May I see her next time?” he gently murmurs, closing his eyes as if he is listening to the sound of a singing tune. 

“You may. She is yours, after all.” Biting your lips, you cup his cheek with your palm and turn his face towards you. His eyes are filled with the same longing you first saw when he came up from the water, and you immediately understand. 

“You were here when she was born, weren’t you?” you ask him, “I felt you.” 

You did. The night your baby was born, you felt intense fear washing over you. Yet for some reason, you could almost hear him, serenading a tune from the open sea until you found your courage, and the sense of calmness came over you until she was born into the world. 

With an amused smile on his face, Taehyung nods. “I came at her call. She was singing for me right before she came into the world.” 

Your eyes grow wide. “She…sang?” 

Again, he nods. “But I heard nothing,” you murmur with a wonder.

His gaze softens as he recalls that night. “She needed me. She wanted to let me know that she was arriving,” he says, telling you a tale of your child’s birth from his point of view. “It was your magic that saved me, freed me from the curse which bound me to the cave, but it was her magic that gave me the power to find you both across the sea.” 

Tears form in your eyes as you picture him finding the strength to swim across the ocean just to find you, all because of the baby’s magic pulling him all the way here. 

As if he knows what you are thinking, Taehyung brushes his thumb across your cheek, wiping a stray tear away. “But I had no way of approaching you. It would have been too dangerous for me to make haste and come too close to humans.”

Nodding, you understand. Surely, it would have been hard to explain to the people of the tribe about his sudden appearance when there was no sight of a boat coming after Namjoon had left. The people of Parram Island are highly superstitious. Just like the elders from your tribe, they believe in curses and the evil side of sea monsters, and would have condemned Taehyung for crossing over the shoreline and stepping foot into their land knowing what he was. 

“Do you still fear humans?” 

A wry smile comes to his face. “Only some. Not all.” He sighs. “Not after I met the most beautiful star hidden among them.” He gives you a warm smile and your heart stutters. “But I still fear for what they would become once they find out how our child was conceived, and whose blood she was born from.” 

Your breath hitches. “I never thought of that—” 

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and then takes your hand to kiss the back of it. “One day, when it’s time for us to be together, she will sing for you to help you find your way to find me, or to let you know when it’s time for me to come back to you.” 

You find it hard to understand what he means, until it slowly dawns on you—

“You’re leaving.” 

He presses his lips, hating the crack in your voice. “I must. If we want to be together, and if we want to keep our child safe, then I must find the source of the curse.”  

Slowly, you push yourself up. “The curse?” 

He grimly nods. “The same curse that has been hurting the sea and your home island, plaguing the rest of my kind, and the one that is threatening our daughter’s future like it did when it imprisoned me in that cave,” he slowly explains, before he launches into explaining why he had always resented humans. He tells you how many years and decades ago, a mortal from a deserted island came into the sea to poison it with their magic, hurting sea creatures and turning them into cursed sea monsters like himself, and how the same magic that the mortal used had been the true cause of your people’s suffering all this time. 

“They’re all the same, cast by the same source, hidden somewhere in the wide sea,” he continues to explain, while you are having trouble letting all of this sink in. 

Why had none of the elders known about this? If they had known about the presence of sea monsters, then why had they never talked about the dark spell which had been the true cause of them?

You are still reeling in the revelations—the true secret behind your people’s hardships and Taehyung’s curse—that you don’t fight him as he pulls you up from the rock bed where you have been lying on and helps you put on your nightdress again. 

Once again, your baby’s cry echoes through the night. You can only wonder if her caretaker is having trouble calming her down or if she can somehow feel her father’s presence so close.   

“Her voice is so beautiful,” Taehyung murmurs lovingly, closing his eyes as he savours the last moments of his daughter’s cries.  

“She’s crying for her mother,” you bleakly reason with him, unable to find the right words—or any right at all—to stop him from going back into the sea. “I must go back.” 

Opening his eyes, Taehyung leans down to press his lips on yours, stealing a kiss that lingers for a moment too long for someone who is ready to depart into the night. “I will return for you. For our child. For Raena.” 

“How did you—” You pull back with a start. “How did you know her name?” 

He smiles. “She told me. I told you, she would sing to me at night. She told me everything,” he says, his gaze softening with so much love it overwhelms you. “She shared her feelings about being born into the world, so close to the sea but too far away from her father. She always sings about her beautiful mother, who feels lonely at night yet still shows her so much love.” 

He brushes your cheeks with his fingers and then presses his lips on your palm when you try to do the same. “She sang to me the day you gave her the name—Raena—so I would know what to call her when we finally meet. And I have always been singing to her since she came to the world, just like I have been singing for you since the day you left.” 

Tears continue to fall as you look back on those nights when you kept hearing those humming tunes. His voice. 

You remember the haunting tune you kept hearing during the nights spent in the sea to escape his cursed island. The serenading tune which broke your soul apart, to the point that there were moments that it had weakened you and nearly caused you to turn the boat’s sail back around just to return to his side again. It had gotten so bad at one point that Namjoon had to tie you against the side of the boat to stop you from trying to go back. Now, you imagine Taehyung singing in the cave all alone, serenading the tune of his heartbreak, calling your soul to return to him again. 

And then there were the nights when the tune began to change. No longer filled with despair, the serenading sound you heard reverberating through the rough waves had been filled with hope and love, helping you to heal and find comfort even as you were still drifting away in the wide, open sea. 

Had that been the moment when your baby was beginning to grow inside you? Was it during that time when Taehyung first felt his child’s presence in your belly? 

You question him all of this, which draws a small, sorrowful smile to his face. “My soul shattered when you ran away, and the moment I felt our child’s presence inside you”—his hand drifts down, touching your stomach from over your nightdress—”all of my broken pieces were put together again. I kept growing stronger the more she grew.” 

You cannot help it. Knowing that you have this invisible bind keeping you together even when you are apart breaks your heart and fills it with love at the same time. Rising on your toes, you wrap your arms around him and press your lips on his. 

He returns your kiss gently. You can feel him bearing his heart and soul, just as bare as his skin, drawing your sense of longing to have a future together. 

A future that seems bleak now as the dark forces hurting everything around you is still out there, somewhere. 

A sob threatens to escape as he slowly lets you go. You swallow it down to beg him, “Don’t go.” 

You keep your arms around him with the hope of keeping him from leaving. And yet, seeing the sight of his scales slowly appearing on his skin, you know that anything you say to make him stay would be futile. 

“I’m not going anywhere far. I’ll return when Raena sings for me, or when you call me back home in time of need,” he promises with a smile, just as his eyes turn golden glow. “I’ll return once the curse has been defeated, or whenever I feel you and Raena needing me here.”

But we need you here now, the small voice in your head speaks.  

“Tell me how to help,” you say to him, trying a different angle, only for him to shake his head.  

“Just stay where you are and be safe. Keep our child safe.” 

You open your mouth to say something—anything—to make him change his mind. Your heart is already breaking apart as you see him slowly stepping back. Back into the jagged rocks, back towards the water’s edge. 

Until Mira’s voice is heard from the top of the nearest valley of rocks, calling you. 

“________?” you hear her shout, and you quickly turn around to make sure that she isn’t near enough to see Taehyung. “Where are you? Raena needs you.” 

Her words, mixed with Raena’s cries, make you restless. It drowns the sound of the splashing water coming from behind you. 

Once you are sure that Mira is nowhere in sight, you turn back to Taehyung. 

“Taehyung, I—” 

You wish to share one final goodbye, yet he is no longer there. You are met with silence, with nothing else but the sounds of the crashing waves hitting the jagged rocks as your magnificent siren disappears into the dark sea.

The last thing you see is the sight of a tail, covered in viridescent scales illuminated by the moonlight, slinking into the rough sea as he sets off towards his new journey. A sorrowful tune of a song echoes through the night, as he serenades his goodbye and his promise to return. 

For you. 

For Raena.  

— ©Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[angrykittybarbarian]

A list of things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard:

!Beware of spoilers if you want to go into this game blind!

Word of advice: I truly think that it is better however to play this game fully informed or else you are in for a big shock.

The dialogue feels artificial.

What do I mean by that? From what I have observed the dialogue between Rook and the companions is unnatural. This expresses itself in lack of emotional expression or too much of the same in an unfitting situation. But for the most part it's the first resulting in the companions never being truly mad at Rook nor expressing such feelings towards them whatsoever. Instrad the dialogue seems to function like a simplified explanation of things and events around you to make sure you understand properly and don't get fancy ideas like interpreting a situation through your own personal lense and take away an understanding the devs did not explicitely want you to have.

The game has strange priorities in terms of exposition.

The game has companions and NPCs either state the obvious in a slow and clear pronounciation or doesn't give necessary background info at all.

For instance it has the Veiljumpers state that Arlathan Forest is dangerous as multiple members of their organization are being carried away and injured, as if the player wouldn't conclude this fact by, I don't know, engaging with the game? At the same time it doesn't provide who these Veiljumpers are exactly and how they know of Solas and the true character of the Evanuris as these facts are not common knowledge among the people of Thedas.

Rook and Varric seem to have an established history but we never get to see how they met and what they did together. We don't get to build our relationship with Varric as Rook like we did as Hawke or the Inquisitor. We have to pretend it's magically there.

Which brings me to my next point: the game doesn't care for established lore and replaces it with a nonsensical version

Said Veiljumpers, including Bellara, consist almost entirely of dalish elves who have an extensive lore surrounding their pantheon, religious ohilosophies and principles. Their gods are the Evanuris, also called the creators. Elgar'nan is the Allfather in this pantheon while Ghilan'nain is the Mother of Halla in dalish tradition. This should have lead to conflict with Rook who is fighting these very gods. Instead the elves seem the accept the fact without second thought.

The same goes for Davrin who somehow identifies Ghilan'nain as the Mother of all Monsters while it remains unclear from where he takes his information.

On the flip side human Andrastianism doesn't seem to play a role at all. The game does not explore what rise of the elven gods means for the belief in The Maker. The human companions don't comment on it either and the templars have seemingly vanished.

The Antaam are waging an expansionist war without command from the Arishok now. Despite the Qun being a highly disciplined doctrine that values firmly set roles and chain of command above all else, the entire qunari military arm is somehow able to act without order and war amongst themselves.

But wait, there is a word for Qunari who behave like this already established. Tal Vashoth! So the game is basically claiming the entire qunari military went rogue.

The Antivan Crows, hitmen for hire, who buy kids from the slave market to raise them to be obedient killers and use trorture to reach this goal and are willing to kill said members if they go rogue or mess up a job, are the good guys now who protect Antiva's streets from harm.

Ferelden and Orlais got swallowed by the blight and whoever rules Orlais got assassinated by the Venatori anyway which renders the entire questline of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts pointless.

And appearantly Morrigan slept around a lot now and Shaper Valta from the Decent dlc has become a statue in Kal Sharok?

The devs lied about previous choices not mattering

It becomes clear that the devs may have had a certain world state in mind when writing the story. This becomes clear when Harding talks about the Inquisition's spymaster being Charter but also mentioning Leliana. But we all know Leliana was the spymaster. So if the position fell to Charter there must have happened something that forced Leliana out of the position, like being named Divine for instance?

This impression is further cemented by the attitude of the First Warden towards the Inquisitor. It was stated that the First Warden had no high opinion of the Inquisitor. But why? They never met before. Could it be that the First Warden could be holding a grudge because of a specific decision made at Adamant, possibly the banishment of the wardens by the Inquisitor?

This is not even complete as I have not finished the game yet. But lord, this is a lot already in the beginning. At this point a miracle needs to happen to to render the points above meaningless but it isn't going to happen.

Part 2

[artbyblastweave]

Still playing Skyrim. And I’m interested to report that the game is actually better than I remember, on balance. But I’m kind of fascinated by what’s going on with Lydia, mechanically and narratively.

Lydia is the first follower who gets shoved in your face just by virtue of following the main quest. There are others you can pick up earlier, but not without finishing errands (for Faendal and Sven), by forking up a pretty big chunk of change for the early game by hiring Janessa, or by going out of your way in some other manner. If you’re completely new to the game and you’re just powering through the main story as it’s presented, she’s the first option for a follower that the game highlights for you in giant blinking neon lights. And as a quest reward, she’s mechanically kind of a godsend at that point in the story; a doubling of carry capacity, an excellent meat shield and distraction, a way to extract utility from weapons and armor you don’t want to use yourself. More subjectively she provides the impression of a stalwart ally or companion in what can be a very lonely worldspace to exist in. There’s very little reason not to take her with you, and once you have her, the majority of companions being equal, there’s very little reason to get rid of her until she stops level scaling.

Despite the mechanical utility Lydia provides at a crucial point, and the resultant likelyhood that you’ll haul her along for the ride, she’s only a couple steps up from the companion cube. She has no specific, non-fungible impact on the narrative beyond demonstrating Jarl Balgruuf’s favor. Her deferral to you is automatic; if someone is actively paying her a salary to help you defile graves, cut deals with every deity on the continent and invade the afterlife, it sure as hell isn’t you. It isn’t clear what her gig under Balgruuf was before she was assigned to you. She has no personal narrative. She has no personal side quest. One of her biggest inklings of personality is when she expresses vague dissatisfaction with being treated as a pack mule, but then she does it anyway.  She’s party to world-shaking events and political upheavals, but she’s present purely in her capacity as your appendix, so reality simply treats her as your plus-one. 

She’ll block doors you’re trying to get through, and she’ll get mad at you if you push her out of the way. She’ll charge into battle or set off traps while you’re trying to sneak. She’ll microaggress you with stock Nord dialogue while pulverizing your enemies, a plurality of whom are also Nords. She’ll distract bosses long enough to buy you breathing room for a healing spell or a potion. You’ll kill her by accident with an ill-timed area-of-effect spell, roll your eyes, and, ultimately, probably reload your save. Because she might only be a couple steps up from a companion cube, but the whole gag with the companion cube is how ridiculously low the threshold is for the audience to get genuinely attached to something in a video game. A thin character invites apophenia. Behaviors that are purely downstream of dev thoughtlessness will still imply character traits if taken at Watsonian Face Value. In this case, inexplicable undying loyalty, reserved comments on impressive landmarks, and comical stoicism in the face of some of the weirdest events it’s conceptually possible to encounter.  So here’s to weird, underbaked companions in Bethesda Games, and everything we can project onto the void they provide. And Here’s to that related genus of character- units in squad-based tactics or management-sim games with permadeath mechanics who last long enough and accumulate enough equipment, skill points, etc. that they become your Special Little Guy despite otherwise lacking any deliberate character traits.

[cece693]

Top Priority

pairing: hints of male reader x will graham, hints of hannibal lecter x male reader and hints of hannigram tags: reader is kinda of hannibal's bodyguard, similar to chyron, will falls for reader, reader rejects him knowing hannibal's interest, conflict, prob will be a 2nd part

You do not remember how you first came under Hannibal's quiet, meticulously orchestrated influence. The event was there, crystallized in your memory, but you try not to revisit it often—the basic details were that Hannibal offered a hand when you had been backed into a corner.

Months turned into years, and by now, you serve the dual role of companion and protector in his lavish Baltimore home. Outsiders—neighbors, guests, and even the pretentious socialite acquaintances Hannibal occasionally entertains—whisper about you in hush-hush tones. They assume you are a distant relative from Europe or a longtime friend who has taken up residence under Hannibal’s gracious hospitality. No one suspects there is a debt—one that arose from him saving you so many years ago. Hannibal never forced you to be his protector, but he never made a noise of complain.

You assume it had been his plan all along—his help, the one he rarely offers, is always calculated and only done to serve his own agenda. Perhaps there was some small mercy in his offer—some genuine sliver of kindness—but it is overshadowed by the quiet, methodical way he has woven himself into your life. You came under his roof of your own volition, yes, but with no real alternatives. He never asked you outright to guard his home, never demanded you learn the intricacies of self-defense or the art of combat; he simply made opportunities available. Polite suggestions, guided resources—always a soft nudge rather than a push.

Your loyalty to him is fluid, evolving. Not quite devotion—more like devotion’s stern cousin, obligation. Although at times, in the hush of your own thoughts, you can’t decide if you’re more addicted to Hannibal’s tranquil, cultivated presence than you are bound by any debt.

Life at the Lecter residence might, at a glance, seem serene. You keep rooms on the second floor in a private wing at Hannibal’s insistence; he is gracious in all things, ensuring your space is comfortable, well-appointed. You enjoy a sense of calm—predictable, orchestrated, steeped in the good doctor’s love for structure. You never forget, however, that you are here to protect him. That he is not the type to need overt protection only proves how unusual your arrangement is.

Then Hannibal meets Will Graham.

It begins almost innocently. One evening, Hannibal tells you he’s invited a gifted FBI consultant for dinner—someone with a unique empathy disorder. You can’t quite decipher the flicker in Hannibal’s gaze, as if this Will Graham is both puzzle and prey. Still, you prepare, setting the table meticulously, making certain everything is perfect by the time Will arrives.

When Will steps through the front door and shakes your hand, your breath almost catches in your throat. He’s scruffy, subdued, but there’s a palpable tension to him that you sense as carefully as if you were reading the lines on your palm. He returns your greeting with polite awkwardness, uncertain if you are some close friend of Dr. Lecter or merely hired help. “I’m Will,” he mumbles, voice soft like an apology.

You don’t reveal your status, only responding, “I’m…well, I help Dr. Lecter around here.”

Hannibal, from behind you, smiles and adds, “Yes, he’s quite indispensable.”

You notice the undertone. You are his—a prized, if discreet, possession.

The conversation at dinner flows with surprising ease. Will attempts to navigate small talk with Hannibal, but your presence draws his gaze more than once. As the evening lengthens, Hannibal retreats into lofty discussions of psychology, madness, and classical music. You ask the right questions to encourage Will to share his insights.

Will, in turn, finds himself unexpectedly drawn to you, acknowledging your quiet, observant nature. He seems to intuit you’re more than a houseguest, despite your guarded composure. Over the next few weeks, Will visits again and again for 'non-therapy' discussions and dinners. And each time, he seeks you out in the intervals before Hannibal joins him. Your company, without the heightened tension Hannibal’s unwavering stare provokes, is soothing to him.

He asks about your life. You avoid specifics. You’ve learned well from Hannibal how to dance around direct answers. Yet, you grow fond of Will’s curiosity, his dryness, his flawed humanness. He asks how you met Hannibal. You offer a half-truth about receiving help in a desperate situation. Will’s eyes flicker with empathy, but he doesn’t pry—aware that secrets abound in the good doctor’s home.

In Hannibal’s presence, you catch glimmers of something new. He watches Will with a clinical interest that borders on fascination, while Will’s glance roams to you with unspoken longing that seems to catch him off-guard. The dynamic between the three of you becomes a precarious triangle.

The closer Will grows to you, the more you sense Hannibal’s silent disapproval—even if it is impeccably veiled. Hannibal does not see you as a rival or a threat in a conventional sense; you suspect his interest in Will is not mere academic curiosity but a deeper, stirring fascination. An appetite you have learned all too well. One evening, after Will departs, Hannibal corners you in the study. The firelight illuminates his face, casting dramatic shadows on the walls.

“He likes you,” Hannibal states, voice devoid of accusation. Just observation.

You dip your head, half in respect, half in admission. “Yes. He does. Should I stop him from coming to me?”

He smiles with polite indulgence. “That will not be necessary. I merely wish to know if his feelings are reciprocated.”

It feels like a trap. You’re well-versed in Hannibal’s methods. To lie outright is unwise. To reveal everything is equally so. You choose a measured truth. “I won’t deny that I care for him in some capacity. But my loyalty remains here—with you.”

Hannibal’s lips curl in a small, satisfied smile. “Of course it does.”

Soon enough, Will’s attempts to form a closer bond with you crescendo. He voices it indirectly—asking if you ever want to get out of Baltimore for a weekend, away from Dr. Lecter’s refined dinners and silent stares. His concern is subtle, but you perceive it: he wants to save you from something he cannot fully name or comprehend.

A quiet longing awakens in you. Will is so unlike Hannibal—chaotic, genuine, stumbling. You see he needs a type of closeness that Hannibal cannot provide, not in the same human way. It pulls at you, the possibility of a life free from Hannibal’s orchestrations and unsaid expectations.

But if you leave, if you let yourself care for Will more than you serve Hannibal, the entire, delicate structure collapses. Your debt to Hannibal cannot be cast aside so easily; he saved your life, and your gratitude is not mere lip service. You know, too, that Hannibal’s interest in Will runs deeper each day. It is the first time you have seen him exhibit such unwavering fascination with someone else.

It culminates on an evening where Will lingers behind, after a dinner, waiting in the foyer. He claims he wants to speak with you. You sense Hannibal has retreated purposefully, giving Will the space to confront you.

“I—” Will falters, his gaze flicking around, as though your presence alone is too much. “Are you safe here?” he finally asks, voice hoarse.

Your heart constricts. He sees too much. Perhaps not the full truth, but enough to worry. You try for a small, reassuring smile. “Yes. Dr. Lecter has been good to me.” It’s both truth and evasion.

He takes a step forward, frustration tense in his posture. “I can’t help but feel like you’re…like you’re stuck in a situation you can’t get out of.”

For a fraction of a moment, your resolve shakes. You imagine telling him everything. But the memory of Hannibal’s subtle smile, his unwavering confidence, stops you. You see, too, the bond forming between Hannibal and Will. There’s an intensity there that Will hasn’t noticed yet, something dark and intimate. And if Hannibal has chosen Will, you cannot stand in the way. You owe your life to Hannibal. That is the top line, the unstoppable factor.

You shake your head, stepping back. “I'm here in my own volition, Will,” you say quietly, forcing as much conviction as you can into the words.

And in a way, it’s true. You chose this, when Hannibal presented you with two paths: continue stumbling through a precarious life that might end in a dark alley, or accept his graceful offer of protection and guidance. It was more freedom than you had ever been shown—yet it came with a leash. One you sometimes can’t decide if you truly feel around your throat or if it’s just your imagination.

Will’s eyes track yours, and you can see the doubt flickering there. “If you say so,” he mutters, voice subdued, “but every time I come here, I can’t shake this feeling that you’d be gone the second you got the chance.”

A ripple of discomfort passes through you. The truth, if you dared utter it, is complicated: you owe Hannibal, yes, but there is also something about him that comforts you, a shadow in which you can hide. Will’s concern draws you back into a glaring light you’re not sure you want to face.

You attempt a reassuring smile, though you suspect it falls flat. “I’m not trying to run from anything or anyone. Hannibal has given me a home, and I…I—”

You catch yourself, realizing that finishing that thought—I owe him my life—would only spur more questions, more concern.

Will takes another halting step closer, voice just above a whisper, as though he fears Hannibal might hear. “If you ever change your mind, if you ever need somewhere else to go—”

“Will.” Your tone is gentle but firm, the way you might address a frightened animal. You recognize that tension in him: the wariness, the trembling potential for flight. He’s all frayed edges and empathy, searing himself on your unspoken wounds. You want to protect him from that. “I appreciate it. I do. But don’t worry about me.”

He exhales, shoulders slumping in defeat. The rustle of his coat sleeve is loud in the hush of Hannibal’s house. “Fine. But I can’t turn off my worries. That’s…that’s not how I work.”

A heartbeat of silence passes between you. You meet his gaze, and an inexplicable pang of sadness—longing—flares in your chest. It’s more than you’ve allowed yourself to feel in years.

For a moment, you almost speak the truth: that Hannibal gave you another chance at life, that you can’t even contemplate betraying him, no matter the cost to your own happiness. But speaking those words would mean jeopardizing all you’ve built—and, if you’re honest, all Will has here too. Hannibal’s fascination has taken root deep in Will’s mind. You see it in the way he returns to Hannibal’s office, how he lingers in conversation with him. There’s a gravitational pull that binds them.

You step back, head bowing slightly, and manage the best parting words you can muster. “Please, trust me when I say I’m as safe as I can be.”

Will opens his mouth to speak, perhaps to protest, but you see something flicker in his periphery. You don’t have to glance over your shoulder to know: Hannibal stands in the hallway beyond the foyer, silent and watchful. He forces a curt nod, clearing his throat. “Right. Then, I suppose I’ll be going.”

Your chest aches, but you maintain your composure, nodding in return. “Drive safe.” you offer softly.

He brushes past you, pausing just for the briefest moment as though waiting for you to speak—waiting for you to say something that will break the chains he imagines binding you. When you remain silent, he sighs and steps out into the night.

A heavy hush falls in the foyer. The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on. You keep your gaze on the closed door, not wanting to turn around, not wanting to confront the expression you know Hannibal wears. After a quiet stretch that seems to last forever, his voice resonates with gentle amusement. “Will is a fascinating man, is he not?”

You don’t move. “He is,” you manage, your voice sounding thin to your own ears.

Hannibal hums—a soft, musical note of approval. “He cares about you,” he says, with no hint of jealousy. It’s merely another observation, another piece of psychological tapestry he’s weaving.

Your response lodges in your throat, but you manage, “Yes. He does.”

Hannibal crosses the threshold behind you, his measured steps resonating lightly on the polished floor. A moment later, his hand rests with gentle possession on your shoulder. He does not squeeze or hurt, but the weight of it is a reminder of your place, your role.

“You did well,” he murmurs. “I trust he won’t press you further.”

You close your eyes, letting your head dip imperceptibly. Another wave of guilt washes through you—guilt for betraying Will’s concern and a strange guilt for pleasing Hannibal. “He won’t,” you say, each syllable costing you a measure of self-acceptance.

The doctor’s hand falls away. “Good.” His voice is warm, tinged with satisfaction. “Come. I’ve brewed a pot of tea. Let us not waste a perfectly lovely evening.”

He turns, gliding away toward the kitchen, and you follow out of habit, your steps echoing behind him. You keep your head down. You know you chose this—accepted Hannibal’s salvation and everything that followed. Yet Will’s gaze lingers in your memory, leaving you unable to shake the feeling that you’ve just closed the door on a different kind of rescue, one that might have freed you in ways Hannibal never intended.

[aixeko]

──────‹𝟹 SINNERS SAVAGERY ༄ Ѽ✧

IF I'M YOUR SALVATION, WELCOME TO HELL.

2024 Halloween Event | Art credit: Efferwescent on Twitter

𖤐 SINNERS SAVAGERY | or ERISETOBER  is an event that is a mix of Kinktober, Whumptober and Flufftober in a nutshell SMUT, ANGST & FLUFF with Halloween aspects. All prompts are made by me but some of the ones that inspired me are whumptober ofc, and this list. 

𖤐 ONLY HONKAI STAR RAIL AND GENSHIN WOMEN For this year

𖤐 This will be my first time doing the October prompts stuff + I have another event going on so bare with me haha.

𖤐 !! WEEK 1 starts 6 to 13 !! !! WEEK 2 starts 13 to 19 !! !! WEEK 3 starts 20 to 26 !! !! WEEK 4 starts 27 to 31 !!

WEEK 1 | MONSTER AU | | ONESHOT

| Film | TILL DEATH DO US PART | Starring | Kafka as alien symbiote “Venom” x Host!Reader  | Synopsis | A livelihood ripped away by the greed of humankind and faced with impending doom, an alien symbiote by the name of "Kafka" entered your life and made you her host. Originally, the monstrous being harbored one goal: to destroy everything planet Earth had to offer, but plans changed upon meeting you and thus, with her power, you both do whatever it takes to save the planet. Loathing was all that was bestowed toward the extraterrestrial parasitic, but as time passes, a long-lost feeling resurfaces, one that hasn't manifested since your heartbreak; of course, you would rather be brutally killed than confess your endearment. Unbeknownst to you, the woman has suspected you of such intimacy and, with her incredible adaptability to the complex human emotion, has a ploy to make you profess those three special words.

| Film | YOUR LORDSHIP | Starring | Yelan as Leviathan x Mortal!Reader | Synopsis |  When the tempestuous waves crash against the shore and the sky turns a foreboding grey, human shells cower in fear as the mighty lord of the seas, Leviathan, awakens from the darkest pit of the deep, seeking for a human companion to aid her lonely voyage.

WEEK 2 | MYTHOLOGICAL AU | | ONESHOT

| Film | BEYOND THE IMAGINABLE | Starring | Clorinde as Medusa x Blind!Reader | Synopsis | Despised and misunderstood by the world, she was a victim of a scandalous man's wrongdoing, unfairly punished by heaven despite her innocence. During one fortunate day, the woman whose heart had turned to stone melt under the accursed spell of love, wholly captivated by a blind mortal who fell in love with her for who she truly was; even without sight, the virtuous human saw the very essence of her, the beauty within her soul.

| Film | OFFERING OF PURITY | Starring | Raiden Ei as Hades x Mortal!Reader | Synopsis | The townsfolk tell tales of a legend that speaks of how, once in a century, the moon would adorn itself in a deep crimson hue and illuminate its shade onto the world. Under its wrathful light, the god of hell emerges to wreak havoc, and the only way to banish such evil is to offer a youthful virgin mortal; only then will humankind live in another century of prosperity and peace.

WEEK 3 | ANIMATRONICS AU | | SMUTSHOT

| Film | FIVE NIGHTS AT STAR RAIL | Starring | Kafka, Himeko, Blackswan, and Acheron as the FNAF Classic Animatronics x Night-guard!Reader | Synopsis | A newspaper arrives at your doorstep, featuring a job opening for a night guard position at the famous Star Rail Pizzeria. Struggling financially, you quickly seize the golden opportunity. The job's only requirement is 5 nights of work, and if you succeed, you'll be hired as an official employee; what could possibly go wrong?

WEEK 4 | SLASHER/SERIAL KILLER AU

| Film | MINDFUCK | Starring | Slasher!Arlecchino x Investigative-Psychologist!Reader | Synopsis | Demons linger where shadows play; in silence, hearts betray, whispers echo, and desires catch fire in the haunting depths of the night. With every kiss, a scythe may cut, in which terror envelops one's gut; together they dance on the edge of fate, finding beauty in a love that is too late. So let the night weave its spell, for in the dark they know so well, and though demons are whispering fright, in their twilight, the lights are ignited.

[moeitsu]

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore part 2 :)

Wow! You guys really appreciated my first post about Logan's backstory/lore and I'm grateful for all of your feedback!! Here's the link to part 1 if you're interested :)

I'm so happy to see all the love he's getting, its actually surreal to be a part of this fandom again and seeing all the new Wolverine content! The fanart and fanfics are literally my life-source rn. You don't even wanna know what my tiktok saved folder looks like....

You guys asked for more so here is part 2! It's not as organized as the first part, apologies. I'm using both the movies and comics here. Some stuff isn't confirmed but generally accepted in the mcu.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Wolverine first appeared in The Incredible Hulk #180. He was supposed to be a mutated human/animal but the idea was later scrapped.

He was approx. 197 years old when he died in the movie 'Logan'

There's multiple different deaths in the comics but I wont get into that.

Logan is 5'3"- 5'5" (short king)

He has black hair and blue eyes

Before the adamantium, he weighed 196lbs (88kg). After the binding he was 300lbs (136kg)

His body is poisoned by the adamantium metal as it breaks down over time. Requiring him to be in a constant state of regeneration, which begins to slow down as he ages.

Without the metal he probably could have lived a lot longer.

Logan has a fear of water, or rather, drowning. It’s one of the only times can’t regenerate. It would cause his death.

The Weapon X program is also responsible for this fear since he was submerged under water for a long period of time for the binding.

The metal in his body also makes him so heavy it would be very difficult for him to swim.

In the comics Logan temporarily loses his healing factor due to a virus created by Dr. Abraham Cornelius. (Weapon X scientist) This event leaves him vulnerable for the first time in his life, forcing him to confront the reality of his mortality.

His healing ability greatly affects his mental state. Logan can quickly recover from physical damage, but he still feels all the pain. His ability to cope and endure despite the overwhelming suffering is central to his character.

Logan has an acute sense of smell. He can track people and objects across a great distance. It’s so precise that he can identify people’s emotional states such as fear or anger. Even when someone is lying.

Logan was sensitive, shy, and timid as a child.

The first person he ever killed was his biological father.

After killing his father he ran away from home with his friend Rose. (a hired companion to help care for him when he was young). Unfortunately, Logan accidently killed her during a fight.

Logan speaks several languages, due to his extensive life and travels. He speaks English, Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Chinese, Cheyenne and Lakota.

He’s actually an incredibly smart guy, don’t let him fool you.

Despite his love for alcohol, Logan’s healing factor makes it nearly impossible for him to get drunk.

Logan brews his own beer in the Origins comics. (we love a domestic husband)

On Logan’s birthday every year, Sabretooth seeks him out just to beat him up as a twisted "gift." Sabretooth calls this tradition "birthday beatings."

Spider-Man and Wolverine have teamed up a few times in the comics and they are a hilarious pair.

Logan's "berserker rage" is not just a result of his animalistic mutant powers. But stems from his deep psychological trauma. This side of him only emerges when he is pushed into extreme emotional or physical stress.

At one point before he escaped the Weapon X experiment, he was hired to kill Charles Xavier.

Logan's wife Itsu and son Daken were allegedly killed by the Winter Soldier, however it was later revealed that his son actually lived and had been consumed by hatred for his father. Logan was forced to kill his own son before he could cause more harm.

This act is one of, if not the most painful moment in Logan’s life, as it represents his ultimate failure as a father.

Logan blames himself for Jean Grey’s death.

He lived a majority of his life without his memories. Having no idea who he actually is.

Despite his involvement with the X-Men and his many close relationships he often feels like an outsider. Like he doesn’t belong anywhere. He isolates himself because loneliness is a familiar feeling.

Logan prefers the solitude and sanctity of nature. He loves the outdoors and has a lot of respect for the natural world. Often retreating into the wild for his own peace.

In one comic he baby sits Luke Cage and Jessica Jones daughter. Danielle Cage.

He can be quite playful at times with the younger mutants. For example, building a snowman with Jubilee.

Logan dreams of a normal life. He dreams of having a family with a wife and children and leaving the violence behind.

[ghoulishlygrey]

The New Mrs. Dekarios Chapter One

Chapter One

Find chapter two here <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale Dekarios x Fem!reader/Tav

18+ MDNI

Tags: weddings, tailor!astarion, bride!reader, oral sex, cunnilingus, wedding fluff, praise kink, soft Gale, sorcerer tav

Read it on Ao3

Enjoy!

Words: 3484

���── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The Waterdeep breeze tickled your face and sent your veil from out behind you, gracefully floating on the wind. You had just stepped out from the tower, you were wearing your dream wedding dress. You felt so beautiful, the dress fit you like a glove and accentuated all your best features. You stared down the aisle and your eyes met your fiancé’s. He looked so handsome in his formal wear, a deep purple with golden accents around the sleeve and collar. He was misty-eyed as his gaze fell to you, a deep sigh resonating in his chest as he brought a hand up to swipe at his eyes. Shadowheart and Karlach were already at the end, standing off to the left. They looked wonderful in the outfits you had picked out for them, though Karlach looked a tad uncomfortable to be wearing something so fancy. You were glad to have fixed her internal engine, and were glad to have freed Shadowheart from her toxic faith. They both smiled at you from across the venue, sharing the same sentiments. Alfira and some hired bards play a lovely tune in the corner, waiting for the bride, you, to show up. 

Lae’zel sat in the audience, not wanting to take place in such an event, she even used the word *istik* when asked about it. But she was here nonetheless, and that you were grateful for. Astarion unfortunately couldn’t be there, as your wedding took place during the day, albeit sunset. “I’ll show up to the reception, darling.” He assured you, putting another pin in your, at the time, too-big dress. Astarion had tailored it for you, his own little contribution to your big day and his own special way of being there for you. Withers stood in the middle of everyone, big book in hand and a blank expression on his decaying face. Classic. The teiflings you had slain the goblin leaders for made up the bulk of the audience, along with the remaining companions you picked up along the way. Wyll stood next to Gale, as he was presented with the honor of being best man. Tara, Gale’s tressym, sat on a pillow next to Wyll, two rings tied with twine around her collar. 

As you began to walk down the aisle, you thought about every event that led up to this moment. What if you had never been abducted? What if you had never walked past his malfunctioning portal? You would never know, and would never want to find out. After everything you had endured, it seemed to be all worth it in the end. Worth it for this moment. 

You finally reach the end of the aisle, handing off your bouquet to Karlach. It was composed of night orchids, a beautiful gift from Shadowheart that you just had to incorporate in your big day. She was one of your best friends, after all. 

Gale takes your now free hands in his, fingers running over your knuckles. “You’re stunning.” He rasps, a familiar tone to his voice that stirs something within you. 

“Thank you,” You reply, moving your hands to interlock your fingers with his, “You look very handsome.” And you meant it. You had never seen him wear something so extravagant and sophisticated, used to him wearing either light armor or his classic robes. He looked delicious, you thought, and if nobody else was here you’d drag his ass straight back into the tower and tear the clothes from his body, relishing in each button and buckle.

The fantasy doesn’t last long as you ground yourself and remember where you are. There was plenty of time for those shenanigans later.  

“Let’s begin.” Withers says, tone as formal as ever. 

“Welcome to all. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of,” He says your name, “and Gale in holy matrimony.” 

Withers prattles on with his speech, all the while you’re locked in eye contact with Gale. You’ve always loved his puppy dog eyes, big brown spheres that looked at you like you were the only girl in the world, a gaze that held you in such high regard. You give him a warm smile, one he returns with a slight chuckle, he was just so damn happy. 

“Do you,” Withers says your name,”Take Gale to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

This was it, the moment you had been waiting for since the first words you had spoken to this handsome man. “I do.” 

“And do you, Gale, take,” He says your name, “to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Gale says, words spilling from his mouth the second Withers was done with the question. He was clearly excited, a fact that made you blush. 

“Now, the vows.” Withers grabs your attention, looking at you blankly but expectantly. You clear your throat, getting ready to address not only your lovely fiancé, but your massive audience too. Karlach hands digs in her suit jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and hands it to you. You nod in thanks. 

You unfold the paper, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, you were nervous; you weren’t used to giving big speeches. 

“Gale, my love,” you start, taking one of his hands while keeping the other one busy with holding the paper, “Ever since I pulled you out of that portal, I have loved you. I have loved you through our adventures, through our hardships, through everything we have faced. Even when you absorbed my rare magic items, which I still don’t know the logistics of, by the way-” That gets a chuckle from the crowd and Gale. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, a reaction that spurred you on to continue your speech, “-I have loved you.” You feel the tears in your own eyes now, you could just feel the love radiating from your lover as he stares at you, listening intently. 

“My love for you will never falter, like a star; when I am long gone my love for you will live on through our poetry, through the friendships we’ve made, and finally it will live through you. I have not regretted a second of our journey together, and if it takes an illithid tadpole for us to be together, so be it. I know we can tackle anything that’s thrown our way, we’ve been doing an amazing job already. So whatever comes next for us, I’m glad it’s with you.”

You hand the paper back to Karlach, turning back to Gale and giving him your full attention. To start, he says your name, voice like honey as he does. “Before you I was lost, wandering through life without purpose. I never knew what real love was, what it could be like, what it could feel like. When I first met you, not only was I taken by your beauty but your kindness. You could’ve easily walked past that malfunctioning portal but you didn’t. Instead you calmed it with your talent in magic, and pulled me out. If not for you I would be lost, you are the leading light in my life, and you have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. You have continued to take my breath away with your courage, valor, and talent and I will love you until my last breath. I shall say it one more time for emphasis; I love you.”

“Tara, if you will.” Withers signals to the tressym, who gets up from her purple silk pillow to rub against Gale’s leg. He picks her up, holding her out so you can take the rings from around her collar. “Thank you,” Gale says into her fur before setting her down, Tara seems to nod before heading back to her pillow, settling in to watch the rest of the ceremony. 

You hand your ring to Gale, holding out your left hand for him. He delicately takes your hand, sliding the ring over your ring finger, a perfect fit. It was your dream ring, everything about it was everything you ever wanted; everything you dreamt about since you were a little girl. 

The ring you got Gale was also beautiful, it was silver with embedded amethyst. Purple, his favorite color. 

You meet his gaze again as he takes your hands in his. You never knew a gaze could hold so much love and admiration until you met Gale, until you had this relationship. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride…” Withers looks like he very much wants to leave, or that he couldn’t care less, you couldn’t decide and you yourself didn’t care.

Gale gently moves his hand to cup your face, and your arms go to his shoulders. He pulls you closer before delivering a chaste kiss, sweet and simple. You return in kind, slotting your lips over his. 

The kiss is over as quickly as it started. Everyone in the audience has risen to their feet, applauding you as you take your new husband's hand and head down the aisle and back towards the tower. As you did, you sneak a glance over to your lover who to your surprise is already staring at you. “What?” You ask him, cheeks glowing with a pink blush.

“I’m looking at the most beautiful woman in the world, the new Mrs. Dekarios.” He beams at you, and you beam right back. Soon, you come upon the tower and you reach a hand out to open the door. 

“Ah, ah, ah, what do you think you’re doing?” Gale asks, putting his hand over yours and stopping you. “I’m opening the door? We have to get ready for the reception.” You glanced back at your guests, all of which were mingling, retrieving drinks from the various barrels and crates, and dancing to the music. 

“We do this right or not at all.” Gale says, and before you can question what he means he’s scooping you up into his arms earning a surprised squeal from you. “Gale-!” You say, arms automatically linking behind his head and around his shoulders. 

He gives you a wicked smile before kicking open the door and walking through. “There! Now we’ve done it properly.” He holds you in his arms for a moment longer, taking a moment to gaze upon your face. You take the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. The kiss starts out slow, so slow that Gale is able to delicately set you down without breaking it. However, it picks up quickly when Gale slides his tongue across your lips, requesting access. You allow it, opening your mouth for him, allowing your tongues to clash together. 

You feel his hands skate up your back and your arms around his shoulder tighten, pulling him as close as possible. What he does next makes you gasp into his mouth; he begins to undo the corseted back of your dress, hands expertly undoing your laces. You know exactly what he has in mind. “We can’t.” You say, barely breaking the kiss to get the words out before diving back in. There were so many people just beyond the front door, all of which were waiting on you. Gale just smiles against your lips before continuing his unlacing. He halts the kiss when he’s done, leaning back to get another look at you. “I need you.” He says, voice dripping with lust. And boy, did you want him, too. 

“But the others-” you start, turning your head to gesture towards the curtained front window.

“Can wait.” He cuts you off, leaning back in to make a trail down your neck with his mouth. You moan when he finds your pulse point, sucking lightly.

“Wouldn’t this be bad luck?” You chuckle, hands carding through his hair as he kisses back up your neck and towards your lips. 

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck to last us a lifetime. The world owes us.” He says, pulling back from your face to look into your eyes. His were twinkling, pupils blown wide in want. 

Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. The sun was setting steadily outside, the reception started when night overtook the sky. You wagered you had approximately twenty minutes of free time before people came looking for you. Your eyes drift back to his, and it’s like he’s almost reading your mind. “We have to be quick,” You start and you can see the excitement hit his face as it lights up. You slide out of your dress completely left in only your undergarments. He takes a second to take you in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.  

“I will ravish you properly later, my love, as you deserve. But for now I just need you, and you may have me in any way you desire.” 

As much as you’d love to be full of him, sheathed to the hilt on his cock, you wanted to make this time about him, wanted to give him pleasure. 

You sink to your knees in front of him and the shock on his face makes you chuckle. 

“What?” You ask, hands making themselves busy with the buttons on his trousers. His hands fall over yours, stilling your movements. 

“You don’t have to do that, this should be about us, not just me.” 

“We have all night to make it about us but for now shut up and let me ‘ravish you.’” You quote him to himself and he laughs, removing his hands from yours and letting you continue your unbuttoning. 

“I love you.” He says simply, gazing down at you with that familiar look, the look that made your knees weak and heart full. “I know.” You tease, finally pulling his trousers down his legs. 

His erection is already fully present, restrained behind the fabric of his underwear. Your mouth instantly starts to water, just the thought of taking him with your mouth stirs something in your core. 

You push the waistband of his boxers down and his cock springs free. You grip the base, earning a shudder from your husband. 

“So perfect,” He coos, hand going to your head and massaging gently. 

You just smirk up at him, making eye contact as you take the head in your mouth, tongue swirling around it and lapping up the salty precum. 

Gale’s head fell back with a groan, and his hand made a slight pressure against your scalp, a silent asking of you to take him further. 

You let him go entirely after that, if only for a moment. 

“So impatient.” You scolded light-heartedly.

He chuckles, “You’re the one who said we have to be quick.” 

You hum in response, going back to the task at hand. This time you do take him further, letting him in inch by inch. When you reach as far as you can, you wrap your hand around what you cannot, making sure he was covered entirely. 

You felt your eyes flutter shut as you worked him over, tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft. You hollow your cheeks, creating a suction that makes him gasp. 

“I fo-forgot how good you were at this.” He smiles down at you, the hand in your hair petting you. “Such a good girl.”

Something about his praise ignites something in you, shooting a wave of pleasure down to your core. 

It spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, bobbing your head and opening your throat as his head hits the back of it. You suppress a gag, your saliva dripping from your mouth and down his shaft. 

He grunts and moans at every little movement you pull, whispering sweet little praises all the while. 

“So good, such a perfect mouth on a perfect girl.” He manages to get the sentence out through moans and grunts, hand on your head tangling in your hair, following each movement. 

It was just too much, the pressure between your legs grew with each word and sound he made. You reach down, hand disappearing below the waistband of your panties. Your fingers find your sensitive bud, making small circles around it and you moan against his cock. 

Gale catches what you’re doing and it sends a steady blush across his face. “You look so good doing that.” 

You whine, hand in your waistband moving faster with each breath you take. Soon you can feel his resolve faltering above you, his hips shaking and breath heavy. 

“I’m going to-”

“Do it.” You momentarily slide from his cock to look up at him before continuing your languid motions. 

With a few more head bobs, he’s there, releasing into your mouth. You take it in, lapping up every drop as it shoots in your mouth. Above you, he’s moaning, free hand over his mouth to keep himself from alerting everyone outside to your activities. 

With a little pop, you pull off his shaft, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I saw what you were doing down there, did you finish?” He asks, helping you up before tucking himself back into his trousers. “No,” You were honest with him, you didn’t have enough time to finish yourself off, but that was fine, that moment was supposed to be about him anyways. But when you look at Gale, he almost looks offended.

“Well, we can’t have that!” He says grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch in the living room. You gasp when he (gently) pushes you down onto the cushions and kneels before you. 

“My lady,” He starts, grabbing one of your hands, “Allow me.” 

You part your legs for him, allowing access to your clothed cunt. “If you insist.” You laugh, allowing his hand to slip from yours as he pushes your underwear to the side.

Even though he’s seen it a thousand times by now, he always is in such awe when he gets to see your sex, gazing at it and you like he was lost in the desert and your pussy was water. 

He wastes no time diving in, licking one broad swipe up your folds. You mewl, back arching off the couch at the contact. He brings a hand to your lower stomach, keeping you firmly grounded.

“I have barely touched you yet you’re soaked, you truly are magic.” He says, momentarily watching you from between your legs. To him, you were magic itself. Somebody that he worshiped, someone that he loved. You knew all this, and returned it ten fold. 

He turns his attention back to your aching hole, tongue dipping in as he makes another stripe. He starts to lap at your hole, tongue moving in and out at a steady pace. You moan, long and loud and it causes him to pop up once again. “We must be quiet, dearest. We don’t want them hearing us.” He chuckles, face glistening with your juices. 

You laugh, making a show of you covering your mouth with your hand and beckoning him to continue. He does, diving back into your pussy with renewed vigor, lips coming to encircle your clit and sucking gently. You bite your hand, choking back a cry of ecstasy as he makes you see stars with his tongue alone. You gasp when he introduces his fingers, plunging one and then two into you. 

He moves in and out of you rhythmically and you find yourself rutting against his face, moaning whenever his nose rubbed against your clit. You were chasing your high, relishing in the feeling of the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his fingers. His fingers are stretching you out so deliciously you can’t help the tears that spring from your eyes. You curse mentally, you’d have to redo your makeup before you went to your reception. 

A couple more plunges and you’re there, cumming around his fingers with a muffled scream. He laps at your hole more, catching every last drop of your orgasm. You collapse into the cushions, panting slightly as he moves to lay next to you. 

“Now *that* was magic.” You sigh, head looking to the side to catch a glimpse of Gale who is already staring at you. 

“Everything we do together is magic, my love.” He sits up, and you catch another glimpse of his beard, dripping with your slick. You blush, adjusting your underwear back to its proper position. 

He stands, “Alright, up you get.” He holds his hands out to you, “We have a reception to attend.” You glance out the window, goddammit, you were already running behind schedule. 

“Race you to the top of the tower.” You say, picking up your dress from its state on the floor and taking position at the base of the stairs.

“Oh, you’re on.” He says, running past you and up the stairs.

“I didn’t say ‘go!’”

You run after him, laughing the whole way.  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

note: Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my work don't forget to follow me here for updates and more fics.

[silvernightabyss]

“Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” - Chapter 1

Yandere Hero x gn!Reader

Isekai, who among us hasn't dreamed of it? Well, get it signed. Try not to throw yourself into the arms of the protagonist as soon as you see him. Remember, you may know everything about him, but he's seeing you for the first time. The thoughts of the protagonist come as a gift.

How many references do you want? Yes.

word count: 2.9k Prologue/Chapter 1

It's been two weeks since you've been in the fantasy world of the novel. Adapting has been difficult, even though you've inherited fragmentary memories of the original owner of the body. The unfamiliar people, surroundings, etiquette, and architecture were very disconcerting. To your shame, you spent your first night sobbing quietly in your room in the temple. The only thing you were probably lucky about was that you weren't a member of the church, just a hired sewist. Given the fact that the high priest was the one who raped Evan, you had no desire to see the man, whose name was Donavan. Make sure you memorize that shithead's name and if you ever summon a demon, sell his soul.

In fact, you hadn't seen him or Evan since you'd been in this world. And while the first pleased you, the second disappointed you. As you learned by asking the servants, Evan and his team were on a quest to destroy one of the demon lords living in a poisonous swamp. This happened at the beginning of the first volume, as you may recall. And what the author thought to add the location of the poison swamp, in all games it was always the most annoying part. Probably because the author was an insufferable evil bastard who drew inspiration from the most annoying things created by human hands. A sudden wave of anger almost ripped the thin fabric in your hands in half. Then you stroked it quickly, as if to comfort it, removing the creases that had formed.

Poor Evan was going to get poisoned by some nasty animal and come back to the temple with a fever for a week. Sad, of course, but nothing that with your level of power you could change. The day after the isekai, you tried a little magic. Find some chakra, mana core, nen or something. But no. All you got was to feel like an idiot for half an hour, huffing and puffing like a pissed-off hedgehog. No transmigrator buffs. No annoying system or divine companion. Nothing. That made you completely powerless to help Evan. It was frustrating, angry, and made you want to bang your head against the wall. Your modern upbringing couldn't allow you to ignore someone else's misfortune. If you worked in the kitchen, you would surely spit in the soups and drinks that are made especially for the High Priest. Unfortunately, those are the only petty thoughts of revenge you could afford.

Part of you just wanted to leave, good thing sewing skills were embedded in your subcortex, and you could find work somewhere else, not in a place where you knew one hero suffered every day. You wince. Thinking about it like that made you feel bad about yourself. It was vile to think of leaving. As the only person with knowledge of the situation, you had to stay and try to help in any way you could. Even if your attempts would be fruitless in the end.

You spent the next two hours diligently embroidering new robes and fixing old ones where the fabric was too worn. Unpleasant thoughts of varying degrees of intrusiveness kept popping into your head, but you studiously ignored them. Their content was something like “To be or not to be”, only your option was “To stay or not to stay”.

After you finished your work, you picked up a pile of robes and went to turn them in to the storekeeper. The temple was beautiful, even to your unassuming eye. The entire continent worshiped the Creator who made the world and the gods they created to help look after the people. In fact, you remembered from the book that the mythology of Evan's world was very interesting. Incredibly written and detailed lore describing events from ancient times to the present day. Some of the knowledge you had already forgotten, but for example you remembered that the Irin continent, where the main story took place, was named after the god's favorite angel.

The central temple of the capital was dedicated to the Creator. Numerous frescoes on the ceiling depicted the creation of the world and the races that inhabited it. For the first week, you walked with your head up, and more than once you were on the verge of falling. The tall, graceful steles also drew attention to the care with which the flowers and leaves were molded, as if they were real and the spell had just turned them to stone a moment ago. The garden wasn't to be forgotten, you'd only been there once, but it was already completely engraved in your heart. Score one for staying. Overall to summarize the temple was beautiful, the priests friendly. So why the hell is this place of paradise run by this goddamn pervert! The Creator's eyes are blown out of their heads to let a man like that in charge of their temple? Unbearable.

Your boots thudded loudly and angrily on the marble floor, and you continued on your way. The servants and priests you encountered preferred to avoid you in a wide arc, sensing in their gut the dark and heavy aura you gave off. With the power you put into opening the door, you could shred a mountain to pieces with a single blow. Yeah, like that bald guy, that's how powerful you were at that moment. The storekeeper didn't even lift his head from the paper he was looking at. Inwardly, you marveled a little at his restraint; you yourself would have jumped on the spot if you had been rushed in with such a bang. More calmly you approached the not-young man whose most prominent feature was his giant-hooked nose.

“I brought the robes, where should I put them?” Your voice rumbles through the room.

The man nodded vaguely toward a neighboring room filled with baskets full of robes. The servants had to wash and dry the robes before handing them back to the priests. Why the freshly sewn robes had to be washed was a big question, but not of your mind. You were about to leave when you were stopped by the storekeeper.

“Go to the infirmary and get the medicine for the hero. His chambers are in the east wing of the temple on the third floor.”

During your entire stay in the room, the storekeeper didn't even look at you, and after he gave you the order, he started acting as if you weren't even here. Well, the main thing is that he didn't yell. You shrugged your shoulders and left the room.

The stone-face test was successfully passed, the die rolled on a twenty! In fact, your heart was racing, and your palms were unpleasantly sweaty. Did all this mean you would be able to see Evan? You didn't even know he'd returned. With an effort of will, you suppressed the joyful scream that burst from your mouth. You're going to see the protagonist of this damn novel. Almost dancing, you hurried toward the infirmary.

The nurse, whose name was Ellen, gave you your medication as soon as she heard that you had come from the storekeeper. The girl explained that because of the upcoming festival dedicated to the Creator, all the servants were busy preparing for the sacred rituals. Mentally, you tsked. That no servant could spare time for the precious hero of the Church? Nonsense, of course, but nonsense that plays right into your hands. Having memorized what to give and in what dosage, you headed for the eastern wing.

The corridors became more and more empty with every turn, as if you were entering a forbidden zone. The atmosphere was oppressive and growing colder with each step. A creak sounded very close to you, made you jump on the spot and freeze. It was scary to turn around. You didn't want to see the ghost behind you. On bending legs, you turned around and ….Mmm No, that's just your overactive imagination working for the bread. There was nothing behind you. Nothing in the front, either. Cussing under your breath, you continued walking. Isekai had definitely taken a toll on your nerves. Shame they hadn't invented valerian here yet.

The doors to Evan's chambers were carved, decorated with ornaments of flowers. You knocked hesitantly, and when there was no answer, you knocked again, but louder. Maybe he was asleep? What was to be done? The nurse had said the medication had to be timed to avoid making him feel worse. The doorknob in your hand felt like a ticket to heaven or hell. Praying in your mind to who you didn't know, you pushed it down. With a quiet click, the door opened. Like a mouse about to steal cheese, you quietly slipped through the gap and closed the door behind you. You hoped Evan wasn't a cat that would eat you for entering without permission.

The main hero's chambers were green, very green, not because the walls and furniture were that color, but because of the dozens or even hundreds of pots with various plants. As a half-elf, Evan had the ability to understand and talk to plants. For a long time in the novel, they were his only friends, listening to all his sorrows. Sighing sadly, you headed for the door behind, which was presumably the bedroom.

Evan lay on the bed, resting peacefully, deep in sleep. The blanket lay in a bunched pile at the half elf's feet. His complexion was very pale with blue veins clearly visible, there were deep bruises under his eyes, and his breathing was intermittent and heavy. Despite this, he was still more handsome than the sleeping beauty herself. If you thought the comparison was inappropriate, just never mind. On tiptoe, you moved closer and leaned over the sleeping hero. Handsome. You especially liked the way his leafy green hair curled around his pointy ears. You wanted to catch one strand between your fingers and then watch it curl back. You weren't weird. Not at all.

You put the tray of medicine on the bedside table with a little more clatter than you'd like, but Evan didn't wake up, thankfully. The half elf's forehead was scalding hot, and you jerked your hand away quickly. Looking around, you spotted a basin of water on the other side of the room and quickly soaked the rag you'd grabbed from the tray before placing it on Evan's forehead. That's better. Satisfied, you smiled to yourself.

The question of how to medicate the unconscious hero was still open. You frankly didn't want to wake him up. You remembered from the book that Evan's condition was extremely serious, and he didn't come to his senses at all. Rest is the best medicine. It's better if you quietly do your business and leave, and he won't even know you're in his chambers. Shit, that sounded like some kind of thief.

Pass the cure with a kiss? You shook your head frantically as soon as the thought crossed your mind. God, you'd read too many romance novels. Conscience and morality would never allow you to violate Evan's personal boundaries like that, considering how they'd already been violated by the high priest. Besides, it would be despicable to do that to any person.

But then what were you supposed to do? You'd just have to pour the drugs into Evan's mouth and hope he didn't choke. That's about what you did, luckily without becoming a hero killer. Now comes the most difficult and embarrassing part. Ellen gave you an ointment to rub into the half elf's chest. The medical reasons behind this you almost completely missed, and you only had to take on faith the necessity of this action. Evan wouldn't like it if someone he didn't know undressed him and started performing medical procedures on him. Right? So something had to be done about it.

One of the scraps of fabric Ellen put on the tray caught your eye. It's perfect. You'll pretend to be a butler, covering your eyes with a strip of fabric so as not to embarrass your mistress. Master. You mean Evan. Quickly and tightly tying the band, you found yourself in darkness. With suddenly trembling hands you fumbled for the collar of the half elf's shirt and from it, you easily reached the buttons. Normally you would have easily done it in less than a minute, but now deprived of sight and incredibly embarrassed; each of your actions was stretched to the point of impossibility. After an eternity according to your internal clock, you finally managed this undeniably difficult task.

So it was time for the ointment, which was as green as you remembered and smelled like bumps or something else freshly herbal. Incredibly embarrassed by your own actions, you rubbed the ointment in as fast as you could without lingering on any part of Evan's skin. What's a stupid trail? A relieved exhale escaped you when this torture finally stopped. Ellen had said the ointment should absorb very quickly, literally in less than a minute, and in your head you drummed your fingers on your thigh, ticking off the seconds. When the time was up, you hoped for it towards the end you began to speed up the count, with all care you covered Evan with the blanket. The nurse had said the fever would go down very quickly, which meant the half elf could get cold.

And so it was done! Now you could leave with a clear conscience. You pulled the bandage off your eyes, blinked in the light, and hurriedly picked up the tray, leaving the room. Before you passed through the doorway, you took one last look at Evan, still sleeping peacefully. Handsome even when he's sick. Nodding affirmatively at that thought, you headed back to the infirmary to return the medication to the nurse.

***

Evan woke up when someone started undoing the buttons of his sleeping shirt. His first thought was that it was Donavan, so the only thing he could do was lie there and not fight back. Was he sick of his powerlessness? So sick that he wanted to open his chest with his hands and rip out his damn heart, which sometimes allowed itself to hope for the best. The half elf left his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the high priest's ugly face, twisted with desire. He could still visualize it all too well, anyway. A convulsion shot through his arm and he clawed his fingers into the sheets, his nails almost tearing the fabric.

Halfway through the unbuttoning, Evan suddenly realized that the fingers that sometimes grazed his skin were different from Donovan's skinny, knotted fingers, the pads of which were covered with calluses. In addition, a strange chill spread from his forehead down his body. Was it the damp cloth? It was only because of the two factors above that he actually opened his eyes and saw you. The snort that almost came out of his mouth, he held back with an incredible effort of will. A blindfold? It was ridiculous, even more ridiculous than the mix of slime deer and owl he'd met in the swamp. Ridiculous but oddly cute. The mere thought that he might be uncomfortable being stared at half-naked had never occurred to anyone. With already great interest and friendliness, he began to consider your appearance.

When you reached for the green jar, he recognized it as an antipyretic. A spark of realization lit him up, and Evan bit his lip. He was ready for the feeling of a thousand little insects crawling under his skin, but your touch didn't disgust him. Evan blinked perplexedly when he realized this. Short and medically detached, your touch was devoid of any lust. Noticing your fingers trembling, Evan concluded that at the very least you were awkward. Later his guess was confirmed by your tapping on your thigh, too uneven and often out of rhythm to be a sign of boredom or impatience. The blanket you covered him with forced him to smile slightly. A display of simple human caring that he had always been deprived of. The thought made him feel unpleasantly empty inside.

When your fingers reached for the bandage, Evan closed his eyes as quickly as possible, not even knowing why. He didn't have an answer to that question. Listening to the quiet rustling of the fabric of your clothes and the tinkling of the medicine on the tray made his heart feel lighter for some reason. It was as if you were not a randomly sent servant, but someone close to him who genuinely cared about him.

The creak of the door alerted him to your departure, but with his keen hearing, he could still hear your footsteps outside his chambers. As soon as they were gone, Evan sat up on the bed, causing the cloth on his forehead to fall down. Silently, he twirled it in his hands. His head felt strangely empty. Perhaps the only question that bothered him now was; who are you? Meeting you had irrevocably changed something in him, as if he had been a broken clock just now starting to run.

Evan rolled back over, sinking into the soft mattress, and returned the cloth to his forehead. The next time you two meet, once he's recovered enough to walk, he'll be sure to ask your name. With that thought, his exhausted mind took to its realm of Morpheus.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[authorforrosie]

Book: Her

Pairing: Rosé x female reader

Warning: fluffiness and mention of hard career

Words:867

Quote: „I would not wish any companion in the world but you." William Shakespeare.

In the overfilled city of Los Angeles, nestled amidst rolling hills, loud noises, many crowds across the streets, a lot of architecture and blooming meadows, there resided two souls destined by the stars to meet and entwine their fates. You who has the name Y/N, a gifted photographer who was hired by the vogue with an eye that saw the world's beauty in every shadow and light, and Rosé Park, a K-Pop singer whose voice could summon tears from even the hardest hearts. A member of one of the most famous girl groups called blackpink.

The future of the blonde dyed woman unknown since she recently just debuted with her first solo album, many tears shed which reminded of water filled oceans. The amount of love like no other written in every lyric, heartbreaking lyrics that broke hearts with each beautiful vocals.

A weight of having to be perfect still weighted on Rosé's shoulders. Since she had a reputation of the perfect singer in the k-pop industry as a blackpink member. It left her more vulnerable as a solo artists with an unknown music journey in the future. Each blackpink member is trying to break out of the "perfect" reputation. Jennie even released a rap about the management holding them back from achieving big things in the music industry in a ad.

The tale begins one fateful award event on a certain night, when the event was alive with the sounds of the loud conversation of celebrities. Lights glowed like stars fallen to earth, and the scent of perfumes and blooming adrenaline filled the air. You, ever the observer of life's fleeting moments, wandered through the crowd with your camera, capturing the joyous faces and tender celebrities as only humans being scenes that unfolded before your eyes

As night descended, the event reached its crescendo with the arrival of Rosé, the golden voice loved by many on stage with a baby pink mic in her hand. Her voice, rich with emotions while sweet like honey, filled the air with melodies that spoke of love, being lost, and longing. You, drawn by the haunting beauty of her song, found yourself standing at the edge of the crowd, your heart thrumming in time with the music. You could feel the emotions she poured in her song's through your veins.

Your eyes met across the sea of faces, and in that moment, a spark ignited. Rosé's voice faltered as he gazed upon you, a vision of grace and elegance, your camera poised like an artist's brush while she continued to sing, but her heart now sang for you alone.

After Rosé's performance, she sought out the mysterious photographer. Rosé found you siting next at another celebrity. You looked absolutely breathtaking in her opinions which made her not wanting to lose an opportunity to have a conversation with you.

"Hi pretty, you look lonely. You caught my eyes while I was performing. A beautiful camera by the way." said Rosé while her australian accent could be heard, " your presence has inspire my soul. I am but a humble singer, yet I feel compelled to capture the essence of the beauty in song, as thou dost capture the world in thine art."

Your cheeks flushed with the warmth of her words, replied, "Good darling, your voice has moved me like no other. I am Y/N, a seeker of truth and beauty through the lens of my camera. Might I have the honor of capturing the likeness, that I may remember this night forever?"

Rosé was grateful that she had some self-control otherwise she would've flushed red cheeks by your reply. Your words took her breath literally away.

Thus began your journey of love, each discovering the depths of the other's soul through your shared passion for art. Both of you spent countless hours together, exploring the event later even a little bit of LA and surrounding crowds, capturing the world's wonders in photograph and song.

Rosé would sing as you photographed, her melodies weaving through the air like golden threads, binding your hearts ever closer. You, in turn, would find new inspiration in Rosé's music, your photographs revealing the hidden beauty that her voice evoked.

Your love for each other blossomed, unfettered by the trials and tribulations that life often brings. Both of you were kindred spirits, united by your art and your love for one another. Your bond with Rosé grew ever stronger, a testament to the power of love to transcend the boundaries of time and space.

Years passed, your love story became legendary in the music industry. The music industry was forever changed by both of your presence, and the memory of both of yours love endured, passed down through generations of singers as a symbol of the enduring power of art and the human spirit.

And so, in the twilight of your lives, you and Rosé, your hearts still entwined, looked back upon your journey together with gratitude and joy. For you both had found in each other a love that transcended the ordinary, a love that was truly extraordinary.

[khari1]

🔹 Meet Reeamor – Your Ultimate Companion Finder! 🔹

Looking for a companion to share your thoughts, enjoy an event, or travel with? Reeamor is here! 💙✨ Hire a friend, meet new people, and experience real connections—without the pressure of dating. Safe, secure, and easy to use!

[mumms-the-word]

BG3 Wedding Season Tag Game

Inspired by @lewdisescariot's post about Spring/Summer being wedding season, I present to you an unofficial Wedding Season Tag Game!

It's time to create your special day. Your favorite companion or NPC has proposed to your OC, or your OC proposed to them, and now it's time to plan and throw a wedding! The first list is about the details, while the second zeroes in on specific moments!

Tag a friend and challenge them to answer some (or all) of the prompts on this list. There are 31 prompts, so you can also use the prompts as a daily headcanon/art/fic challenge. Use the prompts however you like! If you want to share your stuff with a shared tag, you can use the tag #bg3weddingseason

✨Details✨

Wedding, or something else? - What do the characters think about weddings or marriages? If not a wedding, would they acknowledge their relationship in a different kind of ceremony?

Proposal - Who proposed to whom? Were there rings or other gifts involved?

Bachlor/Bachelorette parties? - Do the characters get a bachelor(ette) party before the big day? Does anything crazy happen?

Pre-Ceremony Events - Are there any special events, ceremonies, rituals, or preparations the couple must do before the wedding day? Ritual cleansing, asking a parent for the character's hand, mehndi/henna painting, little pre-ceremony games or challenges, etc?

Formal or informal affair? - Is the wedding elaborate and grand, or simple and sweet? Is it a tenday-long series of parties or is it a quick vow exchange in front of Withers?

Venue - Where is the ceremony and/or reception? Inside? Outside?

Timing - What time of year are they getting married? What time of day?

Traditions - What traditions are involved in the ceremony/reception? Is there a mix of traditions from either partner?

Decor - What kind of notable decor is there at the venue? Do they have something like an arch, a carpet aisle, fairy lights in the trees, or other elaborate decorations? Did they choose to decorate at all?

Flowers - What flowers or other natural elements do they have as part of their decoration, if any? Are these flowers significant?

Bouquet or no bouquet? - Does someone carry a bouquet, or do they choose to carry something else? Or do they walk down the aisle with nothing at all?

Music - Is there music at the ceremony or the reception? What kind of music? Do they hire an orchestra, band, or half-decent bard to serenade them?

Outfits - What is the married couple going to wear? Is there special significance in the outfit choices, colors, jewelry, etc?

Rings - What do their rings look like, if they choose to exchange any?

Vows and Unity Ceremonies - Does the couple exchange vows? Do they complete any kind of "unity" ceremony, like handfasting, planting a tree together, etc?

Wedding Party - Are there bridesmaids, groomsmen, attendants, special witnesses? Are they dressed a certain way or positioned in a special spot?

Going Down the Aisle - Does anyone escort the character walking down the aisle? Do they go alone?

I Now Pronounce You... - Do your characters change their last names, keep their last names, arrange for a specific kind of name? For example, "Mr. and Mr. Dekarios" or "Lord and Lady Ravengard-Cliffgate"?

Guests - Who else is there? Are there any special details about how the guests are arranged, what they are wearing, or what they are doing?

Food - What kind of food and drink is being served at the reception? Is there a lush feast or simple fare? Is there a wedding cake or some other kind of traditional wedding food?

Dancing - Is there any dancing? Elegant waltzes or all-out party-hard tavern music dance parties?

Ending the Night - How does the reception end? Is there a big send-off, or does everyone quietly fade out as the night turns into dawn?

Honeymoon - Does the couple take a honeymoon anywhere?

✨Specific Moments✨

The Night Before - Write about the night before the wedding. Are your characters nervous? Excited? Do they see their partner or keep away?

Getting Ready - Who helps your characters get ready? Are there any sweet, funny, bittersweet, or adorable moments that happen?

The First Look - Write about the moment when your married couple sees each other in their wedding outfits for the first time.

Ceremony - Write the scene where they exchange vows, complete a unity ceremony, exchange rings, or etc.

First Dance - Does your couple have a first dance? What is that like for them?

Private Moments - Every couple needs a private moment away from the big day. When does your couple escape the festivities, before, during, or after the ceremony/reception, to have a private, quiet (or perhaps not so quiet) moment?

Reception - Does anything specific happen at the reception? Drama, a sweet moment with a parent or other companions, cake-smashing, games, a surprise?

First Night, Morning After - Write a specific moment or detail about their first night together as a wedded couple, and/or what it is like for them to wake up the next morning as a wedded couple.

Different cultures around the world have different wedding expectations, ceremonies, events, and so forth, so if you find that this list doesn't let you explore those ideas, feel free to adjust the prompts to suit you and your characters more!

Enjoy and have fun!

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, me again :) As I am re-reading your stories while stuck at home with the flu, I was thinking of another possible story: Reader is Rebecca's friend and a high-end prostitute. She has seen and experienced some rough things and is not trusting around men at all. Elijah is in love with her, but she will only accept him as a client (just sex for money, no kissing, no tenderness). He does everything in his power to change her mind.

Thanks, ❤️. Hope you have a lovely weekend!

Safe

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

In a world where trust is hard to come by, you've learned to keep your guard up, especially around men. But when Elijah enters your life, he's determined to break through your defenses, venturing into a realm of passion, pain, and the search for something real.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 I always adore your requests! Hope you are feeling better ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, white knight Elijah, lots of fluff and affection, Rebekah being badass...

PLEASE NOTE: this has descriptions of sexual assault, trauma & violence... don't read if these things trigger you ♡♡♡

Elijah considered himself a man of experience. He had seen and done everything in his many centuries. He was no stranger to the ways of the world, to the ways of power, to the ways of pleasure.

He watched society evolve and change in many ways, but some things always stayed the same, even after one thousand years.

Elijah knew what he was to women, the way they would fawn over him, the way they would throw themselves at him. It had never bothered him, he used this privilege to disarm potential threats, to protect those he loves.

Never in his long years had he considered paying for sex, he was not the kind of man that needed to pay for a woman's affections. He was a gentleman, he treated women with respect, courted them, loved them.

But then, there was you.

He would meet you in hotels, only the most luxurious, expensive, exclusive ones, where no questions were asked, and privacy was guaranteed.

You were always punctual and dressed to the nines, always with the most stunning outfits, the finest dresses, the highest heels. Your hair was always perfectly styled, your makeup expertly done. 

You were far more put together than he could ever be. It made him want to believe that it was all just for him, but he knew better than that. You looked expensive because you were expensive.

The first time was a complete whim, a moment of weakness. He met you through his sister, at an event she was hosting. He tried to get you in his bed the old fashioned way, with his charm, and it almost worked. He was not used to rejection. But, he got the impression that it was not personal, for you it was just business.

So, he took a chance and hired you for the night. You were not expecting it, he could tell, but you quickly hid it behind a mask of professionalism.

The sex was... Immaculate. He would be a fool to say anything else. In his many centuries of living, he had experienced his fair share of pleasures. He was an excellent lover, he knew it, he prided himself in being one, but you were the first woman he had been with, where he felt like the student.

He would never forget the image of you on your knees before him, with your red lips wrapped around his cock, the sight would stay burned into his retinas for eternity.

You were the perfect companion, always the right thing to say, the right thing to do. You would only give, and never take, leaving him wanting more.

After your first meeting, he became a regular, every Friday at 8pm at the Roosevelt Hotel.

It had become his routine, you would arrive dressed in something different each time, more breathtaking than the last. And each Friday, you would repeat the same motions; meet him at the bar, have a drink, make small talk, before inevitably returning to his hotel room.

You never looked him in the eyes when you rode him, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs trembling and breasts bouncing, the very vision of sin.

You were all fire and passion, never letting your heart get involved, as was your work's rule. Always just fucking, no kissing, no affection, never sharing anything that had the smallest ounce of intimacy.

There was only once where he would have thought he saw an ounce of vulnerability in your eyes.

On that particular Friday, Elijah had arranged for the room to have flowers and champagne and a wonderful spread for dinner. When you arrived, he greeted you the same way he always did, taking you in his arms, feeling the weight of you pressed against him. When he released you from the embrace, he turned to lead you to the couch, but found your cheeks tinged with pink and tears running down your face.

That was new.

You composed yourself almost immediately, a smile returning to your beautiful face. The moment passed. You apologized, saying the roses were so lovely, you felt a bit sentimental for a moment.

He wanted to call it out, but he was not a fool; you were crying because you were moved. He wondered if anyone had treated you with sincerity before. But he held his tongue, only responding that he was glad you liked them.

You drew him in like a moth to a flame. Your beauty, your intelligence, your wit, it all appealed to him, but there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

He wasn't sure what it was, why you affected him so. Perhaps it was the mystery, the fact that he could never really get close to you, not like he wanted.

You were the perfect escort, always attentive, always beautiful, always ready to please. But you were also distant, aloof. You didn't want any affection from him, or to speak of romance, of love.

Your emotional unavailability felt like a mirror, reflecting his own loneliness, his own fear of intimacy.

He wondered how somebody so young, with so little years behind them, could harbor such pain behind their eyes.

Perhaps that is what drew him to you, the possibility that you could understand him, the darkness that lived inside him, the burden of immortality, the isolation that came with it.

He wanted to know you, not just the performance you put on for him, but what lies underneath the façade.

But you didn't allow him to. You kept him at arm's length, never letting him get too close.

He tried to be respectful, he tried not to push you, but he found himself wanting more, wanting things he shouldn't.

You were a good girl, you gave him what he paid for, nothing more. But he wanted more, he wanted you. He wanted to take you out on a date, to spoil you, to make you feel loved, to show you the world.

But he knew that would never happen. You were a professional, and he was just another client. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but hope.

He would keep coming back, and maybe one day, you would let him in. Maybe one day, he would finally get to show you the truth of his feelings.

Maybe one day, you would fall in love with him, too.

You were on another date with a new client, you always met them in public first, making sure they were who they claimed to be before you headed to the hotel.

You were always cautious, using protection, staying safe, trusting your instincts.

You tried your best not to judge your clients, you didn't know why they sought you out instead of dating. For some, it was simply convenience, for others, it was something more sinister. You worked hard to keep the latter far away from you.

This client was a bit shy, he wouldn't meet your gaze or answer any of your questions. It was like pulling teeth. But he didn't have that "off" vibe. Maybe he was just uncomfortable around women and that's why he sought you out.

He seemed to loosen up after a few drinks, his smile becoming more confident, his laugh deepening. His hands would occasionally drift toward your thigh as he leaned in close to talk.

"I rented the penthouse for tonight, it comes with a hot tub," he said awkwardly.

"Oh, that's nice," you tried to sound interested, taking a fake sip of your drink. You never drank or consumed anything while working. You had a fear of being drugged, you prioritized staying alert when with new clients.

"Would you care to see it?" his tone was low and raspy, and his gaze darkened with arousal.

"Of course," you smirked, taking his hand as he led you out of the bar.

Your phone buzzed, it was a text from Rebekah; she always made sure to check in when you were meeting new clients. You smiled, knowing she was looking out for you. The two of you had an emergency plan, if you ever felt unsafe, all you had to do was text her the word 'trouble' and she would come running, and wouldn't hesitate to defend you.

This was another reason you loved being friends with Rebekah, despite the vampire thing, her overprotectiveness of the people she cared for, she was so fierce. It felt good to have someone watch your back in a business such as this. That hasn't always been the case for you.

You texted her your hotel and room number as usual, trying not to let your mind wander to her brother. It was unprofessional to be thinking about him while you were with another client, but you couldn't help it.

It had been nearly three months since you began your arrangement with Elijah, and yet he was always the one that occupied your thoughts, plaguing your dreams, controlling your waking thoughts, your fantasies.

Never had a client affected you in such a way. Sure, you had attractive and charming men seeking your company, ones that smelled nice and tipped well. But Elijah was something else entirely. He made you feel things you didn't want to feel, you had rules, boundaries, reasons to keep a safe distance. Yet with every encounter, you were drawn deeper and deeper.

You pushed the image of him out of your mind, focusing on your present client. In the elevator, his hands were all over you, pawing at you like a horny teen. Clearly, he was very excited about what was going to happen when you got to the penthouse.

"Baby, slow down, we've got all night," you reminded him, hoping he would calm down.

He ignored you and leaned in to kiss you, he was new, so you politely pushed on his chest and let him know what your rules were.

"Hold on baby, there are rules, remember?" you said, pushing his hands away.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I thought that was just a scam, you know, a way to drive up the price," he said, his hand going to his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "How much extra are we talking?"

You could see his wallet was thick with cash and you felt sick, but you played it cool. "Those are my boundaries, honey. No kissing, protection mandatory, no touching unless I say so. That's just how I do business," you said, flashing him a bright smile.

He looked disappointed, but he didn't push. "Fine," he said, putting his wallet away.

You reached the top floor and he led you to the penthouse suite, opening the door and stepping aside. "After you," he said, his voice filled with barely contained desire.

The suite was luxurious, but not the best you've seen. There was a hot tub in the corner and a huge king sized bed. The bathroom was stocked with expensive toiletries and there was a large TV.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, taking a seat on the bed.

He was far more assertive now that you were alone with him, more controlling. This wasn't too bad, you could work with that. He was older, his hair was a dirty blonde, starting to recede, he was kind of handsome if you squinted.

You began to strip, revealing your black lace lingerie. Your red dress fell to the floor in a puddle of fabric and you heard him growl with excitement.

He eyed you hungrily, licking his lips. "How many hours did I pay for again?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

"Five, and I've already started the clock," you said, giving him a coy smile.

"Good," he said, pulling out his wallet and tossing it on the bed. "Come here."

You walked over, stopping in front of him. He reached up, grabbing your breast roughly. "You have great tits," he said, squeezing.

You smiled at him, pretending to enjoy it. You knew he was paying for this, for the fantasy. You pride yourself on your performance, making sure your clients are happy, but you could already tell this was going to be a long couple of hours.

He seemed impatient, rough and demanding. Not exactly your favorite, but this was part of the job. Besides, you had been through worse.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Yes, sir," you replied, playing the part.

He grabbed your face roughly, making you look into his eyes, then everything became strange, fuzzy, distorted.

Your body felt numb, like you were floating, the room was spinning, and you had the strange sensation of being both in your body and outside it.

You were riding him, you didn't remember how you got there, or when he took his clothes off, but there he was, his cock filling you.

He was groaning and moaning beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your neck hurt, your breasts hurt, your thighs hurt, you looked down to see deep bite marks all over you, blood running down your skin.

You blinked, and suddenly you were on your back, the bedspread covered in blood, your blood. You looked up at the man above you, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes completely black.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Not enjoying yourself?" he sneered, his hand going to your throat. He squeezed, cutting off your air supply.

You gasped, struggling to breathe. Your lungs burned, your eyes filled with tears.

"What did you do to me?" You said, your voice sounding like it was coming from far away. He couldn't have drugged you, you didn't consume anything with him, you were always so careful.

He bit into your neck, his fangs sinking into your skin, holding you down with incredible strength. Cold fear ran through your veins, he was like Rebekah, like Elijah, he was a vampire.

You struggled, trying to fight him off, but you couldn't move, his strength was overwhelming. You felt him drinking your blood, his teeth tearing through your skin.

He pulled back, rolling off of you, lying beside you. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll only hurt for a minute," he said, his voice full of malicious glee. "Go wash up for round two," he demanded.

You sat up, trying to gather yourself. You needed to get out of there, and fast. You were bleeding heavily, and the world was still spinning.

He got off the bed and headed to the kitchenette, the sounds of glasses clinking and liquid pouring into a glass filled the air. He must've been getting a drink.

You were lightheaded from the blood loss, your legs shaky. You searched for your purse on the floor, the room looked different, distorted, and you couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. You were losing precious seconds looking for it, your adrenaline keeping the panic at bay.

You caught sight of it, it was beside the night table. You snatched it up and grabbed your phone, typing out the word 'trouble' to send it to Rebekah, hoping the word was enough for her to get the message.

You felt his hands on you again, a hard tug against your hair.

"Back on the bed like a good little whore," he hissed, throwing you on the bed. "I wasn't done with you."

He flipped you onto your stomach, hiking one leg up and exposing you to him. The edges of your vision grew dark, and you could hear your heartbeat growing slower, weaker. You tried to scream, but no sound came out.

You were going to die. He was going to kill you, and no one would know. Rebekah wouldn't come. You would be gone, and no one would ever find you.

Then, as your vision faded to black, all you could think of was how this was the end, how you didn't want to die this way. You had fought so hard to escape this fate, to be someone; something better than this, and yet, here you were, being raped and killed by a monster.

In the darkness you heard a bang, the cracking of wood. Someone was yelling, there was a struggle.

Then, a hand on your face, warm, soft. You heard a familiar voice, a voice that made your heart skip a beat.

"Elijah," you whispered, barely audible.

"I'm here, I'm here," he said, his voice full of panic.

You felt him press his wrist to your lips, his own blood filling your mouth. "Drink," he said softly, and you obeyed.

His blood sent a wave of heat through your body, the pain receding. You drank deeply, the world growing clearer.

You opened your eyes, his worried face above yours. He immediately pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked form, scooping you up and cradling you in his arms.

You clung to him, feeling the last vestiges of the monster's compulsion fade. You could see Rebekah standing over the man, whose spine was in her hand, her eyes dark with rage.

You were suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation, and tears began to stream down your face. You sobbed, the trauma, the horror of what had almost happened hitting you full force. You thought you had escaped this life, that it was all in your past, but it was there, fresh and ugly, rearing its head like a hydra, reminding you it would always be a part of you.

Elijah held you tightly, whispering soothing words as Rebekah inspected the body. He was solid, strong, his arms encircling you, holding you together.

"Who is he? One of Marcel's?" Elijah asked, his voice low and angry.

"He better not be," she said, taking a picture of the vampire's face and sending it to someone.

She stood up, wiping her hands on her pants, the blood from the dead vampire staining the fabric. "I'll take care of it," she said, her voice hard and cold. "Get her home," she said, gesturing to you.

Elijah nodded, carrying you out of the room. You clung to him, trying not to fall apart, not to let the pain overwhelm you. He helped you get dressed, you felt like you were outside of your body, watching the events unfold from somewhere above, somewhere safe.

It was the same place you went before. When you were younger, when you were forced into this life, it was a coping mechanism, a way to protect yourself from the horror of it all. It was a way to survive, and it was serving you now, letting you function as your body went through the motions.

You found yourself in Elijah's car, his smell surrounding you. You buried your face in his suit jacket, inhaling his scent, letting it ground you.

He was quiet, his face grim, his jaw clenched. He drove quickly, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You expected a lecture about your lifestyle, perhaps a few well-meaning but patronizing comments about how you should change, should find a new line of work.

But he said nothing. He didn't judge, didn't make you feel small, or dirty. He simply drove, his presence a balm on your battered soul.

You arrived at your building, standing at your doorway, trying to find your keys. Your hands were shaking, and he gently took them from you, unlocking the door.

You stepped inside, feeling a sense of relief. You were safe now, he had saved you, and you were home. You turned to see him still waiting in the doorway, his eyes full of concern.

"You don't have to invite me in," he said softly. "I'll wait out here until I know you're safe."

Your heart melted a little, his kindness catching you off guard. He was a gentleman, and his chivalry touched something deep inside you.

You could feel yourself being pulled toward him, and it took all of your resolve to pull back, to remind yourself of the lines, the rules, and boundaries.

"It's okay, you can come in," you said.

He nodded, stepping into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He stood there awkwardly, it was breaking all the rules, being at your home, and he was unsure of the boundaries.

He could see you, the real you, in every facet of your home. From the paintings to the books, the carefully curated pieces of your life. It felt so personal, to be standing in this space, and he could see the pain and vulnerability, the fight in you. The beautiful complexity. It was so... human, to see your life displayed so honestly, no veneer, no illusion, no façade.

"I'm going to take a shower, make yourself at home," you said, gesturing towards the living room.

He nodded, moving towards the couch, taking a seat.

You disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He was angry, furious. Marcel better have answers as to why some random vampire was in the quarter attacking people, because if he didn't, there would be hell to pay.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. He could hear the water running, and he tried not to think about you, what you just went through, what could have happened.

It all happened so fast, one moment he's in the compound, the next he's following Rebekah into a hotel room, watching her rip the spine from that vile beast.

Seeing you there, pale and lifeless, made him snap. He felt something shift inside him, his mind clouded by anger. In the years he lived, Elijah prided himself on being a rational man. He didn't lose control often, or ever, really, but at that moment, seeing you there, he was lost.

Rebekah killed him too quickly, he deserved a more painful death. He would have drawn it out, tortured him slowly, watching the light go out in his eyes. He hated vampires like that. Abusing humans in that way, playing with one's food was so very undignified.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice you walking out of the bathroom, wearing a large t-shirt that went past your knees.

You felt a bit more like yourself, the shower having washed away some of the pain and horror. You still felt shaken, and a little dazed, but you were starting to come back to yourself.

"I'm sorry, I think your jacket is ruined," you said, sitting down next to him.

He smiled sadly, glancing at the bloodied garment in his hands. "It's just a suit jacket. I can get another one," he replied.

A silence fell over you, a little uncomfortable, full of the emotions the night had stirred up. You felt raw, vulnerable. Like he could see right through you. Like everything was different, had changed, somehow. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he saved you.

You watched as he seemed to have a mental war with himself, his mind far away. You wondered what was going on in that ancient mind of his, what demons he was wrestling with, or what judgments he was passing.

Finally he looked at you, his expression soft, understanding. "I'm sorry about what happened. To you," he said gently.

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise, and tears sprang into your eyes. You blinked them back, not wanting to fall apart.

"It's my own fault, I'm used to this sort of thing," you replied, waving it off. "I knew better."

"You are used to this," he said, his tone careful. "You shouldn't be used to this," he explained.

Your eyes snapped to him, searching for the meaning behind his words.

"No one should ever have to endure that. No one," he said firmly.

He didn't say you should leave the business, act like some sort of savior, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. He didn't take it upon himself to make a proclamation about your lifestyle. Instead he met the facts with pure empathy and honesty.

It felt... genuine. It was a first. And somehow, coming from him, it meant something more. His kindness was a floodgate that allowed emotions, memories and old pain to come rushing forward.

"I ran away from home when I was just fourteen, my mom's boyfriend was... He would beat me, touch me," you said, tears stinging your eyes.

You hadn't talked about this in a long time, you had spent years trying to forget it ever happened, burying it under layers of denial, and in that moment, it all came flooding back.

"I met a woman on the street that offered me shelter for a night, and it snowballed into her making me turn tricks to repay her," you explained, looking anywhere but at his face.

It felt good to talk about it, to get the weight off of your chest. You had kept it all bottled up for so long, and the night had triggered those old memories, so it seemed right to finally share your story. His presence was warm, safe, comforting, and something told you, you could be vulnerable with him, and not be judged for it.

"When the women offered to take me in, it seemed like a blessing. Like she was saving me, offering to feed and clothe me," you sighed, shaking your head, lost in the memories of your youth.

"But she wasn't saving me, she was buying me. Buying my misery, my pain. My innocence, my body, my trust. And then, one day, I was beaten bloody, the guy she sold me to for the night refused to give her a cent and she put her cigarette out on my neck." You looked down at your lap, remembering the smell of your flesh burning, the pain radiating through your skin.

"I wasn't useful to her any longer, so she dumped me like a bag of trash." You spat the words out, trying to stay objective. Distant. You felt his eyes on you.

"And what did you do?" He asked, his voice so low and gentle. So inviting.

"I slept in a dumpster, stole clothes off of someone's line, begged on the corner, just to get by, to eat. A lady took pity on me and gave me enough money for a bus ticket," you continued, wiping a single tear away.

"The first bus I saw took me to New Orleans, and I've been here ever since," you concluded, a cold sense of finality settling over you. You didn't realize how heavy the memory had weighed on you, it had sat in the back of your mind, never giving you a moment of peace, haunting you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you like that," you said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Never apologize for what's happened to you, or how you've reacted to it," he replied. "I know this won't be much help, but you're a survivor. And you did what you had to, and still managed to end up here."

The simplicity of the statement hit you deeply. He understood. He understood what you went through, where you were coming from. He reached out and wiped away another one of your tears. You leaned into his touch, craving the comfort of his warmth.

You didn't understand how, or why, but somehow he had made it into your fortress, your walled off heart. A place no man had reached, touched or explored. Yet there he was. His thumb still swiped gently across your cheek, his dark eyes staring into your own.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. He was firm and solid, his shoulder the perfect spot to nestle in. This gesture, the simple embrace was overwhelming and your emotions spilling over. You cried, really cried, for the first time in many years. Not just tears streaming from your eyes, or silent drops, you sobbed. Your body racking with each painful outburst, a river of tears flowing over his crisp dress shirt. He held you the entire time, rubbing his hand in small circles across your back, whispering words of comfort, and strength.

Somehow, the mere knowledge of him understanding you, listening to you, opened the dam, releasing all of the pain you had repressed and carried around like an overloaded suitcase.

You cried until you exhausted yourself, and he picked you up, effortlessly and set you in his lap, your arms around his neck, your body folded into his. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, soothing, grounding. You could stay like that forever, cocooned in his strength, feeling truly safe for the first time.

You let your eyes droop, knowing that nothing could hurt you while he was there, and you succumbed to sleep, his hand combing gently through your hair, humming a soft melody murmured in a long forgotten tongue.

You woke up with a start, the morning sun streaming in through the window. You were alone, Elijah's suit jacket draped over you.

You frowned, wondering if perhaps it all had been a dream. If the monster, if the comfort of a stranger had never happened, just a horrible, awful, vivid nightmare. You glanced down and saw the dry bloodstains covering the jacket and realized it hadn't been.

Elijah wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. Something had changed between you, in a matter of hours. He saw all of your exposed, bloody, emotional, broken places, and you showed him a tiny piece of your soul, told him of your past.

You could smell his cologne, his smell lingering in the air, a faint scent left on the jacket. You took a deep breath and slipped the garment back on, smiling sadly.

You were a sucker for a nice suit.

The other smell in the air was coffee and you followed the scent into the kitchen. Rebekah was there, sitting at the table, two cups in front of her.

"Hope you like it strong," she said as you entered, gesturing to a cup of coffee in front of her.

You grabbed it, taking a sip, appreciating the kick of flavor.

"Sleep well?" she asked, glancing at you over the cup of her own.

"Honestly? It's the best night sleep I've had in ages," you admitted, taking a seat, pulling his jacket a little tighter, it felt comforting to have it on, like a security blanket.

She laughed, studying you carefully, her eyes settling on the jacket.

You wondered if she knew, if she was able to tell you had developed a very powerful crush on her brother.

Rebekah didn't know that Elijah was one of your clients, and it felt like a big secret to keep. She never judged you for your job, but she certainly judged those who sought your services.

You felt guilty for not telling her, but it was all so complicated. Your feelings for him were evolving, and you weren't quite sure what they were, or what they meant. She was your only friend and you wanted to confide in her, but you didn't know how.

"Beks, I... I have to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Eli- Elijah has been my client since you introduced me to him," you blurted out.

She sat there, shocked, not saying anything for a moment.

"Elijah. Like my brother... Elijah? The one who was with us last night, and spent the night here? That Elijah?" She said, the look of shock on her face almost comical.

"Yes, that Elijah," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"My noble brother, who is too honorable and dignified to wear the same tie twice... Has been paying you for sex?" she said slowly, seeming to process the information, before a smirk formed on her lips. "What a delicious twist. I always thought Klaus was the manwhore brother," she added with a cackle.

You blinked, your jaw hanging open, before laughing. The tension easing, knowing she didn't hate you.

You took a deep drink of your coffee, relaxing, laughing. "I'll have you know Elijah is a great client. He's an excellent tipper, not an unkind word to say, and no requests are too kinky or strange," you said with a smile.

Rebekah raised her mug towards you in a cheers motion, clearly amused, but her expression fell a bit when she took you in a little more. "You like him," she stated, her blue eyes studying your face.

"He's my client," you answered defensively.

"Yes, I am aware of the rules you play by, but you like him." She repeated her observation, this time more sure of herself.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Maybe it's wrong to, you know, develop feelings for a client. But something's different, I don't know how to explain it," you finished.

"Well, this explains why he insisted on coming with me to save you last night. And why he's gone all avenging angel this morning. I've never seen him so protective over someone who isn't family," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Avenging angel? It must have shown on your face because Rebekah launched into the tale of her brother's crusade this morning.

Apparently, he decided to eliminate everyone who associated with your attacker. Including the vampire who sired him and several others. He was methodical, brutal and utterly relentless in his vengeance. Tying them up and letting them burn in the rising sun.

"That's..." You couldn't find the words. It was insane, and it was for you. He was doing this because of you, and it made your heart swell with emotion.

"You're important to him," Rebekah said, her voice soft. "He doesn't do murder sprees for just anyone."

You sat there, processing the information, your mind a whirlwind. You weren't sure what to think, or how to feel, the fluttering in your stomach now a hurricane.

You had never been important to anyone, not like this. Men had always seen you as an object, a means to an end, but never someone who cared about your safety and well-being.

You loved him, even though it broke all your rules, all the careful walls you had built around yourself. He somehow managed to slip past your defenses, stealing his way into your heart and planting seeds for a future.

It had been a few weeks since the attack, and you were finally starting to feel normal again. You went back to work, seeing your regular clients. 

Rebekah had personally vetted and compelled every single one, and you felt safe and protected. None of them could possibly harm you, not with her looking over you.

The only thing that hadn't returned to normal was your regular once-a-week meetings with Elijah. He never called, or showed up, and it ate away at you.

Were you different to him now? After he learned about your past? Maybe he saw you as damaged goods, no longer a fantasy he could indulge in.

You weren't going to reach out, not after what had happened. He had been so kind and compassionate, but you weren't certain if it had really been genuine, or the situation making him act that way.

It hurt. As much as you tried to push it aside, and pretend it wasn't important to you, it was. Not just the money, but his presence, his kind eyes, the gentle way he cared for you. You missed him, and it broke your heart.

You needed something familiar, something safe. You had worn his jacket to bed every night since the attack, it was comforting, it made you feel safe. But not having him, being uncertain of what was going on, it was frustrating, and painful.

So, when you opened the door and saw him standing there, you were surprised. He had a bag of groceries in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, an apologetic look on his face.

"Hi," he said, a shy smile on his face. "I'm sorry, for being away for so long."

You opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. He walked past you, a nervous energy radiating off of him.

"It's okay, I figured you found another girl to play with," you replied off-handedly, a small part of you hoping to get a reaction.

He placed the bag on the table and spun around. "I assure you, no other woman holds a candle to your charms."

You laughed, liking his response, so typically him.

"I bought some groceries, and some wine," he said, gesturing to the bag and the bouquet. "Is there anything you would like me to make you for dinner?"

You smiled at him, his thoughtfulness making you blush. "Anything would be fine," you said, watching as he moved around your small kitchen. "You didn't have to do all this," you added, still a little taken aback by his gesture.

"I want to," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "I have some things I'd like to say, and I think a nice dinner might help."

You nodded, a nervous energy filling the room. He poured some wine, handing you a glass. You hesitated for a moment, fear creeping in, a million thoughts of how this could go wrong flooding your mind.

He noticed the hesitation and gently took your hand, giving it a kiss.

"If you don't want to drink, that is okay," he whispered, his voice full of understanding.

"No, it's okay," you said, smiling shyly.

You sat at the island, watching him as he worked. He was so at ease, so confident. He chopped and stirred, and the aroma of delicious food filled the air.  You never experienced this sort of thing growing up, the peaceful domesticity. It was strange, sitting there with Elijah, it felt so foreign, yet so normal. So perfect. He moved about the kitchen with a practiced ease, humming softly.

You sipped the wine, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You couldn't remember the last time you had drunk a whole glass, let alone several.

After a while, he put the food on the plates, and handed one to you. It smelled delicious, and looked even better. You took a bite, the flavors exploding in your mouth.

"Wow, this is incredible," you exclaimed, taking another bite.

He chuckled, sitting down next to you on the counter, it was so casual, so relaxed, almost intimate.

"How did you learn how to cook?" You asked, curious.

"I've lived for a thousand years, I think it would be pretty embarrassing if I didn't know how to make a proper meal," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

"I always forget just how old you are," you said, smirking.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, his voice hesitant.

"No," you said, smiling reassuringly.

You finished eating, the two of you chatting about mundane things, no talk of work or pasts, just simple conversation. It was refreshing, being able to just be, no pressure or expectations.

After you were done, he took your plate and started washing the dishes. You couldn't help but laugh, and he turned around, a look of confusion on his face.

"What's so funny?" He asked, drying his hands.

"You just... cooking, cleaning," you said, trying to compose yourself. "I've never seen anything like it,"

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," you said, grinning, "it's actually really nice,"

"Good," he said, chuckling, then he splashed some soap bubbles at you.

You gasped and glared at him, wiping the suds off your top.

"Oh, you did not just do that," you said, a wicked smile on your lips.

You grabbed the sponge and squirted him, laughing as the soap hit his face. He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

"That's how you want to play it, hmm?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

He grabbed the faucet and turned it on, spraying you with water. You squealed and tried to dodge, but he was too fast, your feet slipping on the now wet kitchen floor. You went sliding, and Elijah caught you in his arms, laughing.

Your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it, beating furiously in your chest. His warm arms were wrapped around you, and your face was inches from his. He was so close, so solid, so real. The world around you disappeared, all that mattered was him. You wanted to give in, to let yourself feel, but fear crept in.

The past flashed through your mind, the memories, the pain, the shame. You pulled away, your heart aching.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your eyes full of tears.

He took a step back, his face full of understanding.

"It's okay," he said softly, his hand reaching out and stroking your cheek.

"What did you want to talk to me about? Why are you really here?" You asked, afraid of the answer.

"I..." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "I am no longer in need of your services,"

Your heart sank, your body suddenly feeling cold. It was the answer you were expecting, but it still hurt. After what he saw in that penthouse, after all of his concern and comfort, he was done with you. Your fears were coming true.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile.

"I just..." he trailed off, his eyes still searching yours, his hand still on your cheek. "I love you, and I've been using you," he said, his eyes full of sadness. "That's why I stopped coming, it was... too much. It felt like I was taking advantage of you."

You stared at him, shock washing over you. It felt like the world had stopped moving. Love? A word you never thought would apply to you, yet here was a man, looking at you with such tenderness, such compassion, such pure undiluted love. It wasn't something you could process, love wasn't a feeling you felt worthy of, it wasn't something you believed you deserved. 

"Elijah..." You whispered, your voice barely audible. "You don't love me, you love the escort, the persona,"

"No, I love you, all of you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "The good, the bad, the messy, all of it. That's why I can't use you anymore, because I want to love you, not just fuck you,"

You stood there, your emotions warring within you. Part of you was overjoyed, the other part was terrified.

You had never been loved before, and the thought of it was both exhilarating and terrifying. But you couldn't deny the pull between the two of you, the chemistry that was always there.

And it wasn't just physical, there was something deeper, something more. Something that was worth taking a chance on.

You reached out, your hand touching his face. You could feel his breath on your skin, his warmth radiating through you. Your heart was beating so fast, your hands trembling, but you pulled him closer, your lips ghosting across his.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes searching yours, his hand gently touching your face. You closed your eyes, his scent filling your nose. You didn't care that he was your client, that you swore this would never happen, or any of the reasons you always believed it would be better to stay distant.

He was the first one to move, kissing you softly, you could feel the love, the passion, the desire. His hands tangled in your hair, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.

You clung to him, your body pressed against his, the world around you fading away. It was perfect, the moment you had been waiting for. The first time you felt like someone actually wanted you, and it was better than anything you had ever imagined.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers brushing against your skin. You could feel the heat rising within you, the need for him growing stronger. He picked you up, his lips never leaving yours, and carried you into the bedroom.

He laid you on the bed, his body hovering over you. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands caressing your skin.

You moaned, your body arching into him. You wanted him, all of him. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off. He helped you, then pulled your top over your head.

He trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipples. You let out a soft moan, your hands tangled in his hair.

He continued his exploration, his lips trailing lower, down your stomach, and stopped at the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his thumbs under it, and slowly pulled it down, his mouth kissing your hips.

He kneeled between your legs, kissing the soft skin of your thighs, waiting for your permission to break the rules.

This wasn't work, or something you were forced to do. This was something new, something special.

You spread your legs further, your arousal glistening in the dim light. He moved up your body, kissing your neck as he peeled off his remaining clothes. You reached up, tracing his jaw, and then cupping his face. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love, lust, and worry.

You nodded your head, giving him the permission he needed. His hands gripped your panties, slowly sliding them down. Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation building.

He kissed your clit, his tongue exploring the sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, your body shaking.

He took his time, wanting to taste you, wanting to give you pleasure. You deserved to feel good, to forget the pain, if even just for a moment.

He kept teasing you, his tongue circling your clit, then dancing around it. You were aching for him, the tension inside you building.

You gripped the sheets, your body writhing beneath him. You felt the pressure release, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You floated on a cloud of bliss, your body tingling with aftershocks. He kissed his way back up to you, his lips finding yours.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, cupping his face, pulling him close and kissing him. You had heard that from countless men over the years, but this was the first time you believed it, believed him.

You felt the length of him rubbing against your thigh. You reached down, stroking him, letting him know how much you wanted him.

He was so close, the scent of him filling your senses. He pressed himself against you, his erection teasing you, the ache between your thighs growing.

He wanted to make love to you, to show you what it meant to be with someone who cared about you, who loved you.

He slowly parted your legs, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for the final bit of permission.

You couldn't form the words, so instead you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. He understood, and slowly pushed into you.

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, overwhelming you. It had been so long since anyone touched you like this, and he was doing it so perfectly.

But sudden fear coursed through you, everything replaying in your mind. All the men who had used you, forced you, made you perform. The vampire who dragged you back into your trauma, took away your control.

Elijah could see the distance in your eyes, the disconnect, and he pulled away, slightly, a concerned look on his face.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft, "we can stop if you want to,"

You blinked, the memory fading, the realization setting in. Elijah wasn't like those men, he was different, caring, gentle. He made you feel safe in a way that no one else ever had.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love and affection. You reached up and cupped his face, gently pulling him towards you, your lips meeting his.

You poured your heart into the kiss, your emotions overwhelming you. He rolled the both of you on your sides, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to him, his name a whisper on your lips.

You felt a tingling building, but this wasn't pleasure, it was something else. A sense of euphoria washed over you, and for a brief moment, your whole being was at peace. You felt safe, loved, treasured. Your heart was whole, the pain and darkness gone, replaced by pure happiness and bliss.

You broke the kiss, your eyes wide as you looked at him, your heart pounding. You had never felt anything like it, never thought it was possible. You had experienced great pleasure, had orgasms that left you breathless, but this was something different, something deeper, something beyond description.

You blinked, reality settling in, your thoughts a tangled mess. You had broken your rules, given yourself to him completely, allowed him to touch the most broken and vulnerable part of you.

Your heart.

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[lunardragon00]

Pretty Woman

Choi San x Reader

A straitlaced CEO hires a spirited, streetwise prostitute to be his companion for a weeklong series of business events. But what begins as a job proposition takes a turn toward the romantic.

Warning: Prostitution // talk of past SA // angst // drug transactions // semi-smut // derogatory remarks // Physical confrontations // fighting

A/N: So this ended up being way longer than I anticipated, can't say I've written a 34k story before. But this is one of my favorite movies and I had a lot of fun writing out this story. I hope you guys enjoy!!

Choi San sat alone in the penthouse suite, his gaze fixed on the glass of whiskey in his hand. The room around him was pristine, every surface spotless, every piece of furniture carefully chosen for its clean lines and understated elegance. It was a reflection of his life—controlled, orderly, and completely under his command. But tonight, as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, he felt an unease creeping in, a crack in the carefully constructed facade.

The day had been long, filled with meetings that stretched his patience thin. This latest merger was proving more complex than he'd anticipated, and the board members he needed to sway were proving to be tougher than expected. They weren't just interested in numbers; they wanted to see the man behind the empire, the one who could charm them as easily as he could close a deal.

But charm was never San's strength. His reputation in the business world was built on precision, not pleasantries. He was known for being direct, sometimes to the point of intimidation. It worked in the boardroom, but in social settings, it was a different story. These were circles where charisma often outweighed competence, and where the right companion could make all the difference.

He took a sip of his drink, the burn of the whiskey grounding him in the present. He hated this part—the games, the false smiles, the endless small talk. But he couldn't afford to let personal discomfort jeopardize the future of his company. Not now.

San placed the glass down and glanced at the portfolio on the table, filled with profiles of potential business partners and socialites he might have to charm over the coming week. He pushed it aside, a sense of restlessness growing within him. The walls of the suite felt like they were closing in, the quiet too suffocating.

Without another thought, he grabbed his keys and jacket, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of his own success. The penthouse, with its panoramic views and luxurious trappings, suddenly felt like a gilded cage. A drive—that's what he needed. Something to clear his mind, to escape the pressure, even if just for a little while.

The piercing sound of the alarm cut through the darkness, dragging Y/N from the fragile grasp of sleep. She groaned, reaching out to silence the shrill noise, but the weight of exhaustion clung to her like a heavy blanket. It was late—too late, by any normal standard—but this was her reality. Her work didn't start until the sun went down, and tonight, like so many others, she would have to push through the fatigue and face it head-on.

She sat up slowly, the dim light of the small apartment casting long shadows across the room. The space was modest, almost bare, with only the essentials to fill it. A single bed, a rickety table with two mismatched chairs, and a small kitchenette that had seen better days. The walls were thin, the paint peeling in places, and the constant hum of the city outside was a reminder of just how close the world was, yet how far out of reach it felt.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering sleep. The truth was, she was tired—tired of the late nights, the endless hustle, the constant worry about whether she could make rent this month. The bills were piling up, and the money she made barely stretched far enough to cover the essentials. The landlord had been patient so far, but she knew that wouldn't last. Sooner or later, the demands would come, and she'd be out on the street if she couldn't pay.

She hated this life. It wasn't what she had dreamed of, not by a long shot. But dreams didn't pay the bills, and right now, this was the only job she had. The streets were unforgiving, and while she had learned how to navigate them, the cost was steep—her dignity, her peace of mind, her sense of self-worth.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cold floor. The weight of reality settled heavily on her shoulders as she stood up, forcing herself to move, to get ready. There was no time for self-pity. She had to make it through another night, like all the nights before, and hope that somehow, things would get better.

In the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the cracked mirror. The woman staring back at her looked older than her years, the stress and strain etched into her features. She had learned how to paint on a smile, how to project confidence and allure, but it was all a mask. Beneath it, she was just trying to survive, one day at a time.

She sighed and turned away from the mirror, focusing instead on getting dressed. The clothes she wore for work were another layer of armor, a way to protect herself from the harshness of the world outside. But tonight, as she prepared to step back into that world, the weight of it all felt heavier than usual.

With a final glance around the apartment, Y/N grabbed her coat and headed for the door. The night awaited her, as it always did, with the promise of more struggles, more compromises. But she pushed the thoughts aside and forced herself to move forward. She had no other choice.

The night air was cool against her skin as Y/N stepped out onto the street, pulling her coat tighter around her. The city was alive with noise and movement, even at this hour, a mix of neon lights and shadows playing across the cracked pavement. She walked with purpose, her steps quick and determined, though the heaviness in her chest made each one feel like a struggle.

As she moved through the city, the sights and sounds of the underbelly surrounded her. She passed by an alley where two men huddled close, exchanging cash for small, wrapped packages. Their eyes darted nervously, their voices low and hurried. Further down the road, a couple of men were shouting at each other, the tension between them palpable as they squared off, fists clenched. She kept her distance, not wanting to get caught up in whatever was brewing.

Y/N had learned to navigate these streets, to keep her head down and her wits about her. She wasn't new to the dangers that lurked in the shadows, the unseen threats that could emerge at any moment. But that didn't make it any easier. Each night was a test of survival, a gamble she was forced to play.

The shouts and hollers of drunken revelers echoed across the road, mingling with the sounds of traffic and the occasional blare of a horn. Groups of men and women, some dressed in flashy clothes that reflected the city lights, others looking more worn down by life, wandered along the sidewalks. Y/N kept to herself, her eyes scanning the area, always aware of her surroundings.

She turned a corner and spotted a familiar face waiting for her beneath a flickering streetlamp. Seoyeon. Her friend's expression was a mix of impatience and irritation, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. Seoyeon's appearance was sharp and eye-catching, but her demeanor was far from friendly tonight.

"About time," Seoyeon snapped as Y/N approached, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've been waiting forever. Did you forget we had a deal?"

Y/N forced a smile, trying to mask the frustration that bubbled beneath the surface. "I'm here now. What's going on?"

Seoyeon rolled her eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a dramatic sigh. "I'm in trouble again. You know how it is—always something. I need you to cover me this time. Can't have another mess on my hands."

Y/N's jaw tightened, the familiar resentment flaring up. "Seriously, Seoyeon? Every time it's the same story. You get into trouble, and I'm the one who has to clean up your mess."

"Hey, don't get all high and mighty," Seoyeon retorted, her voice defensive. "I didn't ask for this, alright? But you're the only one who can help me out. Just this once, okay?"

Y/N clenched her fists, struggling to keep her temper in check. She cared about Seoyeon, had been dragged into this industry because of her, but it didn't make the constant reliance any easier to bear. "Fine. What do you need?"

Seoyeon's face softened slightly, though there was still a hint of manipulation in her eyes. "I owe some guys money. I was supposed to meet them earlier, but I messed up. Can you go and sort it out? I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. "You always say that. When's the last time you actually followed through?"

Seoyeon's gaze shifted, a flicker of guilt passing over her features before she masked it with a smirk. "Look, I'm in a bind. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. You know I wouldn't."

The unspoken history between them—how Seoyeon had been the one to introduce Y/N to this world, how she had promised it would be a temporary solution—hung heavy in the air. Y/N had hoped for something better, but now, each promise felt like a broken record, spinning endlessly without resolution.

"Alright," Y/N said finally, her voice resigned. "I'll take care of it. But we need to talk about this. Soon."

Seoyeon nodded, her expression a mix of relief and annoyance. "Sure, sure. Thanks, Y/N. You're a lifesaver."

Y/N watched as Seoyeon turned and walked away, the cigarette still dangling from her fingers. She felt a pang of anger mixed with sympathy, a complicated cocktail of emotions that never seemed to resolve itself. 

The night had grown colder as Y/N walked through the winding streets to the rendezvous point, her breath visible in the crisp air. The alley was dimly lit, illuminated only by the flickering light of a broken streetlamp and the occasional passing car. She approached a group of men leaning against the graffiti-covered brick wall, their faces half-hidden in the shadows.

"Hey, guys," Y/N called out, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm here about the money."

The men looked up, their expressions shifting from casual to curious as they recognized her. One of them, a taller man with a more approachable demeanor, smiled and pushed off the wall.

"Ah, Y/N. We've been expecting you," he said, his tone friendly. "Glad you could make it."

Y/N managed a relieved smile, stepping closer. "Yeah, sorry I'm late. Seoyeon was supposed to cover this, but she's in a bit of a mess. I can sort it out—just need one more night."

"Of course she is," the man said, his demeanor relaxed. "Well then, let's get this over with. We've got other matters to handle."

Y/N nodded, trying to remain calm. "I get that. Look, I don't have anything one me right now, but I'll have the cash for you tomorrow night, I swear."

The men exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed. "Look, Y/N, you're a sweet girl but tomorrow night? You think that's gonna cut it?" the burly man shot back, his voice edged with anger. "We need the money now."

"I understand," Y/N said, her voice growing more desperate. "Just give me one more night. I'll have it for you, I promise." The man's smile turned into a smirk. "Well, there's an easy solution. How about you spend the night with us, huh?" He gestured to himself and the main guy, a heavily tattooed man with a menacing presence. "For free. We'll call it even."

Y/N's blood ran cold. "No, I can't do that. I told you, I'll pay you back tomorrow. C'mon you know me, you know I'm good on my word."

The atmosphere turned hostile as the men's smiles vanished, replaced by harsh glares. The wiry man with the predatory look stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can just waltz in here and make promises? We're not in the mood for games."

Y/N took a step back, her pulse quickening. "I'm not trying to play games. I'm serious about paying you back. Just please—"

Before she could finish, the wiry man grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her toward Tony. "You're coming with us. We're not waiting another night."

Y/N struggled, trying to pull away, but their grip was firm. "Let go! Hey, this isn't right!"

The situation escalated quickly as the men began to surround her. The taller man's initial friendly demeanor had vanished, replaced by a predatory gleam in his eyes. The burly man moved in closer, clearly intent on making good on their threat.

Just as the situation seemed to reach a breaking point, a new figure appeared from the shadows—tall, well-dressed, and entirely out of place in the gritty alley. His presence commanded immediate attention. He moved with purpose, his demeanor confident and authoritative.

"Hey!" the newcomer called out sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. "Let her go."

The men turned to face him, surprise and irritation evident on their faces. The newcomer stepped forward, placing himself between Y/N and the group. His gaze was cold, his stance unyielding.

"Who the hell are you?" the wiry man demanded, his voice laced with hostility.

The well-dressed man didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently but firmly placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder, guiding her away from the group. "We're leaving."

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and confusion. She followed his lead, her heart racing as they moved away from the men and into the safety of the streetlight's glow. Behind them, the group of men muttered angrily but made no move to follow.

Once they were at a safe distance, the well-dressed man stopped and turned to Y/N, his expression softening slightly. "Are you alright?"

Y/N nodded, though her voice was shaky. "Yeah, thanks to you. I didn't expect anyone to come along."

The man's gaze remained steady, his demeanor calm despite the tension of the moment. "You shouldn't have to deal with that kind of situation. Where do you live, let me give you a ride."

Y/N hesitated, the events of the night weighing heavily on her. She glanced back at the alley, then at the man, unsure of what to do next. "I don't want to impose..."

The man's look was firm yet kind. "It's not an imposition. You look like you've had a long night, just let me help."

With a grateful nod, Y/N followed him to his car, the warmth of the interior a stark contrast to the cold night air. As they drove away from the city's shadows, Y/N couldn't help but wonder about the man who had come to her aid.

The interior of the car was a world apart from the grimy streets Y/N had just escaped. The leather seats were plush and inviting, the dashboard gleaming with high-tech controls that she had only ever seen in movies. As they drove through the city, Y/N's gaze wandered around the cabin, her eyes wide with curiosity.

San's focus remained on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel with practiced ease. Occasionally, he glanced at Y/N, amused by her fascination with the car.

"Is it far?" San asked, breaking the silence as he navigated through the night traffic.

Y/N snapped back to the present, momentarily disoriented by the question. "Oh, um, no, not too far. Just a few more turns up ahead."

She then turned her attention back to the interior of the car, her fingers lightly brushing the leather seat beside her. "I've never been in a car like this before. It's... wow. Everything is so sleek and shiny. The seats are so soft, and look at this dashboard! I don't even know what half these buttons do, but they look so cool."

San chuckled softly, his eyes still on the road. "Glad you like it."

Y/N nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling. "I do! I mean, I've seen fancy cars in magazines and on TV, but this is different. It's like being inside a work of art. I bet you have a lot of these kinds of things, huh?"

San shook his head, still amused. "Not really. This is just one of the nicer ones I use."

Y/N's eyes widened. "Oh, so you have more cars like this? That's cool! You must really enjoy them."

San gave a noncommittal shrug. "I suppose you could say that."

Intrigued, Y/N leaned forward a bit, her curiosity piqued. "So, what do you do? I mean, you must be pretty important to have a car like this. Are you like, a businessman or something?"

San glanced at her briefly. "Something like that."

Y/N tilted her head, her curiosity getting the better of her. "You don't talk much about yourself, do you? It's like you're all mysterious and stuff. I bet you've got some fascinating stories."

San's lips curled into a slight smile. "Everyone has their stories."

Y/N's eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and amusement. "You're like one of those enigmatic figures you read about in books. I bet you've had all sorts of adventures and high-stakes meetings. You probably have to deal with all sorts of dramatic stuff, huh?"

San's expression remained steady, but his eyes held a glint of amusement. Y/N laughed softly, her gaze drifting back to the sleek dashboard. "I can't help but imagine you're the type who has a secret lair or something, like in those spy movies. Is that why you're so good at keeping things vague?"

San chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Maybe I just prefer to keep things simple."

Y/N grinned, her mood lightened by the conversation. "Well, whatever your secrets are, I'm just grateful you were around tonight. It's not every day someone gets saved from a rough situation and ends up in a car like this."

"You always talk this much?" San asked, his tone teasing.

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that carried a hint of relief. "Well, I do like to keep the conversation going. It's better than sitting in silence, don't you think?"

San raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her with a smirk. "I suppose so. But you do have a lot to say."

Y/N's eyes twinkled with mischief. "What can I say? I like to make the most out of any situation. And besides, it's not every day I get to ride in a car like this with a mysterious, enigmatic gentleman."

San chuckled, the sound warm and easy. "I'll take that as a compliment."

They shared a moment of comfortable silence as the cityscape glided past outside the windows. Y/N's mind raced with thoughts, her nerves settling into a curious excitement. She had never been in a situation like this before—driving through the city with a wealthy stranger who had come to her rescue. As the car continued its smooth journey, Y/N decided to seize the opportunity.

Turning towards San, she shifted her posture slightly, leaning in with a playful glint in her eyes. "You know," she began, her voice taking on a softer, more flirtatious tone, "it's really kind of you to help me out tonight. I'm sure a guy like you doesn't get to meet people like me very often."

San's eyes flickered with amusement, though he kept his focus on the road. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Y/N's smile widened as she toyed with the hem of her jacket. "Well, I'm just saying, a man of your... caliber must have a lot of exciting things going on. And I'm pretty good at making a night memorable."

San's expression remained guarded, but there was a faint, intrigued glimmer in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Y/N leaned a little closer, her voice dropping to a more intimate pitch. "Absolutely. I mean, I could make this night unforgettable in more ways than one. I'm available for, let's say, special services. And considering how you're such a great guy, I'd be happy to give you a special rate."

San glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. "You're quite the charmer. But I think I'll have to pass on that offer."

Y/N chuckled softly, her cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just thought I'd ask. Can't blame a girl for trying, right?"

San's tone softened, his gaze returning to the road. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not looking for anything like that. Just helping someone out."

Y/N nodded, a mix of relief and disappointment settling in. "Fair enough. Thanks again for the ride and for stepping in back there. It really meant a lot."

San's expression relaxed into a genuine smile. "No problem."

As the car continued its journey through the city, the atmosphere between them remained light and easy. Y/N felt a newfound sense of comfort in the company of her mysterious rescuer, and despite the night's earlier chaos, the drive had become a small, unexpected adventure of its own.

When they finally reached her apartment, Y/N turned to San with a grateful smile. "This is me. Thanks again for everything."

San nodded, his expression sincere. "Anytime. Take care."

With a final wave, Y/N stepped out of the car, her mind still buzzing with the events of the night. As she watched the sleek vehicle drive away, she couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and curiosity about the man who had come to her aid. 

San leaned back in his chair as the last of the meeting's participants filed out of the conference room. The air was thick with the residue of business discussions and deal-making, but the tension had eased. He rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the upcoming week settle heavily on his shoulders.

Sung-Ho, his assistant, approached with a stack of files in hand. "Good meeting, sir. I've got the agenda for the week and a few other updates for you."

San nodded, accepting the files and flipping through them briefly. "Great, let's hear it."

As Sung-Ho outlined the key events and gatherings San would be attending, he made a subtle but pointed comment. "You know, San, with all these formal dinners and social gatherings coming up, it might be a good idea to find a date. You've been turning down every candidate I've sent your way."

San sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I've been busy. Besides, I don't see the need for a date."

Sung-Ho raised an eyebrow. "It's not just about having someone to accompany you. You need someone who can help you make the right impressions and navigate the social intricacies. Your presence alone won't be enough to charm the people you need to win over."

San leaned back in his chair, contemplating the week ahead. Formal dinners, high-profile events, and social gatherings—each one demanding a perfect blend of charm and sophistication. He knew Sung-Ho was right. His sharp intellect and business acumen were only part of the equation. The social finesse required to win over his targets was something he needed to address.

"I'll find someone," San said dismissively, waving off the concern. "I've got a few ideas."

Sung-Ho nodded, though his expression was one of mild frustration. "Alright, but don't wait too long. The events are just around the corner."

As Sung-Ho left the office to handle other tasks, San's thoughts drifted back to the girl he had encountered the previous night. Despite his best efforts to focus on the pressing business matters at hand, she lingered in his mind—a vivid memory of her wide-eyed curiosity and her desperate yet hopeful demeanor. The way she had spoken about his car, the brief but genuine connection they had shared—there was something about her that struck a chord.

San's gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts a whirl of the week's demands and the unexpected encounter. He found himself wondering if she might be the very person he needed. Not just for her charm, but for the unique spark she seemed to possess. A companion who could navigate the social scene with ease, who could stand by his side and play the perfect partner—she might just fit the bill.

San sat in his penthouse, a glass of whiskey resting in his hand. The room around him was vast and sleek, filled with an understated luxury that perfectly matched his quiet intensity. He swirled the amber liquid, his mind still racing with thoughts of the week ahead, and more importantly, of the girl who had occupied his thoughts all day. His phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence.

San picked it up, already sensing what was coming.

"There's a guest waiting for you downstairs," the voice on the other end said smoothly.

San didn't need to ask who it was. "I'll be down shortly."

Hanging up, he stood and straightened his jacket, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. The intrigue of it all had him moving with a certain energy, a curiosity that he rarely indulged. It wasn't every day that someone broke into his carefully calculated world, and the prospect of seeing her again—her wide-eyed wonder, her unabashed honesty—brought an unexpected thrill.

Descending to the lobby, the elevator's soft chime announced his arrival. The grand, marble-clad space of the hotel's entrance greeted him, bustling with guests coming and going, the soft hum of activity filling the air. His driver stood by the entrance, a tall figure dressed in black, as composed and professional as ever. But San's attention wasn't on him.

Near the towering glass doors, she stood, her figure slightly hunched with nervous energy. Her gaze darted around the opulent lobby, eyes wide and mesmerized by the splendor of it all—the chandeliers glittering above, the golden accents that adorned the room, the polished floors that gleamed beneath her feet. She seemed out of place but not in a way that detracted from her; if anything, she stood out even more vividly against the backdrop of wealth and luxury.

She wore a simple outfit, nothing flashy, but her nervous fidgeting gave away her uncertainty. Her fingers twisted the edge of her coat as she anxiously glanced around, trying not to seem overwhelmed.

San paused for a moment, watching her from a distance. Her wide-eyed fascination was endearing, and the vulnerability she carried with her was unlike anything he had seen in the circles he usually moved in. He almost found it amusing—how she couldn't stop gazing at the grandeur surrounding her, like a tourist stepping into a whole new world.

Finally, he stepped forward, his movements purposeful yet unhurried. As he approached, Y/N's gaze flicked towards him, and her eyes widened slightly when she recognized him. For a moment, she looked as if she didn't know what to say, her mouth opening slightly in surprise.

"Enjoying the view?" San asked, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

Y/N blinked, realizing she had been caught staring. A small, sheepish smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah... this place is incredible. I've never seen anything like it."

San offered her a brief smile. "It has its charms."

Y/N shifted on her feet, still unsure of how to handle the situation. She opened her mouth again, words tumbling out in a hurried string of sentences. "I, uh... I didn't know you were the one asking for me. Your driver... Jungwoo, right? Yeah, real good guy, super nice. He, uh, didn't say much, just kind of looked at me all serious-like. But you know, he did open the door for me, so that was nice. And this place... wow, it's like something out of a movie. Do you live here? Like, is this your everyday life?"

Her words came out fast, her nervous habit of talking when she was anxious taking over. She fidgeted with her coat, her fingers constantly moving, twisting the fabric as if seeking some sort of comfort. San observed her with a quiet amusement, noticing how her fidgeting seemed to mirror her thoughts—fast, unpredictable, a little scattered.

San found the habit unexpectedly charming. In his world of poised confidence and carefully chosen words, her raw nervousness was a rare thing. She was trying to navigate the moment, not with the smoothness of someone accustomed to such luxury, but with an open curiosity and honesty that made her stand out even more.

"I live here when I'm in town," he replied, his voice even and measured, doing little to hint at the thoughts running through his mind. "And yes, Jungwoo's a good man. Been with me for years."

Y/N nodded rapidly, her eyes flicking between him and the grand interior of the lobby. "That's nice. It's nice to have someone you can rely on, you know? I don't really have that kind of thing, but... anyway, this place is just... I mean, do you ever get used to it? Like, walking in here every day and not getting lost in all the marble and the chandeliers?"

San's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You'd be surprised how quickly it becomes normal."

Y/N laughed nervously, her fingers still twisting at the edges of her coat. "I bet. You probably don't even notice the fancy stuff anymore, huh? Meanwhile, I'm over here trying not to bust my ass on the shiny floors."

The words left her mouth before she even realized how loud she had spoken, and in that instant, an older couple walked past them, their heads turning sharply toward her. The woman gasped, her eyes widening in shock as though she'd just overheard something scandalous.

San caught the reaction out of the corner of his eye and tried his hardest to suppress the laugh bubbling up in his throat. His lips twitched as he glanced back at Y/N, who was blissfully unaware of the couple's disapproval.

"Did... did she just—?" the woman whispered loudly to her husband, her voice brimming with disbelief.

"Yes, I think she did," her husband replied, equally scandalized.

Y/N blinked, realizing something was off. She looked at San with wide eyes, and he nodded subtly toward the retreating couple. When she saw them, her face flushed red in embarrassment.

"Oh, no..." Y/N muttered, clearly mortified. "I didn't mean to—ugh, this is why I shouldn't talk so much."

San bit back a chuckle, raising a hand to his mouth as if clearing his throat. "Come on," he said smoothly, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back to guide her. "Before you scandalize anyone else."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a sheepish giggle as she hurried along beside him. "Right."

As they approached the entrance, Jungwoo was still standing dutifully by the door. He gave a respectful nod to both San and Y/N. "Good night, sir. Miss," he greeted.

"Good night, Jungwoo!" Y/N chimed back cheerfully, waving at him in a way that made San smile. The driver's stoic expression softened ever so slightly at her enthusiastic farewell.

San nodded at Jungwoo before ushering Y/N towards the elevators. She hadn't quite stopped fidgeting, still nervously twisting her coat in her fingers as they walked.

"Stop fidgeting," San said, his tone gentle but firm.

Y/N blinked up at him, momentarily surprised by the command. She opened her mouth to apologize, but instead, she found herself laughing. "Sorry! I didn't even realize I was doing it. It's like a nervous habit or something."

San smiled faintly, though his tone remained steady. "I noticed."

She grinned back at him as they entered the elevator. "You know, for a guy who doesn't talk much, you sure notice a lot."

The elevator doors slid shut, and the gentle hum of the machinery filled the silence. San glanced at her, his eyes flickering with quiet amusement. "I like to observe."

Y/N's grin widened. "So what do you observe about me, huh?"

San chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You talk too much."

Y/N gasped in mock offense, playfully nudging him with her elbow. "Hey! You saved me, remember? The least you could do is pretend you enjoy my rambling."

San's smile deepened, a warmth in his expression that hadn't been there before. "I don't mind it," he said, his voice softer now. "At least it keeps things interesting."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised by the admission, but before she could respond, the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival. She stepped out into the hallway, still buzzing with nervous energy, but now there was a touch of excitement in her eyes.

Y/N stepped out of the elevator, her footsteps light as they moved through the quiet hallway. Her nerves still hummed, but now there was a noticeable shift—an underlying excitement that had taken root. As they reached the end of the hallway, San led her toward a grand set of double doors, and with a slight twist of his wrist, he opened them to reveal the vast expanse of his penthouse.

The moment Y/N crossed the threshold, her eyes widened in disbelief. Her gaze swept across the enormous open living space, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city lights in the distance, the pristine furniture that looked like it had been plucked straight from a high-end design magazine, and the endless stretch of the space itself. The room seemed to go on forever, each corner revealing something more extravagant than the last.

"Holy shit!" Y/N blurted out, her voice echoing through the room before she could stop herself. "You could fit a whole school in this place!"

San turned to her, momentarily caught off guard by her outburst. His brows lifted slightly in surprise, though a hint of amusement lingered in his expression. He hadn't expected such an unfiltered reaction, but with Y/N, perhaps he should have known better by now.

He said nothing, simply watching her as she continued to take in the grandeur of the penthouse. There was something refreshing about her genuine amazement, so different from the poised reactions he was used to seeing from others.

Y/N, realizing her own words, glanced sheepishly at him. "Sorry, I... guess I got a little carried away. But seriously, this place is insane! Do you live here alone?"

San merely nodded, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. "Yes. It's quiet. I like it that way."

"Quiet?" Y/N repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. "How could it not be quiet? You'd have to scream just to be heard on the other side of the room!"

San's lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. "That's not entirely true."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Right. I'm guessing you don't throw a lot of parties in here, huh?"

"Not exactly," San replied, a rare touch of humor in his tone. He turned toward the sleek kitchen area, gesturing subtly. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Yeah, sure," Y/N answered, her eyes still roaming the expansive space in awe. "I'm guessing whatever you have in here is way fancier than the two-dollar wine I usually get."

As San moved toward the kitchen, Y/N continued to take in the penthouse, her wide-eyed curiosity unable to be contained. It wasn't just the sheer size of the place—it was everything about it. The sleek surfaces, the high-end appliances, the subtle but expensive d��cor. It was a far cry from anything she had ever experienced before.

San opened a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. He handed one to Y/N, who took it with a small nod of thanks, still looking somewhat out of place in the lavish surroundings. She eyed the glass cautiously before taking a sip, pleasantly surprised by the smooth taste.

"So," she started, trying to sound casual despite the obvious confusion in her voice, "I still don't really get why I'm here." She glanced over at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. "I mean, I get the whole 'driver showing up' thing and all, but what's the deal? Why'd you bring me here?"

San leaned back against the counter, his expression unreadable as he regarded her. He was silent for a moment, as though considering his answer carefully. "I need a companion," he said at last, his voice steady. "For a few business events happening this week."

Y/N blinked, clearly not expecting that. "A companion?" she echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Like... arm candy or something?"

San's lips quirked into a faint smile, but his eyes remained serious. "In a manner of speaking, yes. These events are important—networking opportunities, meetings with influential people. They require a certain... presence."

Y/N stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he was saying. "So, you're saying you want me to be that presence?" she asked, still somewhat incredulous. "Why me? I'm not exactly the type of girl who mingles with the high and mighty."

San shrugged, his calm demeanor unruffled by her questioning. "You stood out to me," he said simply. "There's something about you that's... different."

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced. "That's it? You just decided I'm 'different' and figured I'd make a good companion for your fancy events?"

San's smile deepened, but he didn't offer any further explanation. "It's more complicated than that," he said, deftly avoiding the heart of her question. "But I think you'll do just fine."

Y/N opened her mouth to press him further, but something in his gaze stopped her. He wasn't going to elaborate, and for now, it seemed like that was all she was going to get. With a sigh, she leaned back against the kitchen island, swirling her wine in her glass.

"Alright," she said, finally giving in. "I guess I'll roll with it. But don't expect me to suddenly become some glamorous socialite. That's not really my thing."

San's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'm not asking you to change who you are. Just be yourself."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure about that? Because 'myself' tends to stick out like a sore thumb in places like this."

San met her gaze evenly. "That's precisely why I asked you."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Alright Mister, but how's this gonna work? Do I have to blow you or something to get paid?"

San blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Y/N's bluntness. He hadn't expected her to be so direct, but then again, he was quickly learning that Y/N wasn't the type to shy away from uncomfortable topics. Still, he handled it with the same calm he always carried.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he set his glass down on the counter. "No," he replied smoothly, his voice steady. "That's not part of the deal."

Y/N looked at him skeptically, leaning against the kitchen island with her arms crossed. "So, you're telling me you just want me to hang out with you, look pretty at some fancy events, and that's it? No strings attached?"

San met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm not asking for anything else from you. You're here for one reason: to be my companion at these events. Nothing more."

Y/N studied him for a moment, as if searching for any sign of deceit in his words. But his expression remained unwavering, his gaze steady. It was almost unsettling how calm and composed he was, like he'd thought this through a hundred times already.

She finally let out a breath, feeling some of her tension melt away. "Alright, then," she said, though there was still a hint of doubt in her voice. "If that's all you want, I guess I can handle that."

San's lips quirked up in the faintest hint of a smile. "Good," he said, pushing himself off the counter and picking up his glass again. "Tell me, how much do you guys usually make?"

Y/N shifted on her feet, her eyes drifting to the floor as she considered his question. It wasn't exactly something she liked talking about, but at this point, everything was already out in the open. She lifted her gaze back to San, her voice casual but tinged with a hint of bitterness. "I typically charge about a hundred an hour."

San nodded thoughtfully, swirling the liquid in his glass as if he were deep in contemplation. "A hundred an hour," he echoed, almost to himself. "Well, I think we can do better than that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, taken aback by his matter-of-fact tone. "Better than that?" she repeated, unsure if he was being serious or if this was just some kind of joke.

San met her gaze directly. "You're not here for one night," he stated calmly. "This will be for the entire week. I'll pay you for your time, your presence, and your ability to keep up with what will likely be some of the most boring social events you've ever experienced. So... let's make it worth your while."

Y/N blinked, still trying to process what he was offering. "Wait, so how much are we talking about?"

San tilted his head slightly, his eyes calculating for a moment before he spoke. "Let's start with five thousand," he said evenly. "For the week."

Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Five thousand? That was more money than she had ever seen in one place. "Five thousand," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

San nodded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Do we have a deal?"

"Before I agree, I at least need to know who you are. I don't even know your name." San's gaze lingered on her for a moment, the intensity in his eyes softening slightly. He realized that amidst all their interactions, he had never properly introduced himself. It was a simple request, but her words reminded him of the strange nature of their encounter.

He set his glass down on the counter and turned to face her fully, extending a hand in a formal gesture. "You're right. I should have started with that." His voice held an air of professionalism, but there was an undertone of warmth that hadn't been there before.

"My name is San," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "Choi San."

Y/N glanced at his outstretched hand for a moment, before reaching out and shaking it, her grip firm but a little hesitant. "Y/N," she replied. "I guess you already knew that."

San smiled faintly. "Yes, but it's good to hear it from you."

She let out a small laugh, pulling her hand back. "Alright, Mr. Choi San. Now that we're formally acquainted, I'll give it a shot." Her expression turned a little more serious, though there was still a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "

Y/N's lips parted, her curiosity still bubbling up, but before she could say anything further, a sharp ring cut through the air. San glanced down at his phone, his expression shifting ever so slightly—businesslike and composed.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said, his tone polite but firm. "Make yourself comfortable."

Y/N watched him move to the side, the sudden shift in his demeanor catching her off guard. He walked away with purpose, phone in hand, already engaging in a low conversation. The warmth that had filled the space between them seemed to dissipate for a moment as his focus was pulled elsewhere.

Left standing there, Y/N took a deep breath and glanced around the penthouse again, trying to ease her nerves. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but things felt a bit... surreal. The walls seemed to close in slightly as the reality of the situation set in once again. She was in this world of luxury, where she didn't quite belong, yet here she was.

With a shrug, Y/N wandered over to the plush sofa, sitting down gingerly, feeling the soft fabric under her fingers. She glanced back at San, who was deep in conversation, pacing slightly by the large windows that overlooked the city. Something about him was still an enigma to her, his duality between warmth and aloofness keeping her on edge, but also intrigued.

Not knowing what else to do, she pulled her feet up onto the couch, allowing herself a moment of quiet as she took in the space around her. Her gaze drifted to the art on the walls, the polished furniture, the view beyond the windows. Despite her initial discomfort, there was something oddly calming about the environment.

Y/N exhaled, trying to relax, though she still couldn't shake the sense of wonder that lingered at the edges of her mind. San returned from his phone call, his demeanor relaxed but focused. He looked over at Y/N, who was still seated on the plush sofa, her eyes wandering around the opulent room.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, his tone casual.

Y/N shook her head, a faint hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "No, not yet. I didn't have time before I came here."

San nodded, moving toward a nearby door that presumably led to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a quick shower. Feel free to order anything from room service if you're hungry. It's all on me."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, her gaze shifting to the small menu card sitting on the coffee table. "Oh, thanks. I might just do that."

San paused, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he looked back at her. "Make yourself at home. I'll be out in a few."

With that, he slipped into the bathroom, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Y/N was left alone in the vast, elegant space, the soft hum of the city outside mingling with the gentle sounds of the penthouse.

She took a moment to herself, considering her options. The menu was extensive, and she felt a pang of hunger as she scanned the offerings. The idea of ordering a meal seemed almost like a luxury she wasn't quite used to, but it was a welcome change from her usual routine.

Deciding to take advantage of the opportunity, Y/N picked up the phone and dialed the number for room service. As she placed her order, she couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness about the evening ahead.

When she finished, she set the phone down and looked around again, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over her. The penthouse was quiet, and the luxurious surroundings made her feel both at ease and out of place. As she waited for the food, she found herself contemplating the unexpected turn her night had taken and the enigmatic man who had brought her here.

San had just settled into the living area of his penthouse, dressed casually in a short-sleeve shirt and baggy sweatpants. The change from his usual formal attire made him feel more relaxed, but his mind was still occupied with the details of the evening.

He was about to head to the door when the chime of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Just as he was about to get up, he heard the distinct sound of running feet and a cheerful shout of "I'll get it!"

Y/N appeared from the hallway, her hair damp and styled loosely, and wrapped in a plush robe that seemed to swallow her whole. The casual look was a stark contrast to her earlier appearance, but it was charming in its own way. San's gaze lingered on her as she hurried to answer the door.

The room service attendant, carrying a cart laden with a selection of dishes and a bottle of champagne, greeted Y/N with a professional nod. Y/N's face lit up with an enthusiastic smile, clearly excited about the meal.

"Hi there!" she said, her voice warm. "This looks amazing!"

San watched with mild amusement as Y/N chatted with the attendant, her robe slightly askew as she gestured towards the food. The attendant glanced around the luxurious penthouse with a hint of curiosity before focusing back on Y/N.

"Where would you like us to put the bottle of champagne?" the attendant asked.

Y/N looked over at San, who had taken a seat on the sofa, observing the scene with an appreciative smile. She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Uh, San, where would you like it?"

San met her gaze, his smile widening slightly. "Just set it on the table, please."

Y/N relayed the instructions to the attendant, who efficiently placed the bottle on the coffee table, then began arranging the food with practiced ease. As the attendant finished setting up, Y/N continued to chat amiably, her enthusiasm for the food evident in her animated expressions.

Once the attendant left, Y/N turned back to San, her face flushed slightly from the exertion. "Thanks," she said, her eyes sparkling with genuine appreciation. "I was starving."

San leaned back, watching her with a thoughtful expression. "You're welcome. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Y/N moved to the sofa, dropping onto it with a sigh of relief. "I wasn't sure what to expect tonight, but this is definitely a nice surprise. I hope I'm not overstepping my welcome."

San shook his head, the corners of his mouth curving up. "Not at all. I'm glad you're comfortable."

Y/N's eyes lit up as she started to explore the food, her excitement palpable. "I'm definitely taking you up on that. This spread looks incredible!"

San watched her, his gaze lingering as he admired her natural charm and easygoing demeanor. In that moment, he felt a sense of contentment, realizing that having Y/N around was turning out to be a more pleasant experience than he had anticipated.

San's morning had been a whirlwind of back-to-back meetings and tense negotiations. As the hours dragged on, he found himself yearning for a brief respite, something to lift his spirits. In the midst of his busy day, a thought occurred to him—Y/N. He decided to check in on her, if only to break the monotony.

Leaving his office, he strolled over to the receptionist desk, where he picked up the phone and dialed the hotel room he knew Y/N was staying in. He leaned casually against the desk, a small smile playing at his lips as he awaited her response.

The phone rang a few times before Y/N answered, her voice coming through the receiver with a hint of casual nonchalance. "Hello?"

San decided to tease her a bit. "Never answer the phone for anyone."

Y/N scoffed softly. "Good Morning San, what do you want?"

San chuckled lightly, leaning back against the desk as he spoke. "Just checking in. How's your morning been so far?"

Y/N let out a relaxed sigh. "It's been pretty good, actually. I explored a bit and got used to the place. And you? Still drowning in meetings, I assume?"

San's expression softened. "You're not wrong. It's been one of those days. But hearing your voice is a nice change."

Y/N laughed lightly, a sound that lifted San's spirits even more. "Well, I'm glad I can be of service. So, what's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know that I left my card on the dining table," San said. "Feel free to use it for shopping today. We've got a formal dinner tonight, and I thought you might like to pick out something nice."

Y/N's voice brightened at the suggestion. "Wow, really? That's so thoughtful of you. Thanks, Mr. Choi."

San grinned. "Of course. Enjoy your shopping."

After hanging up, San's mood had notably improved. He felt lighter, more energized. As he returned to his office, he glanced at his receptionist, who was watching him with a hint of curiosity.

"I need you to call the hotel room again," San instructed, his tone light but purposeful.

The receptionist nodded, picking up the phone and beginning to dial. Just as the call was connecting, one of San's coworkers approached with a stack of documents.

"Mr. Choi, the meeting is about to start," the coworker said, glancing at his watch.

San held up a hand, his expression focused. "I'm in the middle of a very important call."

The coworker gave him a puzzled look but stepped away, leaving San to his call. The phone rang a few times before Y/N's voice came through again.

"Hello?" Y/N answered, sounding slightly amused.

San's tone took on a mock-serious edge. "I thought I said not to answer the phone anymore."

Y/N's laughter was evident in her response. "Well then stop calling me!"

San's smile widened at her playful retort. "Fair enough. Enjoy your day, Y/N."

"Thanks again," Y/N replied, her voice warm and genuine. "And don't worry, I'll make sure not to answer the phone again. Unless it's you, of course."

San chuckled, shaking his head as he ended the call. He turned back to his coworker, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Ready for the meeting?" San asked, the earlier tension in his demeanor replaced by a newfound sense of ease.

His coworker nodded, and together they headed toward the meeting room. Despite the busy day ahead, San felt a renewed sense of optimism, buoyed by the light-hearted interaction with Y/N.

Y/N hung up the phone, her face still lit up by the playful conversation she'd just had. As she moved away from the phone, her eyes fell on the dining table where San's card lay in plain sight. She approached it, her fingers grazing the elegant script embossed on the surface.

The card was sleek and simple—black with silver lettering. It had San's name and contact details neatly printed, along with a generous credit limit. Y/N couldn't help but admire the opulence of it all. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands as if it were a precious artifact.

Her thoughts drifted to San's earlier offer. She was both excited and a bit apprehensive about the shopping spree he had suggested. On one hand, it was an opportunity to dress up for the evening and perhaps blend in with the high society that seemed so foreign to her. On the other, it was a reminder of just how different her world was from his.

Determined to make the most of it, she decided to start her day with some retail therapy. Y/N quickly got dressed, opting for something comfortable yet stylish enough for a shopping trip. After a quick glance in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable, she grabbed her phone and the key card to the hotel suite before heading out.

The hotel's lobby, with its glittering chandeliers and polished floors, greeted her once again. This time, she was more composed, but the awe she felt was still evident in her wide eyes. As she walked toward the front desk, she noticed the hotel staff moving around with practiced efficiency. She couldn't help but smile at how everything seemed so perfectly orchestrated.

Y/N approached the concierge desk, where a young woman with a friendly smile awaited her. "Hi, I'm looking to pick up some recommendations for shopping. Could you help me with that?"

The concierge nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! We have some wonderful boutiques and high-end shops nearby. Would you prefer something more classic or trendy?"

Y/N's eyes twinkled with excitement. "Surprise me! I'm open to anything."

The concierge handed her a brochure with a list of recommended stores and pointed out a few key locations. "Here's a list of places you might enjoy. They're all within walking distance."

Y/N thanked her and headed out, clutching the brochure tightly. The day was shaping up to be an adventure, and she was eager to dive into the world of luxury shopping.

As she walked down the bustling streets, she marveled at the high-end shops and their elaborate window displays. Her mind buzzed with possibilities, imagining the various outfits she could choose for the evening.

She decided to start at the most luxurious boutique on the list, where the displays were an art form in themselves.  Y/N entered the boutique, the plush carpet underfoot and the faint scent of luxury surrounding her. The store was everything she had imagined: sleek, elegant, and filled with high-end garments that sparkled under the soft lighting. Her heart raced with excitement as she made her way past rows of designer dresses and tailored suits, each more exquisite than the last.

She was still in awe of the place, taking in the details—the rich fabrics, the intricate designs, the careful arrangement of accessories. Y/N felt like she was in a different world, one that was both mesmerizing and intimidating.

As she browsed through the racks, she couldn't help but notice the occasional sideways glance from the shop staff. Their subtle expressions ranged from puzzled to dismissive, and it was clear they weren't used to someone like her wandering through their pristine aisles.

Y/N tried to ignore the looks, focusing instead on the clothes and the thrill of trying on something new. She picked out a stunning dress—a deep, midnight blue number with delicate beading along the neckline. It felt like a perfect choice for the evening.

When she finally made her way to the fitting rooms, she had high hopes that this would be her chance to feel truly transformed. But when she emerged from the fitting room, feeling more confident in the dress, she realized she needed it in a different size.

With a hopeful smile, Y/N approached one of the sales associates—a tall, impeccably dressed woman who seemed to be in charge. She held up the dress and asked, "Excuse me, do you have this in a size smaller? I also noticed it didn't have the tag on it, could you tell me the price?"

The sales associate looked her up and down with a mixture of disdain and disinterest. "Oh, you probably won't be able to afford it," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Maybe you should try another shop further down the road."

Y/N's face flushed with embarrassment and hurt. She had hoped to find something beautiful for the evening, but instead, she was met with a judgment that stung deeply. She tried to muster a polite smile, but her spirit was already deflated.

"Thank you," Y/N said quietly, turning away from the associate. She felt her heart sink as she walked away, the weight of the encounter pulling her down. The boutique that had once seemed like a wonderland now felt like a cruel reminder of the gap between her world and this one.

The experience had shattered her earlier excitement. She left the store with a heavy heart, the brochure clutched in her hand now feeling like a burden. As she walked down the street, the luxury of the shops seemed to mock her, a world she felt she could never truly belong to.

Y/N strode through the luxurious lobby of the hotel, her pace quick and determined. The high ceilings and opulent decor only made her feel more out of place, but she was focused on reaching the elevator. The polished marble floor seemed to echo her footsteps, and she tried to ignore the lingering looks from the staff. Her mind was still spinning from the unpleasant encounter at the boutique, and she just wanted to get back to her room.

Seonghwa, the hotel manager, stood near the open door of his office, watching her with a keen eye. As Y/N approached, he moved with purpose, intercepting her with practiced ease.

"Excuse me, miss. May I help you?" Seonghwa's voice was smooth but firm, his gaze scrutinizing.

Y/N, her eyes fixed ahead, barely slowed her pace. "I'm going to my room," she said, her tone carrying a note of impatience.

"Uh, do you have a key?" Seonghwa asked, stepping closer.

Y/N halted, turning to face him with a sigh. "Oh. I forgot that cardboard thing. I'm on the top floor," she said, gesturing vaguely.

Seonghwa's brows knitted together. "You're a guest here?"

"I'm with a friend," Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"And who would that be?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment. "San... oh, uh, Choi. Choi San."

Seonghwa's expression shifted to one of skepticism. "Mr. Choi?"

Y/N started to move toward the elevator again, but Seonghwa was quick to follow, placing a hand gently but firmly on her elbow. "Oh, God! What now? What? What?" she muttered, her frustration evident as she was guided away from the elevator.

Seonghwa's demeanor remained calm, but his tone was assertive. "No, no. It's all right. Just come with me. We'll have a little chat." He led her behind the reception desk and into his office, her shoulders slumping slightly as she followed.

The office was neatly arranged, with a green plant sitting in a metal pot by the window. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the carpet. Seonghwa walked over to the plant and began watering it, his movements deliberate. "Uh, what is your name, miss?" he asked as he put the watering can aside.

"Y/N," she said quietly.

"Thank you. Y/N," Seonghwa replied, placing the pot down on the desk and taking a seat on the edge, facing her directly.

"Well, Miss Y/N," Seonghwa began, his tone softening but still authoritative. "Things that go on in other hotels don't happen here. Now, Mr. Choi is a very special customer, and we like to think of our special customers as friends. As a customer, we would expect Mr. Choi to sign in any additional guests. But as a friend, we're willing to overlook it. I'm assuming that you're a..." Seonghwa bent his head slightly, and Y/N mimicked the gesture, her voice barely above a whisper as she replied.

"Relative," she said, her voice tinged with shame.

"Mm-hmmm. I thought so. Then you must be his... cousin," Seonghwa continued, maintaining the same tone.

Y/N nodded, her gaze dropping as she felt the weight of the situation. "Yes," she confirmed.

"Of course. Naturally, when Mr. Choi leaves, I won't see you in this hotel again. I assume you have no other relatives here?"

Y/N shook her head, looking weary. "No, I don't."

"Good. Then we understand each other." Seonghwa's tone was more conciliatory now. "I would also encourage you... to dress a little more appropriately. That'll be all."

Y/N's frustration boiled over. She threw her hands up, her voice rising. "No, that's not all. That's what I was trying to do! I went out to get a dress today, and the women at the store wouldn't help me. And I have all this money now and no dress! Not that I expect you to help me, but I have to buy a dress for dinner tonight. And nobody will help me!"

Seonghwa's expression softened slightly. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a white handkerchief. He handed it to Y/N with a small, sympathetic nod. "Here. Use this."

Y/N took the handkerchief, loudly blowing her nose in a mixture of relief and frustration. Seonghwa walked back to his desk and picked up the telephone.

"Oh, man, if you're calling the cops... You know what, yeah, call the cops. That's great. Tell 'em I said hi," Y/N muttered, still miffed.

Seonghwa didn't seem fazed. "Women's clothing," he said into the phone, his voice calm and authoritative. "Hongjoong, please."

Y/N glanced up, a mix of surprise and hope in her eyes. "Hongjoong?"

Seonghwa continued speaking into the phone, detailing Y/N's situation. "Yes, Hongjoong. Hello. This is Park Seonghwa here at the hotel..... Well, thank you. Yes, but I'd like you to do a favor for me, please. I'm sending someone over. Her name is Y/N. She's a special guest. She's the cousin of a very special guest."

As Seonghwa ended the call, he looked at Y/N with a reassuring smile. "You'll have someone to help you find a dress shortly."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

Seonghwa gave a nod of acknowledgment. "You're welcome. And try to stay calm. We'll get this sorted out."

With that, Y/N left the office, feeling a bit more hopeful. She headed back to the lobby, ready to wait for Hongjoong and hopeful that the day would end on a positive note after all.

Later in the day, the luxurious ambiance of the hotel lobby buzzed with activity. The sun was casting a warm, golden glow through the high windows. Y/N, now feeling a bit more refreshed and composed, settled into one of the plush armchairs by the reception area. The comforting hum of the lobby's ambiance was a stark contrast to her earlier frustration.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call, and Y/N saw it was from San. She took a deep breath, trying to push aside the remnants of her earlier worries. She answered with a cheerful, if slightly forced, tone.

"Hello?"

"Y/N," San's voice came through, smooth and warm. "How's the shopping going? Did you find a dress?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, memories of the boutique's cold reception still fresh. But she decided to keep her frustration to herself, not wanting to dampen the mood. "Oh, actually, yes! I found a really nice dress. It's perfect."

"Really?" San's voice held a note of genuine interest. "I'm glad to hear that. I was worried you might have trouble finding something."

Y/N smiled, relieved to have diverted the conversation from her earlier difficulties. "No trouble at all. I think you'll like it."

"Excellent," San said with satisfaction. "I'll come by to pick you up around six o'clock then. Be ready by then, alright?"

"Got it," Y/N replied, her spirits lifting at the prospect of spending the evening with San. "I'll be ready."

"Great. See you soon," San said before ending the call.

Y/N set her phone down and leaned back in the chair, allowing herself a moment of relaxation. The brief conversation with San had lifted her spirits, and she felt a renewed sense of excitement for the evening ahead. The day's earlier frustrations began to fade, replaced by anticipation for the night's events.

As she prepared for her evening out, she felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The luxury of the dress and the promise of a pleasant evening with San were the highlights of her day. With a final glance at the clock, Y/N began to get ready, determined to make the most of the evening.

San strode into the opulent hotel lobby, his sharp suit slightly rumpled from a meeting that had run longer than anticipated. The grandeur of the space seemed to dim slightly as his gaze swept across the seating area, searching for Y/N. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he was about to pull it out to call Y/N when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned, half-expecting to see a hotel staff member, but instead was greeted by Y/N's familiar voice.

"You're late," she said with a playful lilt.

San's eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of her. She looked stunning, the dress she had chosen clinging to her figure in all the right ways, the deep color contrasting beautifully with her skin. Her hair was styled simply but elegantly, and her makeup accentuated her features without overwhelming them.

He managed a smile, momentarily caught off guard by her appearance. "I'm sorry about that. The meeting ran over. You look fantastic."

Y/N beamed at the compliment, her eyes sparkling with a mix of relief and excitement. "Thanks. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

San chuckled softly. "I wouldn't forget. I was just held up longer than I expected. But now that I'm here, let's get going."

Y/N nodded, and San extended his arm towards her in a gentlemanly gesture. She took it with a smile, and they began to make their way towards the exit. As they walked through the lobby, San glanced over at her, his curiosity piqued.

"So," he said, "how did the rest of your day go? You seemed a bit frazzled earlier."

Y/N gave a small shrug, trying to play down her earlier frustration. "It was... a bit of a rollercoaster. But I'm just glad we're finally heading out."

San nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm glad you found a dress you're happy with."

They continued towards the hotel's grand entrance, the crisp evening air welcoming them as they stepped outside. San guided Y/N to the sleek car waiting by the curb, the driver already standing by with the door open.

As they settled into the car, the interior's luxury cocooned them, offering a momentary escape from the day's earlier stresses. San turned his attention to Y/N, his expression relaxed and attentive.

"So," he said, his tone lighter, "any particular plans or places you've been dying to visit?"

Y/N looked out the window, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "Not really. I'm just excited to enjoy the evening and see where the night takes us."

San smiled, feeling a sense of anticipation himself. "Sounds perfect."

With that, the car pulled away from the hotel, carrying them towards the evening's destination, the promise of an enjoyable night ahead hanging in the air.

The sleek car came to a smooth stop in front of a luxurious restaurant, its grandeur evident in the elegant façade and the soft glow of ambient lighting that cascaded over the entrance. San stepped out first, holding the door open for Y/N, who followed with a graceful step onto the polished stone path leading up to the restaurant.

San adjusted his suit jacket and offered a reassuring smile. "Alright, here's the rundown for tonight. We're meeting with Min Yoongi, a potential business partner. He's quite the tough nut to crack—very discerning and reserved. The dinner is crucial for our negotiations, and I need you to help me make a positive impression."

Y/N nodded, her eyes scanning the impressive exterior of the restaurant. "Got it. What exactly do you need me to do?"

San glanced around, ensuring their arrival hadn't drawn undue attention. "I need you to help keep the atmosphere lively and engaging. Yoongi can be a bit standoffish, so it's important to create an environment where he feels comfortable and willing to open up. Be yourself, and don't hesitate to bring some energy to the table."

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "Sounds like a plan. I'll do my best."

San led her towards the entrance, where a well-dressed host greeted them with a warm smile. After a brief exchange, they led them inside, past the bustling dining area filled with clinking glasses and murmurs of conversation. The restaurant exuded sophistication, with its rich, dark wood paneling and soft, ambient lighting casting a warm glow over the tables.

They arrived at a semi-private dining area, set apart from the main floor by a discreet partition adorned with lush greenery. At the table, Min Yoongi was already seated, his posture relaxed but his expression carefully neutral. He looked up as San and Y/N approached, his gaze flicking over Y/N with a hint of curiosity.

San offered a friendly smile and extended a hand. "Yoongi, it's good to see you. This is Y/N, a good friend of mine. Y/N, this is Min Yoongi."

Yoongi shook San's hand first, then turned his attention to Y/N, offering a polite nod. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

Y/N smiled warmly, her demeanor friendly yet poised. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Min. I've heard great things about you."

Yoongi inclined his head slightly, his eyes lingering on Y/N for a moment before he glanced at San. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to the evening."

San gestured for Y/N to take the seat next to Yoongi, while he settled into his own chair. The dinner began with light conversation, the initial exchanges polite but somewhat formal. As the evening progressed, Y/N made an effort to weave into the conversation, her lively energy providing a welcome contrast to the otherwise reserved atmosphere.

She spoke with enthusiasm about various topics, from recent trends to intriguing anecdotes, her genuine interest and charisma slowly drawing Yoongi out of his shell. San watched with a mixture of relief and satisfaction as Yoongi's demeanor began to shift, his responses becoming more engaged and animated.

By the time the main course was served, the conversation had become more relaxed and engaging, with Yoongi participating more openly. San occasionally exchanged knowing glances with Y/N, appreciating her ability to bring a sense of warmth and approachability to the table.

As the evening continued, the atmosphere at the table became more congenial. San felt a sense of optimism about the potential outcomes of the meeting, grateful for Y/N's invaluable contribution to the evening's success.

As they arrived back at the penthouse, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter, the evening's successful negotiation casting a glow over both San and Y/N. The luxurious elevator ride to the top floor seemed to pass in moments, San's mood visibly buoyed by the evening's success.

Stepping into the penthouse, Y/N kicked off her shoes and shook off the last of the evening's formalities. The expansive space felt even more welcoming in the soft light of the late hour, the grandeur of the earlier day now settling into a cozy elegance.

San moved with a renewed sense of ease, his earlier intensity replaced by a relaxed confidence. He made a beeline for the living area and pulled out his phone, quickly placing an order for a bottle of champagne. The sound of his voice, usually so authoritative, now carried a hint of elation.

Y/N watched him with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look at you, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You must be pretty pleased with how the night went."

San chuckled, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You have no idea. That went better than I could've hoped for. Yoongi was actually quite receptive, thanks to your help."

Y/N's laughter was light and infectious. "I'm just glad I could help. I'll admit, I was a bit nervous at first, but it turned out to be fun. And it looks like you're enjoying the victory!"

San waved a hand dismissively, though his smile didn't waver. "It's not every day you have a successful business dinner. Plus, you were fantastic tonight. Couldn't have done it without you."

As he placed the phone back into his pocket, he caught Y/N's eye and winked. "Now, let's celebrate a little. How does champagne sound?"

Y/N grinned, her earlier fatigue forgotten in the warmth of the evening's success. "Champagne sounds perfect."

San poured two flutes, the bubbles rising swiftly to the top. He handed one to Y/N, raising his glass in a toast. "To a successful evening and to great company."

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her smile broad and genuine. "Cheers to that."

They settled into the plush seating area, the clinking of their glasses and the faint pop of the champagne adding a celebratory note to the room. The ambiance of the penthouse, paired with the relief of a successful negotiation, created a moment of relaxed luxury.

San settled comfortably beside Y/N, the earlier tension of the night melting away. As he sipped from his glass, his gaze softened, his eyes never leaving hers. "I really have to thank you again, Y/N. You were absolutely incredible tonight."

Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, but she couldn't suppress the pleased smile that curved her lips. "Thank you, San. I'm glad I could help."

San leaned in a bit, his voice warm and genuine. "No, seriously. You were amazing. Not only did you look stunning tonight—" he glanced at her with admiration, "—but you also handled the whole situation with such grace. I was genuinely impressed by how effortlessly you adapted. It made a world of difference."

Y/N laughed softly, a hint of modesty in her tone. "Well, I had a great teacher. You made it easy to feel at ease."

San shook his head, still smiling. "It's not just that. You were a natural. The way you engaged with everyone, how you kept the atmosphere lively—it was like you were born for it. And that dress was perfect."

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she looked down, toying with the rim of her glass. "You're making me blush. But I really did enjoy the evening. It was something different."

San's gaze softened further, his eyes reflecting the genuine appreciation he felt. "Well, I'm glad you did. And you know, you don't have to do this just for tonight. If you ever want to join me for any future events—or just for a good conversation—I'd be more than happy to have you around."

Y/N met his gaze, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I'd like that. Thank you for the offer."

As they continued to chat, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the champagne enhancing the ease between them. San's compliments and Y/N's laughter filled the room, creating an intimate and enjoyable end to their evening. The luxurious surroundings seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them and their shared sense of connection and accomplishment.

San and Y/N continued to bask in the afterglow of their successful evening, their conversation a blend of easy laughter and heartfelt compliments. As the champagne glasses were emptied and the conversation began to lull, a comfortable silence settled over them.

San leaned back, his gaze fixed on Y/N with a soft, appreciative smile. "You know," he said, his tone taking on a more intimate quality, "tonight wouldn't have been the same without you." 

Y/N's eyes met his, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. She felt a flutter in her chest, a mix of warmth and anticipation. "I'm glad I could be a part of it," she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

An idea sparked in her mind, and a playful yet determined glint appeared in her eyes. "Actually, I have an idea," she said, her tone light but tinged with purpose.

San raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Without waiting for a response, Y/N shifted closer and straddled his lap, her movements confident but tender. She settled herself comfortably, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. "You've done so many nice things for me tonight," she said, her voice soft but firm. "And I want to pay you back."

San's smile widened, his hands instinctively finding her waist to steady her. "You don't have to do anything, Y/N. What you did for me at dinner was more than enough."

Y/N shook her head, her gaze steady and sincere. "It's not about your business, San. It's about what I want to do for you."

There was a moment of stillness between them, charged with unspoken emotions. Y/N's heart raced as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his. The kiss was gentle at first, exploratory, but quickly deepened as she pressed closer, her hands finding their way to the back of his neck.

San responded with a warmth that matched the intensity of her kiss, his hands moving to cup her face as he pulled her gently against him. The kiss became a dance of emotions, each movement a reflection of the connection they had forged throughout the evening.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other's, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. Y/N's eyes fluttered open to meet his, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I've been wanting to do that," she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and contentment.

San's smile was tender, his eyes filled with affection. "I'm glad you did," he said, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. 

They lingered in the moment, savoring the closeness and the warmth between them. The world outside seemed distant, their focus solely on each other. The silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken promises and shared emotions.

After a few moments, San's eyes sparkled with a playful glint. He broke the silence with a cheeky comment. "You know... I did do a lot of nice things for you recently. I think I'm going to need more payment."

Y/N's laughter bubbled up, a bright and genuine sound that warmed the room. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

San's smile widened, his gaze playful yet sincere. "Definitely. I think you owe me a bit more."

Without missing a beat, Y/N leaned in again, her lips meeting his in another kiss. This time, it was more intense, charged with a deeper passion. Her hands slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, while San's arms wrapped around her, drawing her firmly against him.

The kiss was a mingling of heat and tenderness, their movements synchronizing with an unspoken rhythm. San's lips moved against hers with a fervent urgency, as if savoring every moment, every touch. Y/N's response was equally fervent, her body pressing into his, their breaths quickening.

The intensity of the kiss grew, becoming a dance of passion and desire. Their movements became more insistent, more eager. The space between them seemed to shrink until it was almost non-existent, each touch and caress deepening the connection they felt. The room around them faded, leaving just the two of them lost in their shared moment.

Y/N woke up to the soft caress of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. Her eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the new day. She shifted slightly, becoming acutely aware of the warmth and weight of San's arm wrapped securely around her waist. His legs were intertwined with hers, creating a cocoon of shared warmth.

The sensation of his steady breathing against her neck sent a delightful shiver down her spine, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest both comforting and intimate. As she turned her head slightly to face him, the early sunlight kissed his face, highlighting the relaxed features softened in slumber. His hair fell across his forehead, a few stray strands brushing against his brow.

Y/N couldn't help but smile, her heart swelling with affection. She carefully reached up and tenderly swept the hair away from his face, her fingers grazing his skin in the process. "He sleeps," she whispered softly, her voice a tender murmur meant only for him.

San's breathing was deep and even, his expression serene. The way the morning sun highlighted his features made him look almost ethereal, a calm and perfect moment encapsulated in the quiet of the morning.

Y/N savored this tranquil moment, a gentle contentment filling her as she lay there, wrapped in the comfort of both the morning and San's embrace.

San's phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table, breaking the serene silence of the early morning. The vibration seemed almost intrusive against the peaceful cocoon of warmth and closeness Y/N had found herself enveloped in.

San's eyelids fluttered open, his peaceful expression shifting to one of groggy realization as the ringtone grew more persistent. He stirred, his arm gently slipping away from Y/N's waist as he reached for the offending phone.

"Mmm..." he murmured, his voice rough with sleep as he fumbled for the device. The sunlight continued to bathe the room in a golden glow, adding a soft halo effect to his tousled hair and sleepy eyes.

Y/N, feeling the shift in the atmosphere, tried to ease herself back into a comfortable position. She turned onto her side, attempting to find solace in the residual warmth San had left behind.

San finally managed to answer the call, his voice still heavy with sleep. "Hello?" he said, his tone a mix of irritation and drowsiness.

The conversation on the other end was muffled and distant to Y/N, but it was clear from San's responses that it was work-related. He mumbled a few affirmations, his focus clearly shifting away from the intimate moment they had shared.

Realizing that San was now fully awake and engaged in business, Y/N sat up slowly, pulling the sheets around her. She glanced over at him, her expression a mix of amusement and reluctance to leave the comfort of their shared space.

San ended the call and placed the phone back on the table with a sigh, his eyes meeting Y/N's with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Work never seems to respect personal time."

Y/N smiled softly, her heart warmed by his disheveled charm. "It's alright," she said, her voice gentle. "I was just enjoying the morning."

San's gaze lingered on her with a tender affection. He shifted closer, the warmth of his body inviting. "I hate mornings," he murmured, his tone almost wistful as he wrapped his arms around her once more.

Y/N snuggled back into his embrace, savoring the intimacy of the moment. The bed seemed to cocoon them in a world apart from the outside. San's arms felt secure around her, and his soft breaths against her neck added a soothing rhythm to the quiet morning.

He tilted her face gently towards him, his eyes searching hers with a soft intensity. Without a word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. The contact was tender at first, but it deepened as the moment stretched, each kiss a silent testament to their shared affection and the newness of their closeness.

Y/N closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensation, her fingers resting lightly on San's chest. The kiss was a blend of warmth and promise, a shared heartbeat in the quiet of the morning.

Eventually, with a gentle push, Y/N broke the kiss, her eyes meeting his with a playful glint. "Don't you need to get ready for work?" she asked, her voice a mix of teasing and genuine concern.

San's smile was soft and relaxed. "I don't need to go in until later," he said, his tone almost as if he were reluctant to leave their cozy bubble. "I'd much rather spend this time with you."

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with affection. "Well, in that case, I suppose I can stay a little longer," she said, settling back into his embrace. 

As they lay together, San's fingers gently caressed Y/N's skin, his lips planting soft, lingering kisses on her neck. His touch was soothing, and the intimacy of the moment deepened with each affectionate gesture.

"Tomorrow should be fun," San murmured against her skin. "Yoongi's invited us to this horse racing event. We'll need to dress up a bit more, though. You might need to go shopping again."

Y/N's mood shifted slightly as she recalled her last shopping experience. "Oh, really? The last time I went out, they were quite rude to me."

San's fingers paused in their gentle exploration, his expression turning serious. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes searching hers. "They what?"

Y/N met his gaze, sensing the sudden tension. "Yeah, they treated me like I didn't belong there. I just don't wanna deal with that again."

San's expression hardened, a flicker of anger crossing his face. "That's unacceptable," he said firmly. "No one should ever make you feel like that. Why didn't you tell me?"

Y/N's eyes softened at his protective tone, touched by his concern. "I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

San shook his head, his expression softening but still resolute. "No, it's not okay. I'll take care of it. You deserve to be treated with respect, no matter where you go."

He leaned in and pressed a comforting kiss to her forehead. "We'll find a better place for shopping, and I'll make sure of it." Y/N nodded, feeling reassured by his support. She nestled back into his arms, grateful for his understanding. 

"San, maybe we should just go back home. Really, it wasn't a big deal," Y/N said softly as they walked up to the entrance of the upscale boutique. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, trying to downplay the discomfort that lingered from her last shopping trip.

San glanced at her, his brows knitting together slightly. "No," he replied firmly but with a gentle tone. "You deserve to feel good when you shop, and you deserve to be treated right." He placed his hand over hers reassuringly. Y/N exhaled softly and nodded. She appreciated how San always seemed to know what to say to comfort her. Together, they stepped through the door of the boutique.

Immediately, several of the store's employees took notice of San. Their eyes widened with recognition, and within moments, a few of them rushed forward with welcoming smiles, eager to assist. "Mr. Choi! What a pleasure to have you here. How can we assist you today?" one of the women chirped, practically fawning over him.

San smiled politely but quickly redirected their attention. "Thank you, but we're shopping for her actually. You see, she's very important to me, and she needs a few outfits for the week. I'd appreciate it if you could give her the attention she deserves."

The employees' gazes shifted to Y/N, their demeanor subtly adjusting. The sudden shift in attitude was obvious, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a bit awkward under their scrutiny. But with San beside her, she stood a little taller, finding comfort in his presence.

"Of course," the woman said, smiling warmly at Y/N now. "We'll make sure you find something perfect. Here, take a seat and we'll pull some pieces for you."

San gave Y/N an encouraging nod, his hand lightly squeezing hers. "Take your time," he said softly. "Anything you need, we'll make sure you have it."

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart fluttering with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered before turning her attention to the store, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. This time, things would be different, and it was all because of San.

As Y/N sifted through racks of elegant clothing, the employees diligently pulled out dresses, blouses, and skirts, eager to present her with the best of what they had to offer. They were attentive and eager to please, showing her pieces of every style and color. Y/N, though trying to focus, couldn't help but occasionally glance toward San.

He stood a little further back in the store, his phone glued to his ear as he juggled work calls and glanced over documents he'd brought with him. Despite his distraction, every few minutes, he'd look up, meeting Y/N's gaze as she tried on different outfits. When she caught his eye, she'd gesture towards the clothing with a subtle motion, silently asking his opinion.

Some outfits earned a simple shake of his head, others got a nod of approval. A few earned a raised eyebrow, and occasionally, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips as their silent communication flowed seamlessly. Y/N felt a warmth in her chest whenever their eyes connected, a quiet reassurance in the midst of the boutique's bustling energy.

The boutique's manager, clearly aware of San's presence and status, made several attempts to approach him. Each time she sidled up to him with offers of coffee, praise for his taste, and promises of exclusive deals, she seemed more focused on impressing him than helping Y/N.

After the third or fourth attempt, San, now slightly irritated, put down his phone mid-call. His gaze, though composed, was sharp as he looked at the manager. "It's her whose ass you need to kiss, not mine," he said plainly, nodding toward Y/N, who was engrossed in the selection in front of her.

The manager blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the blunt comment, but quickly composed herself, offering a flustered but polite smile before scurrying back toward Y/N with renewed enthusiasm.

San picked up his phone again, his expression softening as he watched Y/N for a moment longer before returning to his business matters. As San scrolled through yet another email on his phone, his screen lit up with an incoming call from Sung-Ho, his assistant. He sighed and answered, already suspecting what the conversation would be about.

"San," Sung-Ho's voice came through, direct as always. "I hate to interrupt, but you're needed at the office before we can officially wrap up for the day. There's been a minor complication with the new acquisition deal."

San pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing over at Y/N, who was now trying on a deep emerald gown that perfectly accentuated her figure. He could tell from the way she admired herself in the mirror that she liked this one. She caught his eye again, gesturing for his opinion. He smiled, giving her an appreciative nod before turning back to the phone.

"Alright, I'll be there soon," San replied, trying to keep his tone calm, though there was a flicker of frustration. He ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket before walking over to where Y/N stood, still examining herself in the gown. He reached out and gently touched her arm to get her attention.

"Hey," San said softly, giving her a small smile. "I need to head to the office for a bit. Something came up, but I'll pick you up in a little while, okay?"

Y/N turned to face him, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding. "Oh, okay," she replied, a hint of disappointment in her tone, though she quickly masked it with a smile.

San reached into his jacket and pulled out his sleek black card, handing it to her. "Here," he said, "take your time and pick whatever you want. Don't hold back, alright? And if you need anything at all—anything—just let them know. I've already made it clear that they should take care of you."

Y/N took the card from his hand, feeling the weight of it between her fingers. She looked up at him, warmth in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

San turned to the manager, his expression shifting back to serious business. "Make sure she gets everything she wants," he instructed firmly, "and I mean everything."

The manager nodded eagerly, clearly flustered and eager to please. "Of course, Mr. Choi. We'll take excellent care of her."

San shot one last affectionate glance at Y/N before heading toward the exit. "I won't be long," he promised. "See you soon."

As he left, Y/N watched him go, a smile tugging at her lips. Despite the interruption, she couldn't help but appreciate how San made sure she was well taken care of. 

San and Y/N arrived at the horse racing field, the buzz of excitement in the air as people milled about, enjoying the lively atmosphere. Arm in arm, they walked past the entrance, their presence drawing attention from onlookers who whispered about the handsome businessman and the stunning woman at his side.

San, dressed in a tailored suit that perfectly accentuated his broad shoulders and confident stature, looked down at Y/N with a soft smile as they strolled together. Y/N, equally captivating in her new dress, moved with elegance and poise, her arm linked with his, making them appear every bit the powerful couple.

The field stretched out before them, lush green and vibrant under the afternoon sun. Colorful jockeys and sleek thoroughbreds paraded around in preparation for the race. The grandstands were packed with spectators, their chatter and laughter blending with the distant sound of galloping horses.

San leaned down slightly to speak to Y/N over the din of the crowd. "It's quite the scene, huh? I don't think I've been to one of these in years."

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's incredible," she replied, her voice filled with awe as she took in the grand spectacle around them. "I've never seen anything like this."

As they walked toward the VIP section, San's grip on her arm tightened slightly, a subtle sign of his protectiveness in the midst of the bustling crowd. They made their way through the people with ease, heads turning as they passed, but the two of them were wrapped up in their own world, the noise around them fading into a distant hum.

When they reached the exclusive seating area, San pulled out a chair for Y/N before taking his own seat beside her. The excitement of the upcoming race and the thrill of being there together settled over them, but there was also a certain quietness, a sense that they were enjoying just being in each other's presence.

As San and Y/N settled into their seats, the sound of footsteps approaching caught their attention. San looked up to see Sung-Ho, one of his most trusted associates, making his way toward them with a broad smile on his face. Beside him was a woman, elegantly dressed, her delicate features framed by soft waves of dark hair. She seemed the picture of poise and innocence, her eyes sparkling as she approached.

"San!" Sung-Ho called out, extending his hand for a firm handshake. "It's good to see you here. I didn't know you were a fan of the races."

San stood up, returning the handshake with a polite smile. "It's been a while, but Mr. Min invited us to join him," he replied smoothly, his tone warm yet measured. His eyes flicked briefly to the woman at Sung-Ho's side before returning to his associate.

Sung-Ho noticed the subtle glance and quickly gestured to his companion. "San, you remember my wife, Min-ji," he said with a light laugh.

Min-ji offered a graceful nod, her smile sweet and unassuming. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Choi. Sung-Ho always speaks so highly of you."

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Han," San responded politely, though his tone remained professional. He then turned slightly to include Y/N in the conversation. "Here, let me introduce you. This here is Y/N," he introduced, a touch of pride in his voice as he mentioned her name.

Y/N offered a warm smile and a polite nod, her demeanor effortlessly charming. "Nice to meet you," she said softly.

Sung-Ho's eyes widened slightly as he took in Y/N's appearance. It was clear that he hadn't expected to see San with someone so striking, especially since San had never mentioned anything about being involved with anyone. "Well, this is a surprise," Sung-Ho said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. "San, you never told me you'd found someone. Y/N, you must be very special if you've managed to capture his attention."

San chuckled, his arm subtly resting on the back of Y/N's chair as he looked at Sung-Ho. "Some things are better left as pleasant surprises," he said, his words carrying a dual meaning that wasn't lost on Sung-Ho.

Min-ji's gaze flickered between San and Y/N, her expression polite but observant. "It's always nice to meet new people," she said, her voice soft and almost demure. "I'm sure the two of you will enjoy the race today."

"Indeed," San replied, his smile unwavering as he glanced at Y/N, then back at Sung-Ho and Min-ji. "We're looking forward to it."

Sung-Ho nodded, though the surprise still lingered in his eyes. He exchanged a brief look with Min-ji before turning back to San. "Well, we won't keep you. We just wanted to come over and say hello," he said, his tone as friendly as ever, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity in his gaze.

"Enjoy the race," Min-ji added with a sweet smile, though her eyes held a subtle sharpness as she looked at Y/N.

"Thank you. We will," Y/N replied, maintaining her warm demeanor as the couple turned to leave.

As they walked away, San leaned in closer to Y/N, his voice low and amused. "I think we caught them off guard," he said with a grin, the subtle tension of the encounter now dissipating.

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand finding its way to San's. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the lively atmosphere of the racetrack. "San!" Min Yoongi called out, his tone warm and welcoming.

San turned, his eyes lighting up as Yoongi approached, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Yoongi," San greeted, standing up to shake his hand. "Good to see you."

Yoongi's smile widened as his gaze shifted to Y/N. "And you brought Y/N! I'm delighted," he said, his tone sincere. "I enjoyed her company so much at dinner the other night. It's nice to see you here, Y/N."

Y/N returned the smile, feeling at ease with Yoongi's friendly demeanor. "Thank you, Mr. Min. It's nice to be here."

The three of them exchanged easy conversation, Yoongi's natural charm making the interaction comfortable and lighthearted. He spoke animatedly about the races, adding a few anecdotes that made Y/N laugh.

After a few moments, Y/N glanced at San and said, "I'm feeling a bit thirsty."

San immediately stood. "I'll get us some drinks," he offered, his tone warm. "Anything specific you want?"

"Just some water would be nice," Y/N replied with a grateful smile.

San nodded and turned to Yoongi. "I'll be back in just a moment."

Yoongi chuckled. "Of course. We'll be just fine."

As San made his way toward the small bar set up on the field, the sun casting a golden hue over the lively crowd, Sung-Ho spotted him and walked over, his pace casual but his expression laced with curiosity.

"Hey man," Sung-Ho greeted again, his tone still polite but carrying an air of something deeper as he stopped beside him. "Got a minute?"

San raised an eyebrow but nodded, his usual composed smile never faltering. "Sure, what's up?"

Sung-Ho glanced back briefly toward where Y/N and Yoongi were still engaged in conversation before turning his attention back to San. "I wanted to ask you about Y/N," he began, his tone just a shade too casual. "You've never mentioned her before. How did the two of you meet?"

San gave a measured smile, keeping his response light. "We crossed paths a little while ago. Things just... clicked."

Sung-Ho hummed, his skepticism more apparent now as he leaned in a little closer. "She seems... different," he remarked, the subtle weight of his words hanging in the air. "Not exactly someone I'd expect to see with you."

San's expression didn't waver, but there was an underlying edge in his tone when he responded. "In what way?"

Sung-Ho raised his hands slightly in mock surrender, his lips curling into a smirk. "I wasn't implying anything. I'm just looking out for you, that's all."

San felt his patience beginning to wear thin as Sung-Ho's questions became more pointed, the subtle skepticism turning into something more intrusive.

 Sung-Ho's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What does she do for a living anyway? Is she from around here?"

San clenched his jaw subtly, trying to maintain his usual composed demeanor, but the prodding was beginning to grate on him. "She's private about her life," San replied evenly. "And I respect that."

Sung-Ho didn't seem satisfied with the vague answer. "Come on, San," he pressed. "You can't just show up with someone like her and not expect people to ask questions. What's she hiding?"

San's frustration bubbled up, his lips tightening into a thin line. He knew this would happen sooner or later, but he wasn't prepared for how much it annoyed him—how invasive Sung-Ho was being about something that, frankly, was none of his business. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"She's a prostitute."

Sung-Ho blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The revelation hung in the air for a beat, San's voice almost surprising even himself. But once the shock registered in Sung-Ho's eyes, it quickly faded into something else—a gross sense of amusement and intrigue.

"Really?" Sung-Ho's tone dropped to something sleazy as he patted San on the back, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You sly dog. I didn't expect that from you, of all people."

San's stomach twisted as Sung-Ho leaned in closer, his voice lowering to something conspiratorial. "That must be quite the arrangement," he said with a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of sleaze and curiosity. "I mean, what's she like? I always figured those girls would be... you know... pretty open to whatever."

San's hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. Sung-Ho's disgusting comments made his skin crawl, and he fought back the urge to lash out. His voice, when he spoke, was tight and controlled, though anger simmered just beneath the surface.

"Sung-Ho," San said evenly, his voice dangerously low, "don't talk about her like that."

The shift in San's tone caught Sung-Ho off guard, and his grin faltered for a moment. "Hey, hey," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, trying to backpedal, "I was just messing around. No need to get all worked up."

San's eyes hardened, his patience finally snapping. "She's not some joke for you to make disgusting comments about. If you can't respect that, then this conversation is over."

Sung-Ho straightened up, the tension between them palpable. For a moment, his expression was unreadable—caught somewhere between annoyance and surprise. But ultimately, he chose not to push further. With a small, insincere chuckle, he shrugged and backed off.

"Alright, alright," Sung-Ho said with a placating smile. "Didn't mean to offend you, man."

San didn't respond, just giving a curt nod before turning away. As he walked back toward Y/N, drink in hand, he couldn't shake the lingering discomfort in his chest. Sung-Ho's words stuck with him like oil clinging to his skin, but seeing Y/N's bright smile as she laughed with Yoongi melted some of that tension away.

San returned to Y/N with a composed expression, but the tightness in his shoulders betrayed the tension still clinging to him. As he handed her the water, his fingers brushed hers, and for a split second, he let his guard down just enough for her to notice.

Yoongi had shifted his focus to the race, the excitement building on the track as the horses were about to start. Y/N, however, wasn't as easily distracted. She stole a glance at San, noticing the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly, and the way his gaze seemed distant, unfocused. Something was wrong, and she could feel it.

Her hand slipped into his, resting on his lap, her thumb tracing gentle circles on his skin. "Is everything alright?" she asked softly, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

San's instinct was to lie. It was always easier to shield his emotions, to push them aside and pretend everything was fine. So, he offered her a small smile and nodded. "Yeah," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "It's all good."

But Y/N wasn't convinced. She knew him well enough to catch the subtle signs—the stiffness in his posture, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. She didn't push, though. Instead, she leaned in closer, her shoulder resting against his, offering quiet comfort without demanding an explanation.

San felt a rush of gratitude as her warmth settled beside him. Even though she didn't press him further, he knew she understood that something had bothered him. Her silent support, her presence alone, was enough to ease some of the weight that had settled in his chest. 

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the fading day, Y/N stood by San's car, idly fanning herself with a small floral fan she'd picked up earlier. The heat had clung to the air all afternoon, and though she was used to it by now, a gentle breeze would've been a welcome relief. She glanced over at San, still deep in conversation with a business partner, his usual composed expression in place as he wrapped up their day at the races.

Just as Y/N's attention began to wander, a shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Sung-Ho approaching. His smile was easy, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made her uneasy. She held her fan a little tighter, though she kept her own smile in place, her polite mask never faltering.

"Y/N, right?" Sung-Ho greeted, his tone light, though it carried that same subtle weight as earlier. "Enjoying the day?"

Y/N nodded, keeping her voice pleasant. "It's been nice, thank you."

Sung-Ho stopped a few feet in front of her, his gaze sweeping over her as if appraising. "I didn't get a chance to speak with you earlier," he said, a note of casual familiarity creeping into his tone. "But I wanted to introduce myself properly. I'm Sung-Ho, one of San's longtime business partners."

Y/N gave a polite nod, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Yes, I remember. It's nice to meet you."

Sung-Ho seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. He glanced back briefly toward San, still deep in conversation, before returning his attention to Y/N. "You and San seem close," he said, his voice taking on an almost probing quality. "I didn't realize he was seeing someone new."

Y/N's brow furrowed slightly, sensing something off in his tone. She maintained her polite demeanor, though there was a growing discomfort in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, we've been spending time together," she said carefully, not offering more than necessary.

Sung-Ho's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. He took a step closer, lowering his voice as if to share a secret. "I have to admit," he said with a sly grin, "I was surprised when San mentioned... what you do for a living. Not exactly what I'd expect from someone like him."

Y/N stiffened, the words hitting her like a sudden gust of wind. Her grip tightened on the fan, but she kept her expression steady, refusing to let him see the sting his words caused. "And what exactly did he say?"

Sung-Ho's smirk grew a little wider, his gaze almost predatory. "Oh, nothing too specific. Just... some insights." His voice dripped with insinuation, as if he were dangling something unsaid between them.

Y/N held his gaze firmly, refusing to let him intimidate her. "I'm not sure what you're getting at," she said, her voice calm, though there was an underlying edge. "But whatever you think you know, it's none of your business."

Sung-Ho chuckled, seemingly unbothered by her response. "Relax, I'm just curious," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "After all, I've known San for a long time, and I've never seen him with someone like you before."

Before Y/N could respond, a voice cut through the air. "Sung-Ho," San's tone was firm, controlled, but with a distinct edge. He had finished his conversation and now stood a few steps behind Sung-Ho, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked between them. "Is there a reason you're bothering her?"

Sung-Ho turned, startled, his easy smile faltering for just a moment. But he quickly recovered, giving San a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Oh, just chatting," he said casually. "Didn't mean to overstep."

San didn't smile. He stepped closer to Y/N, his presence immediately protective. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you left her alone," he said, his voice even but with an unmistakable warning.

Sung-Ho held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin returning as if nothing had happened. "No harm done, right?" He winked at Y/N before turning to walk away, leaving an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air.

San watched him go, his jaw clenched. When he finally turned back to Y/N, his expression softened. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. San's gaze softened as he looked at Y/N, but before he could ask again if she was alright, he noticed the way her jaw was clenched, her body tense.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

Y/N pulled away slightly, her hand resting on her hip as she let out a quiet but sharp breath. "Why did you tell him?" she asked, her voice low, though it carried the unmistakable edge of hurt and frustration.

San blinked, caught off guard. "Tell him what?"

Y/N met his eyes, her own simmering with emotion. "About me. About what I do."

Realization dawned on San's face, and his stomach sank. He stepped closer, his hands reaching out instinctively, but she took a small step back. "Y/N, I—"

"No," she interrupted, her voice firmer this time. "You don't get to explain it away." She shook her head, trying to hold back the rising frustration. "It's no one's business, San. No one's."

San frowned, clearly not expecting this reaction. "I didn't mean to—"

"But you did," Y/N shot back, her voice quiet but heavy with emotion. "And now, every time someone finds out, they stop seeing me as... me. It's like I become this... thing to them. Sung-Ho looked at me like I was some new toy he couldn't wait to unwrap." She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "And you're the one who told him. You're the one who put me in that position."

San's chest tightened with guilt. "Y/N, I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't think he'd react that way. I just—"

"You just what?" Y/N snapped, her anger bubbling over now. "Thought it wouldn't matter? Thought he'd just ignore it? Well, it doesn't work like that, San."

San opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. He wanted to fix it, to take back what he'd said, but he couldn't. He could only stand there, helplessly watching the pain in her eyes.

Y/N crossed her arms, her voice thick with a mix of anger and sadness. "I just want to go home," she said quietly, the fight leaving her as she looked away, her shoulders slumping.

San's heart ached seeing her like this, and all he wanted to do was reach out and comfort her, but he knew he'd messed up. He nodded slowly, his voice subdued. "Okay," he said softly. "Let's go home."

Without another word, Y/N climbed into the car, her silence louder than any argument they could have had. San followed, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on him, and as they drove away from the racetrack, the tension between them lingered, unspoken but heavy.

The drive was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. And as they pulled up to the apartment, San couldn't help but steal a glance at her, hoping for some sign that things would be okay. But Y/N didn't look at him. She stepped out of the car, her expression distant, and headed inside without waiting for him.

Y/N stormed ahead of San the entire walk back to the penthouse, her silence sharp and cutting. The moment they stepped inside, she made a beeline for the bedroom, throwing open the closet and dresser drawers with fury as she began stuffing her belongings into the small bag she had brought with her.

San followed closely behind, his voice desperate as he pleaded, "Y/N, can we just talk about this? Please."

She didn't pause, didn't even glance in his direction. "Oh, now you want to talk?" she shot back, her voice brittle with anger. "If you were going to tell everyone I'm a hooker, why didn't you just let me wear my own clothes, huh? At least then, when some creep like Sung-Ho comes at me, I know how to handle it. I'm prepared for it." Her hands moved frantically, shoving clothes into her bag, as if packing was the only thing keeping her together.

San winced at her words, guilt gnawing at him. "I'm sorry," he repeated softly, following her around the room as she paced. "I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't!" Y/N cut him off, her eyes blazing as she zipped up the bag with finality. "You think you can just pass me around to your friends like I'm some kind of toy? I'm not yours to flaunt!"

She swept past him, her fury palpable, and headed into the living room. San was quick on her heels, his frustration rising as she continued to shut him out. "You're not my toy, and I know that! But let's not pretend here, Y/N. You are a hooker. And, for now, you're my employee."

His words hung in the air, biting and cruel. Y/N froze, her hands clenching into fists as she faced him, tears welling in her eyes despite her best efforts to contain them. "You don't get to own me," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. "I decide. I say who. I say when. I... I say who..." Her voice faltered, breaking under the weight of her emotions.

San's frustration boiled over. "I refuse to spend the next few days arguing like this! I said I'm sorry. I meant it. Can't that be enough?"

Y/N stared at him, blinking away her tears, her voice quiet but filled with devastation. "I should never have gotten into your goddamn car."

Her words pierced through him like a blade. San could feel the walls crumbling around them, but before he could respond, Y/N turned back to the bedroom, retrieving her packed bags. She re-entered the living room with a determined stride, her eyes sharp despite the tears that still clung to her lashes.

"I've never felt as cheap as I did today," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder. "And that's because of you."

San took a step closer, panic rising in his chest. "Where are you going?"

Y/N didn't hesitate, her eyes hardening as she spoke, "I want my money. I'm done. I'm going home."

San stood frozen, watching Y/N storm around the apartment with frantic determination, collecting everything she needed as if being near him for even a moment longer was unbearable. His heart pounded in his chest, each second ticking by, feeling like he was losing her piece by piece.

"I'm going down to the lobby," Y/N announced coldly, her eyes barely glancing at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "One of the bellhops will help me get all this shit out of here."

She moved swiftly toward the hall doors, her footsteps echoing in the space as she left the apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut behind her snapped San out of his daze. Panic surged through him as he rushed after her, his breath uneven, desperate to catch up.

He found her standing in front of the elevator, the numbers above the door slowly ticking down as she waited in stony silence. She didn't acknowledge his presence as he came up behind her, but he didn't care. He couldn't let her leave like this.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice strained and pleading. She didn't turn around. He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his heart in his throat. "I'm sorry."

She stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the elevator doors.

"I wasn't prepared to answer questions about us," San continued, his voice trembling with the weight of his regret. "It was stupid and cruel of me to say what I did. I didn't mean any of it. I was... I was caught off guard, and I reacted like an idiot."

The elevator dinged softly, but Y/N didn't move, her hand gripping the strap of her bag tightly.

San reached out, gently taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Please don't go. I don't want you to leave." His voice cracked, the vulnerability clear in his words. "I need you here with me. I'll do better. Just... please."

For a moment, Y/N didn't say anything, her eyes still focused ahead. Then, slowly, she turned to look at him, her expression unreadable as she studied his face. The elevator doors slid open behind her, but neither of them moved to step inside.

San waited, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping that this wasn't the end. Y/N's voice was soft, yet heavy with the weight of her emotions. She turned fully to face him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she finally spoke, her words cutting through the air like a blade.

"You hurt me," she whispered.

The depth of her pain, so clear in those few words, struck San like a blow to the chest. He felt his heart drop, guilt flooding every part of him. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, his eyes searching hers, desperate to find the right thing to say—anything that could undo the damage.

"I know," he whispered back, his voice thick with remorse. "I know. I never wanted to hurt you."

Y/N swallowed, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to loosen just a bit as she listened to the sincerity in his voice. There was still hurt, still the sharp sting of betrayal.

San stepped closer, lifting her chin gently so she could look him in the eyes. "I'm not perfect. I'm going to screw up, but I don't want to lose you, not yet. Not like this."

Y/N held his gaze, the conflict of emotions still swirling within her. She felt torn between the pain that lingered and the undeniable connection she had with him. The thought of walking away hurt just as much as staying.

She took a deep breath, the heaviness still there but with a flicker of hope. "This can't happen again."

San nodded, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. "It won't. I promise."

The elevator doors had long since closed, leaving the two of them standing in the quiet hallway, their hearts laid bare between them.

San and Y/N lay together in the tub, the warm water enveloping them in a soothing embrace. Y/N's back rested comfortably against San's chest, his arms wrapped securely around her, offering both warmth and support. Her fingers traced gentle patterns along his arm, the rhythmic motion calming them both.

The soft hum of the water mixed with their quiet conversation, creating a cocoon of intimacy and trust. San's voice was gentle as he spoke, his words barely more than a murmur. "How did you end up in the industry? If you don't mind me asking."

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice reflecting the vulnerability she felt as she opened up. "It's not something I like talking about," she began, her tone laden with regret. "But I guess you deserve to know. It all started when I was struggling to find a job. Seoyeon—she was a friend, though I use the term loosely now—she introduced me to it."

San's arms tightened around her slightly, a protective gesture as she spoke. His heart ached as he listened, each word from Y/N painting a clearer picture of her struggles. She continued, her voice growing softer, tinged with bitterness.

"She was having a hard time too, and she knew I was desperate. I didn't have many options, and she made it seem like it was just a temporary thing, a way to make ends meet until something better came along." Y/N paused, her fingers stilling on his arm. "But things didn't get better. The longer I stayed in it, the more I hated it. I hate everything about it—the judgment, the loss of dignity... It's not who I am, not who I want to be."

San's heart ached for her, the weight of her confession settling heavily on his chest. He held her closer, his chin resting gently on her shoulder as he absorbed her words. The empathy in his eyes was palpable, a silent testament to the pain he felt for her.

"You don't deserve any of this," San said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You're so much more than what you've had to go through. I see so much potential in you—so much more than what this world has given you."

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as she listened, the warmth of his words washing over her. "Thank you, San. For everything."

San kissed her temple softly, his arms tightening around her in silent reassurance. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. 

Y/N smiled faintly, though the sadness still lingered in her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. “You've been so kind to me. I don't know how I can every repay you. ”

San shook his head gently, his expression soft and full of care. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. This isn’t about repayment.”

She turned slightly in his arms, her eyes searching his face as if looking for something deeper. “But you’ve done so much,” she said quietly. “You didn’t have to help me, but you did. I... I’ve never had anyone treat me like you do.”

San gently cupped Y/N’s face, his thumb tracing delicate circles over her cheek as his gaze held hers. The intensity in his eyes was soft yet profound, like he was baring his soul without needing to say more. “That’s because no one has ever truly looked at you the way I do,” he whispered, his voice warm and tender. His hand slid down to rest at the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as if he needed to keep her close. “I want you to see yourself the way I see you—strong, beautiful, worthy of every good thing.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the raw emotion in his words unraveling something inside her. She brought her hands up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. That connection, that grounding warmth, sent a surge of emotion through her, making her feel both vulnerable and cherished.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing sync with her own. "San..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion she didn’t yet have words for.

San's arms wrapped around her more tightly, pulling her against him as though he could shield her from every painful memory that had weighed her down. He pressed his lips to her forehead, letting them linger in a slow, affectionate kiss. “You deserve the world,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. 

Y/N felt the words sink in, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe it. She tilted her head up slightly, her lips brushing softly against his in a kiss that was more than just a meeting of lips—it was a promise, a shared moment of understanding that bound them closer.

San deepened the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle her face as though she were something precious and fragile. The kiss was slow and unhurried, filled with affection that made her heart swell and flutter. When they finally parted, both of them breathless, Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears—but for the first time, they were tears of hope rather than sorrow.

With San’s arms still securely around her, she felt safe, loved, and for once, as though maybe she truly could have more. She let herself melt into his embrace, nuzzling into the curve of his neck as she whispered, “Thank you for seeing me.”

San rested his cheek against her hair, his voice soft and full of affection. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

San had endured an exhausting day at the office—one of those relentless stretches of time where the hours bled together, filled with endless meetings, negotiations, and phone calls that left his mind buzzing. By the time he returned home, he felt utterly drained, craving nothing but the solace of solitude. The weight of the day clung to him like an invisible burden, pulling at his shoulders as he slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie. Without a word, he made his way out to the balcony, the cool evening air offering some respite from the heaviness in his chest.

The night sky stretched above him like an endless canvas of stars, their soft twinkling somehow calming. He let out a long breath, allowing the tension to ebb as he listened to the quiet hum of soft music playing from his phone—a gentle tune that matched the serenity of the moment. It was exactly what he needed—no conversation, no obligations. Just a few stolen minutes to himself, where the world outside could fall away.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/N had been waiting in the bedroom, eager to surprise him. She had slipped into something sultry and elegant, hoping to catch his eye and offer him some relief after his long day. But as the night wore on and still no sign of him, she began to wonder if something was wrong. She sighed, slipping on a robe to cover the revealing outfit she had chosen. She tried not to let the disappointment settle in, reminding herself that he’s probably held up at work.

Hoping to distract herself, Y/N wandered into the kitchen in search of a snack. The quiet hum of the refrigerator and the low lighting created a peaceful ambiance, but it didn’t stop her mind from wandering. She munched on her snack absentmindedly as she wandered back down the hall, but something made her pause as she passed by the living room. The soft glow of the night sky outside caught her attention, and when she looked toward the balcony, she saw San there—sitting alone, staring up at the stars.

He was leaning on the railing, his gaze cast upward to the stars, the soft strains of music reaching her ears. He looked so still, so serene—but there was a weariness in the set of his shoulders, a weight she could almost feel from where she stood. She paused for a moment, her snack forgotten, watching him quietly.

Her heart squeezed as she realized how much he had on his shoulders. His job, his responsibilities—everything seemed to press down on him, demanding more and more of his time and energy. He looked so strong, yet in this quiet moment, he seemed vulnerable, as though he needed the night sky to keep him grounded.

Y/N slowly approached the glass doors, her hand resting lightly on the handle as she watched him, unsure whether to disturb him or leave him to his thoughts. She knew he needed this time to unwind, but a part of her couldn’t help wanting to comfort him, to be close to him.

After a moment of hesitation, she softly slid open the door and stepped outside. The cool breeze kissed her skin as she stood there for a beat, waiting to see if he would notice her presence. San didn’t turn around, still lost in his own world, but she could tell by the slight shift in his posture that he sensed her nearby.

Quietly, she moved closer, her bare feet barely making a sound against the balcony floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, the robe falling loosely around her as she came to stand beside him, her eyes tracing the same stars he had been gazing at. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the night air carrying with it a peaceful silence.

Finally, Y/N turned her head to look at him, her voice soft when she broke the stillness. “Hey,” she whispered, as if not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment. “Are you alright?”

San turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. His eyes were tired, but they softened when they landed on her. He took in the sight of her standing beside him, her robe falling open just slightly to reveal a glimpse of the outfit she had planned for him. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and calm, though she could hear the exhaustion beneath it. He reached out, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just… needed some air. Needed to clear my head.”

Y/N nodded, understanding. She slipped her hand into his, her fingers threading through his as she leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. They stood like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the stars twinkling above them like silent witnesses to their connection.

“I was waiting for you,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. 

San’s grip on her hand tightened slightly as he turned to face her fully, his expression softening even more. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Y/N smiled faintly, shaking her head. “It’s alright. I just—wanted to see if you were okay.”

San looked down at her, a flicker of warmth passing through the haze of his exhaustion. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as they stood in the quiet intimacy of the balcony. The city below hummed with distant noise, but up here, in this moment, it felt like the world had paused just for them.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against her temple. “I just needed some time to unwind.”

Y/N tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with understanding. “I get it,” she whispered. “Do you need anything?”

San's eyes softened even more at her question, the sincerity in her voice reaching him deeply. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he thought about how to respond. “Just you,” he murmured, his voice carrying a tenderness that contrasted with the weight of his day.

Y/N smiled gently, her hand coming up to rest against his chest. “You’ve got me,” she whispered in return, her touch soothing him more than any words ever could.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I know,” he whispered back, his lips lingering there for a moment as if drawing comfort from her presence. For a moment, they simply stood together, wrapped up in each other as the night air swirled around them. Y/N could feel the tension slowly draining from San’s body as he held her close, his breathing becoming steadier.

“Come inside,” Y/N coaxed gently, her voice soft but insistent. “Let’s get some rest.”

San hesitated for a moment, glancing up at the stars one last time before nodding. He turned toward her, his hand still in hers, and together they walked back into the warmth of the apartment, leaving the worries of the day behind them.

San allowed Y/N to guide him back into the apartment, her hand never leaving his. There was something soothing about her presence, like she could absorb all the tension he carried and replace it with calm. As they reached the bedroom, Y/N suddenly pulled away and gave him a playful push toward the bed.

"Alright, mister, you’re going to lie down and let me take care of you," she said, her voice filled with mock sternness as she bustled around the room.

San chuckled softly, watching her with amused eyes. "Oh? And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Y/N flashed him a mischievous grin before walking over to the dresser, where she grabbed the remote. She switched on the TV and started flipping through the channels until she landed on his favorite show—one he'd only mentioned to her once in passing during a random conversation.

San blinked in surprise. "Wait, you actually remembered that?"

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a hint of pride in her smile. "Of course, I did. I pay attention, you know. Now, you relax and watch your show."

San laid back against the pillows, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So bossy."

Y/N turned to grab her phone, already pulling up a food delivery app. "I'm also ordering dinner, your favorite."

San raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into a teasing smirk. "Oh, so you’re pampering me by spending my money? I see how it is."

Y/N shot him a playful glare as she tapped her phone, confirming the order. "Hey, taking care of you isn't cheap. And besides," she added with a cheeky grin, "it’s your money, might as well put it to good use."

San laughed, shaking his head. "Touché."

Y/N sat down beside him on the bed, crossing her arms with a satisfied look. "Exactly. Now, let me spoil you for once."

San reached over and pulled her into his side, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. "Alright, alright. But don't get too used to this—I'm the one who's supposed to be spoiling you."

Y/N snuggled into him, a content smile on her face. "We'll see about that."

Later in the night, after their food was long gone and the remnants of a few glasses of alcohol sat on the nightstand, San and Y/N found themselves tangled together under the covers. The TV droned on in the background, but neither of them paid it much attention. San, still dressed in his business attire—minus his tie, jacket, and shoes—held Y/N close, her head resting on his chest, her robe still wrapped tightly around her.

As they lay there, San shifted slightly, glancing down at her with a curious look. “Why are you still wearing that robe? Aren't you hot?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Y/N shrugged, keeping her face nestled against him. “I’m comfortable,” she replied nonchalantly, trying to brush it off. She knew he’d had a long day, and the last thing she wanted was to start anything now.

San’s lips quirked up in a playful smirk. “Comfortable, huh? Or hiding something?” His fingers danced along the edge of her robe, tugging at it lightly as if testing her resolve.

Y/N swatted his hand away with a mock stern expression. “Stop it,” she said with a chuckle. “You’re tired, San. Just relax.”

But San, despite his exhaustion, wasn’t about to let it go. He grinned at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Tired or not, I want to know what’s underneath this robe.” He tugged at it again, only for Y/N to bat his hand away once more.

“San!” she giggled, squirming as he playfully tried to pull the robe open. “I’m serious! There’s nothing to see!”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” San teased, shifting his weight so that he could get a better angle, his hands now sneaking around her waist as he pretended to pry her robe open.

Y/N laughed and rolled onto her side, keeping the robe tightly closed, her cheeks flushed from the playful battle. “You’re relentless,” she huffed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but San wasn’t having it. He playfully tackled her back onto the bed, holding her in place with a triumphant grin.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft but teasing as his nose brushed against her cheek. “Just show me.”

The pet name caught Y/N off guard. Her laughter faded, replaced by a quiet moment of vulnerability. The way he said it, with such warmth and tenderness, transformed the playful banter into something more intimate. For a moment, it felt different—more meaningful than the casual nicknames she had grown used to from others.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. The sincerity behind his words, the way he made her feel special rather than objectified, was something she hadn't experienced before. It stirred something inside her, a blend of surprise and warmth. She realized that with San, these names didn’t just carry the weight of discomfort—they held meaning, an affirmation of their bond.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she met his gaze. “Alright,” she said softly, her voice tinged with affection. Slowly, with a teasing glimmer in her eyes, Y/N slipped her robe open to reveal a light purple lingerie set—his favorite color. The delicate fabric contrasted beautifully with her skin, and the sight of it made San’s breath catch in his throat. The lingerie clung to her curves just right, accentuating her figure in a way that was both elegant and alluring.

San’s eyes widened with appreciation, his earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Wow,” he breathed, his gaze traveling over her with a mix of admiration and desire. “Beautiful.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with a soft pink, her heart racing at the intensity in San’s eyes. The air between them seemed to thicken with a new, palpable energy. She felt a delicate thrill of anticipation, the kind that whispered promises of closeness and shared moments.

San reached out, his fingers grazing her arm lightly as he pulled her closer. The touch was gentle but filled with a quiet urgency. “You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace. The tenderness in his touch, the warmth of his body against hers, created a cocoon of intimacy around them.

With a playful smile, Y/N straddled his waist, her robe slipping just slightly to reveal more of her lingerie. San’s hands roamed over her sides, his impatience palpable as his fingers traced her curves.

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked softly, her voice carrying a teasing undertone. San’s eyes were fixed on her, unable to find the words. He simply nodded, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers moving to the buttons of his dress shirt. “Oh, you’ve had such a long day,” she said, her voice sweet and almost sing-song. “You work so hard all the time.”

She worked methodically, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, each button revealed with deliberate slowness. Her fingers brushed against his chest, and she took her time, enjoying the contrast of his warm skin against her cool touch.

San's breathing grew more ragged, his hands gripping her hips with a gentle but urgent pressure. All he wanted was to kiss her, to lose himself in the soft, intimate space between them. His eyes followed her hands, the slow disrobing making him yearn for her touch.

Y/N’s hands slid the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his bare chest. She leaned in, her lips brushing lightly against his collarbone. “You deserve to be pampered,” she whispered, her voice filled with affectionate mock-seriousness. 

San’s hands tightened on her waist, his desire evident in the way he pulled her closer. He turned his head, his lips seeking hers, but Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes dancing with playful defiance.

“Patience,” she murmured, her fingers dancing over his bare skin, drawing soft, teasing patterns. “I’m not done yet.”

San let out a low groan, his frustration mixed with pleasure as he fought to keep his composure. “I can’t wait,” he admitted, his voice thick with longing.

Y/N smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief and affection. “I know,” she said softly. “But for now, let me take care of you.”

Sung-Ho strolled through the office, his eyes scanning the rows of desks and the bustling activity of the staff. He spotted San’s secretary, who was tidying up her desk. Approaching her, he raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Hey,” Sung-Ho greeted casually. “Do you know where San is? I was hoping to catch him before lunch.”

The secretary looked up, her expression thoughtful. “Oh, Mr. Choi? I saw him heading towards the elevators not too long ago. He should be on his way out for the day.”

Sung-Ho nodded, a frown settling on his face. He made his way to the elevators, catching sight of San just as the doors were closing. He quickened his pace, slipping into the elevator before the doors shut completely.

“San,” Sung-Ho called out as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor. He stepped out and caught up with San, who was heading towards the exit. “Hold on a minute.”

San turned, his expression a mix of surprise and mild annoyance. “Sung-Ho. What’s up?”

Sung-Ho’s gaze was sharp, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What's up? What's up with you, huh? You're leaving early today? You’re usually the first one in and the last one out. What’s going on? Where are you headed?”

San shrugged nonchalantly, his tone dismissive. “Look, I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Whatever it is you're needing I'll handle it tomorrow.”

Sung-Ho’s frustration grew. “Why are you in a rush? Come on, what’s really going on?”

San sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in a tired gesture. “I've got a date.”

Sung-Ho’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and irritation flickering across his face. “A date? Don't tell me it's with that hooker?”

San’s jaw tightened at Sung-Ho’s words. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Careful Sung-Ho,” he said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. 

Sung-Ho’s face flushed slightly at the warning in San’s tone, but he pressed on, unable to mask his disdain. “Come on, San. You’re seriously letting a hooker distract you from your work? You’ve been distracted lately, and now you’re letting this affect your performance.”

San’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “Frankly, I don’t need you judging my personal life. I’m perfectly capable of handling my work and my relationships.”

Sung-Ho shook his head, his frustration evident. “I just don’t understand why you’re settling for someone like her. You’re better than this, San.”

San took a deep breath, his jaw clenching. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I’m making my own choices, and I’m happy with them. If you have an issue with that, then maybe you should look elsewhere for answers.”

Sung-Ho’s mouth opened in a mixture of surprise and frustration, but he didn’t have a retort. He watched as San turned on his heel and walked briskly towards the exit, his posture rigid with determination.

As San exited the building, Sung-Ho stood in the lobby, his mind racing with a mix of confusion and irritation. He had always seen San as a workaholic, dedicated to his career above all else, and seeing him so absorbed in his personal life was jarring.

“So... what do we think?” she asked, her voice bubbling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. Y/N twirled in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of her elegant dress. The fabric shimmered softly under the light, a deep sapphire blue that contrasted beautifully with her skin. 

San looked up, his eyes traveling from her hair down to her shoes. The expression on his face softened into a genuine smile, his gaze filled with admiration. “You look incredible,” he said, his tone warm and approving. “Absolutely stunning.”

Y/N's cheeks flushed with a delighted pink, and she beamed at him. “Thanks! I’m so excited for tonight. It’s been ages since I’ve seen a musical, and this one has been on my list forever.”

San nodded, his smile widening. “I remember you mentioning it. Besides, I've been dragging you around to all these places with me, I thought it’d be nice to surprise you with something.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she took a step closer to him, her expression touched. “You remembered? I didn’t think you’d go through all that trouble.”

San shrugged casually, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his pleasure at her reaction. “I wanted to make sure you had a great time.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered with a mix of happiness and appreciation. She reached out, taking his hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re making this night really special for me. I can’t wait to see the show.”

San’s fingers tightened around hers, his eyes locking with hers. “I’m glad you’re excited. I’ve heard this performance is supposed to be incredible.”

They both glanced at the clock, noting they needed to leave soon to make it to the theater on time. Y/N grabbed her clutch from the dresser and turned to San with a playful grin. “Ready to see what all the fuss is about?”

San laughed softly, a genuine, carefree sound that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “Absolutely.”

As they walked out of the apartment together, the evening air was crisp and refreshing. They strolled hand in hand to the car, the city lights casting a warm glow over the streets. San opened the car door for Y/N with a courteous smile, and she slipped inside, feeling a wave of contentment.

During the drive to the theater, Y/N chatted animatedly about her past experiences with musicals, her excitement bubbling over as she shared her favorite moments and performances. San listened intently, occasionally glancing at her with a fond smile.

When they arrived at the theater, the anticipation in the air was palpable. The marquee lights shimmered, announcing the night’s performance in elegant script. Y/N’s eyes sparkled with joy as she looked up at the sign, then at San, her excitement evident.

“Thank you, San,” she said softly, her voice filled with heartfelt gratitude. “This means so much to me.”

San squeezed her hand gently, his expression sincere. “I’m glad to see you so happy."

They made their way inside, the theater bustling with patrons and the buzz of anticipation. As they took their seats, Y/N settled in comfortably, her hand still clasped in San’s. The lights dimmed, and the curtain began to rise, revealing a dazzling stage.

Y/N’s eyes widened with awe, her heart swelling with joy. She turned to San, catching his eye and offering him a radiant smile. “It's starting.”

San smiled back, his gaze warm and affectionate. The performance began, and the magic of the musical enveloped them, creating a night filled with laughter, music, and shared moments of wonder. Y/N leaned into San, savoring the experience and the closeness they shared, knowing this was a night she would remember for a long time.

After the performance, Y/N and San walked out of the theater, the cool night air brushing against their faces. The city streets were bustling with people, but Y/N was glowing with happiness, her excitement palpable. She practically bounced as she walked beside San, her hands animatedly gesturing as she spoke.

“Okay, so remember that big number at the end? I was convinced they were going to do a tap dance routine. I was practically holding my breath!”

San laughed softly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh my god, and then! Did you see that part when the lead actress—” Y/N's voice was practically bubbling over with enthusiasm. “She did this incredible flip! I’ve never seen anything like it. And the set changes were so seamless. One minute, they’re in a grand ballroom, and the next, they’re on a moonlit terrace. It was like magic!”

San chuckled, clearly amused by her energy. “I’m glad you enjoyed it so much. You were pretty wrapped up in it.”

Y/N’s laughter was infectious, and she reached out to give San a quick hug. “I did! It’s just been such a great night, and I can’t wait to tell everyone about it.”

As they made their way to the car, Y/N’s excitement didn’t wane. She continued to recount her favorite moments, her voice animated and full of joy. San listened intently, his heart warmed by her happiness. The night had been a success, and seeing Y/N so delighted made every effort he’d put into arranging it worthwhile.

When they finally reached the car, Y/N turned to San with a grateful smile. “Seriously, thank you for tonight. It was more than I could’ve asked for.”

San opened the car door for her, his smile tender. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I could make you happy.”

Y/N slid into the passenger seat, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. “Well, you definitely did. I’m already looking forward to our next adventure.”

As San settled into the driver’s seat, he looked over at her with a warm, satisfied smile. “Me too.”

They drove home together, Y/N’s cheerful chatter filling the car with an infectious joy that made the night even more memorable.

Back in the apartment, the energy between Y/N and San was electric, the afterglow of the evening still shimmering brightly. Y/N, still buzzing with excitement, practically skipped into the living room, her eyes sparkling with a lively enthusiasm that made San smile.

They settled down on the floor in front of the coffee table, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over them. Y/N poured two glasses of wine, handing one to San before they began shuffling the deck.

“So,” Y/N began, her fingers deftly mixing the cards, “what’s your game of choice? I’ve got a few up my sleeve.”

San took a sip of his wine, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Surprise me. I’m game for anything.”

Y/N’s grin widened as she began dealing the cards. “Alright, how about we start with poker? A classic. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

San chuckled, taking his hand and inspecting his cards with a mock-serious expression. “Poker it is. But be warned, I don’t play nice.”

The two began playing, their laughter and light-hearted banter filling the room. Y/N’s competitive spirit came out in full force, and she teased San relentlessly whenever he made a misstep. San, in turn, was more than happy to dish out playful retorts, his laughter mingling with hers.

“Ha!” Y/N exclaimed triumphantly as she won a hand. “Looks like my lucky streak is holding!”

San raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Beginners’ luck. I’ll have you know I’m just letting you win to make it more interesting.”

Y/N scoffed playfully, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, is that so? I think you’re just afraid of my superior card skills.”

San leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “Careful, or I might have to show you just how skilled I really am.”

As the game continued, the competition grew more animated, their playful banter creating a comfortable, intimate atmosphere. They laughed, joked, and occasionally leaned in close, their shoulders brushing as they tried to conceal their hands or strategize their next move.

Eventually, as the night wore on, their card game devolved into a series of silly bets and challenges. Y/N had dared San to perform a dramatic monologue from one of her favorite movies, and he, with a good-natured grin, obliged with exaggerated flair.

Y/N clapped and laughed, thoroughly entertained. “Bravo, Bravo!”

San laughed, taking a theatrical bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’ve always wanted to be a performer.”

The two continued to enjoy their wine and each other’s company. By the time they decided to call it a night, both were still riding high on the joy of their evening together.

Y/N stretched, her eyes full of contentment. “Wanna do another round? Or we can move to another game?”

San glanced at the clock and realized it was past midnight. He looked back at Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Why don’t we finish this tomorrow? It’s really late, and I have to work.”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Why don’t you just take the day off?"

San looked at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Take the day off? No, I’ve never done that.”

Y/N tilted her head, a playful grin on her lips. “Exactly. You’re always pushing yourself. Just one day won’t hurt. Besides, you deserve a break.”

San raised an eyebrow, considering her words. He had always been so dedicated to his work, it felt almost foreign to think of taking a day off without a pressing reason. Yet, the idea of spending a full day with Y/N, without the usual pressures of his job hanging over him, was tempting.

Y/N reached out, placing a hand on his arm with a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Just this once. Let’s enjoy the day together, no work, no stress.”

San hesitated, his internal conflict clear. He had always felt a sense of responsibility to his job, but Y/N’s enthusiasm and the promise of a carefree day with her were hard to ignore.

Finally, he let out a resigned sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Alright, you win. I’ll take the day off.”

Y/N’s face lit up with a delighted grin. “Great! I’ll make some fun plans for us. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

San chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m sure I won’t." 

The next day dawned bright and warm, and Y/N had successfully dragged San out to the city’s public park. It was a beautiful day, and the park was buzzing with life. Families gathered at the playground, their children’s laughter filling the air as they swung on jungle gyms and dashed through the open spaces. Nearby, food trucks and stands lined the sidewalks, offering everything from ice cream to gourmet sandwiches. The smell of freshly popped popcorn mingled with the scent of blooming flowers.

San sat on the blanket Y/N had brought with them, his suit jacket left behind in the car but still looking somewhat formal compared to the relaxed atmosphere. He was on the phone, his brow slightly furrowed as he discussed something work-related with one of his employees. Despite being physically present, his mind seemed anchored to the office.

Y/N, on the other hand, was completely in her element. She had already kicked off her sandals and was enjoying the feel of the grass under her feet. Glancing at San, she rolled her eyes playfully. Without saying a word, she knelt down in front of him, her hands working to remove his shoes. San barely registered what she was doing as he continued his conversation, his attention focused entirely on the voice on the other end of the phone.

Once she had successfully unfastened his shoes and slipped them off, Y/N pulled off his socks, tossing them aside with a smirk. She could feel his eyes flicker toward her in mild confusion, but he still didn’t interrupt his phone call.

That was until Y/N made her next bold move.

With a mischievous grin, she leaned forward, yanked the phone from his hand, and tossed it to the side onto the blanket—well out of his reach but safe from any damage. San’s eyes widened in surprise, his sentence cutting off mid-word as he stared at her in disbelief.

“Y/N, what the—” he began, but she cut him off with a firm but playful look.

“You’re supposed to be taking the day off, remember?” she said, her tone light but teasingly scolding. “No work, no phone calls. Just us.”

San blinked, processing the moment. “But that was important.”

“Not as important as this,” Y/N replied, pointing toward the park, the families, the sunshine, and the two of them sitting together. “You promised me a day with no work. So, I’m holding you to that.”

San sighed but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. The seriousness in his demeanor slowly melted away, replaced by a relaxed warmth. He shifted on the blanket, glancing at his phone sitting uselessly beside them before turning his full attention to Y/N.

“Alright,” he said, his voice softening. “No more work. Just us.”

Y/N beamed, satisfied with her victory, and she leaned back on the blanket with a contented sigh. The playful atmosphere wrapped around them like a warm breeze as the sounds of the park filled the air. It was a rare, carefree moment—one that she knew San needed more than he realized.

She gave him a quick wink, her eyes dancing with mischief. "See? You’re already doing better."

San chuckled, leaning back onto the blanket beside her. “I guess I am. But you’re a dangerous influence.”

“Someone’s got to remind you how to live a little,” Y/N teased, nudging his side playfully.

San’s hand found hers on the blanket, their fingers entwining easily. As they sat together, surrounded by the life and laughter of the park, it felt as though time had slowed down, giving them the space to simply be with each other—no work, no stress, just them.

Their day had been packed with activities, and the joy of it all still lingered in the air as they drove through the city. After a morning at the park and an afternoon spent at the horse ranch, Y/N was radiating happiness. She had begged San to take her back to the ranch they visited a few days earlier, eager to try horseback riding for the first time. Though San had done it before, he was more than happy to oblige her excitement. Watching her carefully learn the ropes, laugh at her clumsy moments, and eventually grow more confident on the horse had brought a lightness to his own heart.

They spent hours riding through the trails, the sun warming their backs as they explored the scenic landscapes together. By the time they returned to the ranch, both of them were glowing with the thrill of the experience. After that, Y/N had insisted they stop by a food truck on their way back into the city, pointing out a stall she had tried once that sold the best street tacos. San had never tried food from a truck before, but seeing her eyes light up at the sight of something so simple, yet meaningful to her, made the new experience worth it.

Now, with the sun setting and casting golden light across the cityscape, they were cruising through the same part of town where they had first met. The coincidence of it wasn’t lost on San—he glanced out the window, recalling that fateful night, and wondered at the strange pull that had led him down these streets again.

Y/N, who had been quietly watching the city lights pass by, suddenly sat up straighter. Her eyes fixed on a familiar spot up ahead, a small bar tucked away in a corner.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed, pointing toward the bar. “That’s where I used to hang out with Seoyeon.” Her voice held a mix of nostalgia and eagerness.

San slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the street as she had asked. Y/N was already unbuckling her seatbelt. “I’m going to see if she’s in there,” she said, her tone light but determined. “Wait here. I’ll be quick.”

San’s eyes flickered with hesitation. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Y/N stepping into that old bar, especially given what he knew of her past with Seoyeon, but he didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm. He trusted her, after all, and if she wanted to check on her friend, who was he to stop her?

“Alright,” he said with a small smile, though his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer. 

Y/N flashed him a grateful grin before hopping out of the car and walking toward the bar’s entrance. The neon lights of the bar’s sign cast a faint glow on her as she pushed open the door and disappeared inside.

San watched her go, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as he waited. The city hummed with activity around him, cars passing by, people walking along the sidewalks, and the familiar sounds of urban life filling the air. Despite the casual atmosphere, a small flicker of unease crept into his chest as the minutes ticked by.

It was strange, being back in this part of town—the place where it had all started for them. He glanced around at the quiet streets, a nostalgic memory of their first encounter surfacing in his mind. The way she had stood her ground against those men, the fierce determination in her eyes, and the way fate seemed to have aligned to bring them together—it all felt like a distant dream now, yet so vivid at the same time.

San leaned back in his seat, waiting patiently but keeping a watchful eye on the bar’s entrance, hoping Y/N wouldn’t be long.

As Y/N stepped into the familiar bar, the smell of liquor and old wood washed over her, tugging at memories she had tried to leave behind. The dim lighting and worn-out stools felt the same, but something inside her had changed since the last time she was here. She no longer felt that deep sense of suffocation, like the walls were closing in on her. She was free—free from the weight of everything that had held her back for so long.

Before she could make it far, a voice called out from behind the bar. “Well, well, if it isn’t Y/N.”

She turned to see Lila, one of the bartenders she used to know well. Lila was leaning against the counter, her eyes scanning Y/N up and down with curiosity. “Where have you been? You look… different.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the comment. “Different?”

Lila smiled knowingly. “Yeah, you do. Healthier. Happier. Like, your skin’s glowing, your hair looks amazing,”

Y/N glanced down at herself, trying to see what Lila meant. She hadn’t really noticed the changes before, but now that Lila mentioned it, there was something different about her. Her skin, which used to be sallow and tired, now had a warmth to it. Her hair, once dry and brittle, had a healthy sheen, and she could feel the difference in her body too—stronger, more at ease. It was as if all the tension and exhaustion she’d carried around with her for years had started to melt away.

She smiled softly. “I guess I’ve been taking better care of myself.”

Lila grinned and crossed her arms. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. It suits you.”

Before Y/N could respond, another figure joined the conversation—a tall, older gentleman with graying hair and kind eyes. Pops, the owner of the bar, had always been a friendly presence, looking out for the girls who came in and offering them a safe space when things got rough.

“Y/N,” Pops greeted warmly, his voice gruff but affectionate. “I heard you landed yourself a new job. That’s what’s behind this new look, huh?”

Y/N chuckled lightly, a bit embarrassed. “Something like that.”

“Well, good for you, kid,” Pops said, clapping her on the shoulder. “You look better than I’ve seen you in a long time. Whatever it is, you’re doing alright now.”

“Thanks, Pops. It’s been… different,” Y/N admitted, feeling a wave of gratitude for the people who had once been part of her old life. She glanced around, her smile fading slightly as she remembered why she’d come here. “Actually, I was hoping to run into Seoyeon. Have you guys seen her around?”

Both Lila and Pops exchanged glances, then shook their heads. “Haven’t seen her in a while,” Lila said. “She stopped coming in earlier this week. Must be with some new guy.”

“Yeah,” Pops added. “Last time I saw her, she was in a bit of a rough patch, but nothing since then.”

Y/N’s heart sank a little, though she tried not to show it. Seoyeon had always been unpredictable, but this time, something felt off. She dug into her bag and pulled out a small piece of paper, scribbling down the phone number for the apartment. “If you see her, or if she shows up, could you tell her to call me? I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

Lila took the note and nodded. “Of course, Y/N. If she shows up, we’ll let her know.”

Pops smiled gently. “Take care of yourself, alright? It’s good to see you like this. Don’t let anything pull you back down.”

Y/N smiled gratefully, feeling the warmth of their concern. She thanked them both and made her way back toward the exit. As she stepped out into the night, she couldn’t help but glance back at the bar, the place where she had spent so many nights lost and uncertain. Now, she was walking away from it, back to a life that felt more like her own.

As she approached the car, San looked at her questioningly, his expression softening when he saw the calm determination in her eyes. Without saying a word, she slipped back into the passenger seat, offering him a small smile. The past was still there, lingering in the shadows, but now she had something brighter to look forward to—something worth holding onto.

The dim glow from the bathroom lights spilled into the bedroom as Y/N finished getting ready for the night. She smoothed down her sleeveless nightdress, the soft fabric brushing against her skin as she released her hair from its bun, allowing it to fall in loose waves around her shoulders. Stepping out of the bathroom, she paused at the doorway, her gaze falling on the bed.

San was there, half-sitting, half-leaning against the pillows, his bare chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of sleep. He looked peaceful, the hard edges of his usual composed demeanor softened in slumber. Y/N smiled to herself, the sight of him like this warming her heart. She stood there for a moment, simply watching him, letting the stillness of the moment settle between them.

“He sleeps,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

Quietly, she walked toward the bed, the floor cool beneath her feet as she approached him. She sat down gently on the mattress, careful not to disturb him too much. Her eyes traced the contours of his face, the strong lines of his jaw, the way his lips were slightly parted as he breathed. He looked so different when he slept—unguarded, relaxed, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to seeing.

Y/N smiled softly and pressed her index finger to her lips, kissing it gently before placing the same finger against San’s lips. The lightest of touches, tender and affectionate. She hesitated for just a moment, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement, then leaned down closer to him.

Her lips brushed his cheek, soft as a whisper. She paused, her heart skipping a beat, before leaning in again—this time pressing her lips against his. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver through her, and for a moment, she thought he hadn’t stirred. But then, his lips responded, returning the kiss with gentle pressure.

San blinked his eyes open, the hazy fog of sleep fading as he registered what was happening. His gaze found hers, and a slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he met her kiss more fully, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch her face. He lifted himself from the bed, the kiss growing deeper, more passionate as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

Y/N’s hands slid up his chest as they kissed, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips. She let herself get lost in him, in the moment, her body responding to the tenderness and desire in his touch. San’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer still, the connection between them electric, the room around them fading away.

When they finally parted for breath, San gazed at her, his voice husky and low. “Hi,” he murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile.

Y/N grinned, brushing her thumb along his cheek. “Hi handsome,” she teased softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Y/N's teasing grin lingered as she held San’s gaze, her heart racing with anticipation. The room felt charged with a new kind of energy, the air thick with the unspoken tension between them. Slowly, her hands left his face, fingers trailing down his chest before finding the hem of her nightdress. With a quiet confidence, she slipped it off, letting the soft fabric pool at her feet.

San’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched her, his breath catching in his throat. The sight of her standing before him—bare, vulnerable, and breathtaking—sent a surge of heat through him. He couldn’t look away, utterly captivated by the way she moved, the way her skin seemed to glow in the dim light.

Y/N leaned back down, her lips finding his again, the kiss deeper this time, more urgent. San responded immediately, pulling her close as their bodies pressed together, his hands roaming her skin, exploring the curves of her waist and the dip of her back. Each touch felt electric, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through them both.

She climbed back into the bed, straddling his lap, and San’s hands instinctively gripped her hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles against her skin. They kissed like they had all the time in the world, savoring the moment, letting the passion build between them. There was a tenderness in their connection, a quiet intimacy that made the moment feel like more than just physical desire—it felt like a promise.

San’s hands moved up her sides, exploring the familiar and beloved lines of her body. His lips never left hers, matching her hunger with his own, the kiss deepening as his desire for her grew. Y/N moaned softly against his mouth, the sound sending a thrill through him.

Time seemed to blur, the world outside fading completely as they lost themselves in each other. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching as he responded with equal fervor. Everything about him—his warmth, his strength, his touch—made her feel alive, wanted, and loved.

San shifted, rolling them both so that he was now hovering over her, his lips trailing from her mouth to her neck, then lower, each kiss leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Y/N arched beneath him, her body trembling with anticipation, her hands running over the muscles of his back as she whispered his name in the darkness.

Some time later, Y/N lay beneath San, his body resting comfortably on top of hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her in a protective embrace. His head nestled against her chest, the weight of him grounding her in a way that made her feel safe, even though her mind was anything but at ease. The warmth of his body, the soft sound of his breathing as he slept, wrapped them both in a cocoon of intimacy that felt like it could last forever. But Y/N knew better.

She let her fingers drift through his hair, brushing the strands back gently as she gazed up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. Their arrangement, whatever it had turned in to, had an expiration date. She knew this. He had never promised more than what they had now, and she had been content with that for a while. But lying here, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth she had been avoiding.

This wasn’t just some temporary thing for her anymore.

Y/N bit her lip, the realization hitting her hard as she continued to absentmindedly stroke his hair. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to worm his way so deeply into her heart. What had started as an unlikely connection had evolved into something that scared her because it felt so real, so raw. She hadn’t planned on feeling this way, but here she was, her heart betraying her careful walls, crumbling every time he smiled, every time he held her like she meant the world to him.

She gazed down at him, her chest tightening as she took in the sight of him—so peaceful, so unguarded in his sleep. Her fingers paused in their motion for just a moment, lingering in his hair as if committing the feeling to memory.

Then, in the quiet darkness, with only the sound of his soft breathing and the thudding of her own heart, Y/N whispered the words that had been dancing on the edge of her mind for days now. “I think I’m falling for you,” she breathed, so quietly that the words almost disappeared into the night.

San stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Y/N swallowed hard, her heart racing as if speaking those words aloud had somehow made everything more real. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to hear it yet or if she was ready to face the consequences of her feelings. But for now, with his weight grounding her, his warmth comforting her, she allowed herself to hold on to that small, fragile truth.

She wasn’t sure what the future held, but tonight, lying there with him in her arms, she was falling—and it was terrifyingly beautiful.

The next morning, Y/N stirred in the soft sheets, her hand reaching instinctively for the warmth beside her. But the bed was empty. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the quiet room, sunlight streaming in through the curtains. She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. 

She got dressed quickly, slipping into something comfortable before making her way through the quiet penthouse. When she reached the dining room, she found him seated at the table, his usual business attire sharp and polished, a stark contrast to the ease and vulnerability of the night before. A tray of food sat in front of him, but San wasn’t eating much—he was lost in thought, his expression distant as he stared out the window.

Y/N lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. It felt as if a subtle shift had occurred overnight, a quiet tension that neither of them had addressed yet. She approached the table, her footsteps soft on the floor.

“Morning,” she greeted with a small smile as she sat down across from him.

San blinked out of his thoughts and looked up at her, his lips curving into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Morning,” he responded, his voice calm but laced with something heavier beneath the surface.

Y/N helped herself to some of the breakfast laid out, but she could feel his gaze lingering on her, the silence between them feeling different than usual. After a few moments, she glanced up at him. “What are you thinking about sitting here all by yourself ?,” she noted softly, studying him.

San sighed, setting his fork down and leaning back in his chair. He offered her a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “The fact that this will be our last night together...and you'll finally be rid of me.” He said it in a light, joking tone, but Y/N could hear the weight underneath it—the way the words seemed to carry more than just casual humor.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking as she responded playfully, “Oh, what a relief! Finally, some peace and quiet.” She winked at him, trying to keep the mood light, though her own heart raced at the thought of this arrangement coming to an end.

San chuckled softly, shaking his head at her teasing. But then his expression grew more serious, his eyes searching hers. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I would like to see you again.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she just stared at him, her mind racing. She had convinced herself that everything between them had been part of the deal—that his touch, his kisses, the tenderness he showed her had been because that was what he had paid for. But now, hearing him say this, she realized that maybe...just maybe...he had wanted to be close to her. He had wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to be with her.

She felt a surge of excitement rise in her chest, her heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and joy. “You do?” she asked, her voice almost hesitant, as if she didn’t want to get her hopes up too high.

San nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “Yeah. I do,” he said simply, but there was an honesty in his voice that made her heart flutter. “I’ve realized I don’t want this to just end.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes lighting up as she reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “I’d like that too,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth.

San’s fingers tightened around hers, a relieved smile spreading across his face. And in that moment, the tension that had been hanging in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by something lighter, something hopeful. But then, as the joy settled in, San’s next words began to twist it into something else.

"Good," he said, relief evident in his tone. "Because I've already arranged for you to have an apartment, to have a car..." He continued, his words tumbling out easily as though he was sharing something wonderful. “And a wide variety of stores guaranteed to cater to you whenever you want to shop. Everything's taken care of.”

Y/N’s smile faltered. Her heart sank, and she felt the warmth from just moments ago cool into something that made her stomach knot. Her head dropped, and she brought her hands to her face, exhaling deeply as she tried to process what he had just said. She bent down over the table, her elbows braced against it.

"What else?" she muttered, her voice tinged with bitterness. "You gonna leave some money by the bed when you pass through town?"

San’s smile disappeared, the weight of her words landing hard. He shook his head slightly, his tone gentle but defensive. “Y/N, it wouldn’t be like that.”

Y/N straightened, standing up as frustration bubbled inside her. “How would it be, then?” she countered, her voice sharper, edged with hurt.

San looked at her, trying to explain, though his words were stumbling now. “Well, for one thing, it would get you off the streets.”

She scoffed, the dismissive sound cutting through the air between them. “That’s just geography,” she shot back, her voice growing quieter but no less powerful. She turned and walked toward the terrace, her steps steady but her heart aching.

San watched her go, the weight of his good intentions landing wrong, and his chest tightened with the realization that he might have misunderstood what she needed from him. Y/N walked out onto the terrace, the cool morning air brushing against her skin, offering a momentary escape from the tension that had gripped her heart. She leaned on the railing, staring out at the cityscape, trying to make sense of the swirl of emotions within her.

Inside, San remained seated at the breakfast table for a moment, his mind racing. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, hadn’t wanted to make her feel less than what she was to him. Realizing he needed to fix this, he stood up and followed her to the terrace, pausing at the door.

"What is it you want?" San asked, his voice softer now, tinged with uncertainty. "What do you see happening between us?"

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let out a sigh, her gaze still fixed on the distant skyline. "I don’t know, San," she began, her voice carrying a wistful tone. "You know... when I was a little girl, I loved hearing the story of Rapunzel. When I was bad, which was pretty often, I would pretend I was a princess... trapped in a tower by a wicked queen. And then, suddenly, this knight on a white horse with his colors flying would come charging up and draw his sword. And I would wave. And he would climb up the tower and rescue me."

Finally, Y/N turned to face San, her eyes meeting his as she walked toward him. The weight of her words hung between them, a longing she hadn’t even realized she still carried.

"But never in all the time... that I had this dream did the knight say to me, 'Come on, baby, I'll put you up in a great condo.'" Her voice was quiet, but the impact of her words hit San hard, making him realize how deeply he had misunderstood her needs.

As they stood there, the phone rang inside the penthouse, cutting through the silence like a jarring reminder of the world outside. San hesitated for a second before turning and walking back into the penthouse to answer it.

“Yes,” he responded curtly, his voice taking on a sharp edge. Y/N watched him from the terrace, knowing instinctively that the call was work-related. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but she knew the look on his face all too well. Business was pulling him away—again.

"No, it's no good. If he's really caving in, I don't want to wait until this afternoon. Have him meet me downtown this morning. Goodbye." San hung up the phone, his expression set as he grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair. He slipped it on as he walked back toward Y/N, who was now standing just inside the room.

"I have to go," he said, his voice laced with an urgency he couldn’t entirely mask. "But I want you to understand... I heard everything you said. This is all I'm capable of right now. It's a very big step for me."

Y/N nodded absently, reaching up to straighten his tie, the small gesture a contrast to the turmoil in her heart. "I know. It's a really good offer for a girl like me," she replied, her voice resigned, her eyes reflecting a sadness that cut deep into San’s heart.

He searched her face, the look of defeat and disappointment foreign and painful to witness. "I've never treated you like a prostitute," he said, his voice earnest, almost pleading. He wanted her to understand, to see that he was trying, even if he was failing.

But as he turned and walked away toward the front door, Y/N stood there, watching him go. Out of his hearing, she whispered to the empty room, "You just did."

San sat at his desk, the weight of the decision he’d made settling in his chest. The room around him hummed with the quiet efficiency of his team, all focused on the deal that had been the center of attention for weeks. They had poured everything into it—time, effort, resources. All of it for a partnership that San had now decided to pull away from.

He knew Song-Ho would be livid. The man had already sent him several messages throughout the day, trying to figure out why the deal had suddenly fallen apart. But San didn’t care. It was his company, and at the end of the day, the decision was his to make. He refused to associate himself with an organization whose values clashed so strongly with his own. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he had made the right choice.

His thoughts drifted, however, back to something—or rather, someone—far more pressing: Y/N. The memory of her standing on that terrace, her words still echoing in his mind, tugged at his chest. He had left her with little reassurance, unsure of what to say, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. What was he going to do? How could he bridge the gap between them?

With a sigh, San stood from his desk, his decision made. There were still loose ends to tie up, but right now, they could wait. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and strode out of his office. His assistant blinked in surprise as he passed, but she said nothing, only watching as he made his way to the elevator.

He got to his car and drove off, where to he hand't quite figured out yet. His mind was a tangle of thoughts, but all of them led back to Y/N. Before he knows it, he sees the park and moves towards it. When he finally arrived, San parked his car near the same grassy field they had spent time in just the other day. He slipped off his shoes before stepping onto the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath his feet. It grounded him, if only for a moment.

As he wandered through the park, he watched families laughing and playing, couples sitting close on blankets, their worlds narrowed down to just each other. The park was alive with the hum of life, and yet San felt like an outsider looking in. His mind continued to race. He had spent so much time in control of everything—his company, his life. But with Y/N, things were different. He wasn’t sure how to navigate this unfamiliar terrain, wasn’t sure what his next move should be.

He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the field, his eyes scanning the scene around him. Part of him longed for that same simple happiness he saw in the people around him, that unspoken ease of connection. It was something he hadn’t thought he wanted until now.

San’s gaze drifted to the horizon, his thoughts circling back to Y/N, wondering if he could really have something more with her. Something real. 

Meanwhile, Y/N moved to the penthouse living room. The doorbell rang, the sound sending a slight jolt through Y/N. She placed the large box she had been holding on the floor, already feeling a pit form in her stomach as she approached the door. When she opened it, her unease solidified into a deep, unsettling dread. Song-Ho stood there, a sneer twisting his features.

“Well, well. Hello again,” Song-Ho drawled, his voice slick with malice. Y/N’s grip on the door tightened as she tried to mask her discomfort. “I’m looking for San.”

Y/N stood firm in the doorway, unwilling to let him see the full effect his presence had on her. “He’s not here. I thought he was with you,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No, uh, San is definitely not with me.” Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed past her, stepping inside as if he owned the place. The audacity made her skin crawl, but she closed the door behind him.

“No, if San were with me…” Song-Ho said as he put his briefcase down, his tone mocking as he walked deeper into the room, “...he wouldn’t be blowing off billion-dollar deals.” He made his way to the bar, helping himself to a drink. Y/N watched him with growing unease, knowing that he was here for more than just small talk.

“I think San’s with you. That’s what I think,” he said with a dark chuckle. He poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, raising it toward her as if offering her some.

“No, thank you,” she muttered, her voice tight. She moved away from him, her nerves on edge.

“Well, I’ll just wait.” Song-Ho settled himself on a stool by the bar, his gaze never leaving her. Y/N walked over to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs beneath her and grabbing her notebook, trying to create some semblance of normalcy. But his eyes, sharp and predatory, followed her every move.

"San should be home soon," she didn't know who she was saying it to. Didn't know if it was meant for Song-Ho, or herself. 

Song-Ho stood up and moved toward her, the menace in his steps making her heart pound faster. He chuckled again, the sound sending a chill down her spine. “You know… this isn’t home. And you…” he gestured to her, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, “...you’re not the little woman.”

He sat down on the sofa next to her, too close for comfort. Y/N uncrossed her legs, trying to ground herself, but every fiber of her being was tense.

“You’re a hooker,” Song-Ho sneered, his tone casual but cutting. “Maybe you’re a very good hooker, huh?”

Y/N set her notebook down, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to remain composed. But he moved closer, his sneer growing as he sensed her discomfort. “Maybe if I do you, I wouldn’t care about losing millions of dollars.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as his hand reached for her bare leg, his touch invasive and unwelcome. She swatted his hand away, glaring at him with all the strength she could muster.

“I have to be honest with you, Y/N,” he continued, undeterred. His voice was low and venomous, and he leaned in closer. “I’m really pissed right now. So maybe if I screw you...”

His hand inched between her legs. Y/N shoved it away, panic rising in her chest. “Get off me!” she snapped, her voice shaking but fierce.

But Song-Ho didn’t stop. He grinned, leaning in closer. “Come on, I’ll take you out. Make you feel good, just like San.”

The situation escalated quickly. Y/N fought against his advances, her body twisting as she tried to push him away. Her heart raced, fear clawing at her as his hand came at her again. She bit down hard on his hand, drawing a curse from his lips.

“Goddamn it!” he snarled, the back of his hand connecting sharply with her face. Y/N gasped as the force sent her tumbling onto the floor. Dazed, she felt him grab her roughly, his voice leering over her as he pinned her down.

“Come on! I’ll pay for it!” he growled, his voice dripping with cruelty. “How much is it? Twenty bucks, thirty bucks?”

Y/N screamed, struggling against his grip, her voice cracking with desperation. “Get off me! Get off!”

“Fifty? You a fifty-dollar whore, Y/N?” he spat.

Before Song-Ho could say another word, he was ripped away from her with a violent force. San had entered the room silently, his face a storm of fury as he yanked Song-Ho to his feet and shoved him back, the sheer intensity of his anger vibrating through the air. Song-Ho’s smugness faltered instantly, fear flashing in his eyes as he realized the consequences of his actions were far from over.

San’s eyes burned with a cold, quiet rage as he held Song-Ho by the collar, his grip vice-like and unrelenting. He forced him up to his feet, the air around them charged with the tension of barely restrained violence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” San’s voice was low, dangerously calm, but the fury behind it was unmistakable. Song-Ho’s bravado crumbled, his sneer replaced by a flicker of panic as he glanced nervously at San’s clenched jaw.

“San, man—” Song-Ho tried to speak, but San cut him off sharply, shoving him back another step.

“Shut up,” San hissed. His hands flexed as if he was fighting the urge to do something far worse to the man before him. “You come in here, into my place, and pull this shit?” His voice dropped even lower, lethal in its coldness. “Touch her again, and I swear to God, you won’t walk out of here.”

Song-Ho’s hands came up defensively, his eyes wide. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” San bit out, his grip tightening on Song-Ho’s shirt. For a moment, it looked like he might lose control, his anger crackling through the air like static electricity. But then, with a sharp exhale, he released Song-Ho, giving him a final shove that sent him stumbling back.

“Get out,” San said, his voice still dangerous but more controlled now. “Get out before I change my mind about letting you leave in one piece.”

Song-Ho, realizing the severity of the situation, straightened his shirt hastily and backed away toward the door. He cast a final, hateful glance at Y/N before scurrying out of the penthouse, his footsteps quick and unsteady.

The moment the door slammed shut behind him, the tension in the room shifted. San stood there for a long moment, his hands still balled into fists as he stared at the door, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His anger was palpable, but beneath it, there was a deep well of concern.

He turned around slowly, his eyes searching for Y/N. She was still on the floor, her breath shaky as she tried to compose herself. Her face bore the red mark of Song-Ho’s slap, and her expression was a mix of shock and fear.

Without a word, San crossed the room and knelt down beside her. His expression softened immediately as he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and thick with worry.

Y/N nodded, though her body trembled from the adrenaline. She didn’t trust her voice to respond, so instead, she leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hands grounding her in the moment.

San’s thumb brushed over the reddened skin on her cheek, his jaw clenching again, but this time in sorrow rather than anger. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his gaze locking onto hers. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

Y/N shook her head slightly. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

San sighed, pulling her into his arms. His embrace was strong and protective, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything like this happen again. He held her close, his chin resting on top of her head as her breath began to even out.

For a long moment, they just sat there in the quiet of the room, the remnants of the confrontation lingering in the air. But it was the comfort of San’s arms that eased Y/N’s tension, allowing her to feel safe again despite what had just transpired.

San pulled back slightly, looking down at her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “I’m going to take care of you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity. “You’re not just some woman I paid for. You mean more to me than that. You’re more.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at his words, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She could feel the depth of his emotions in every word, every look. San wasn’t just saying these things to placate her; he meant them.

San’s gaze softened, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice tender.

He moved into the kitchen, and a few moments later, he returned holding a box filled with ice cubes. Y/N watched as he carefully removed the cubes, wrapping them in a white napkin. His movements were deliberate, his focus solely on the task at hand.

He sat beside her on the sofa, gently pressing the wrapped ice to her bruised cheek. Y/N flinched slightly from the cold, but the discomfort was outweighed by the tenderness of his touch.

“Why do guys always seem to know just how to hit a woman right across the cheek?” Y/N asked with a faint, pained smile. “Wham! It feels like your eye’s going to explode. Do they pull you aside in high school and teach you how to do this?”

San didn’t respond to her words, his attention entirely on the ice pack he was pressing gently against her cheek. The light touch was still a bit painful, but it was a relief compared to the sting from earlier.

“Is that... Ow!” Y/N winced slightly, the cold still sharp but soothing.

“Not all guys hit,” San said quietly, his voice steady and reassuring. Y/N gave a small, appreciative smile despite the discomfort, touched by his concern and care. As San continued to hold the ice gently against her face, the room seemed to settle into a new, more peaceful quiet—one filled with unspoken understanding and the promise of a better, safer future.

After a moment, Y/N gently moved his hand away from her face and began to sit up. “I think this is okay now,” she said softly. “I need to get going.”

San glanced around and noted her packed bags. “I see you’re ready to leave. Why now?”

Y/N sighed, standing up from the sofa. “San, there’ll always be someone, even someone you know, who’ll think they can treat me like Song-Ho did, that it’s somehow acceptable. What are you going to do? Beat up everyone who thinks like that?” She shook her head. “I know you can’t do that.”

San’s expression grew serious. “That’s not why you’re leaving.”

Y/N picked up her jacket and began to put on her shoes. “You made me a really generous offer. A few months ago, it would have been perfect. But things have changed, and you can’t undo that. I... I want more.”

San moved to stand beside her. “I understand wanting more. I’ve spent my life chasing more. But the question is, how much more?”

“I want the fairy tale,” Y/N said, a sad smile playing on her lips. As she fastened her jacket, she glanced at San, who had taken out his wallet and removed some money. He placed the wallet on a nearby table and sat down on the steps next to her, handing her the money.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, slipping the money into her jacket pocket.

“You're welcome,” San replied, holding out a business card. “If you ever need anything—dental floss or otherwise—just give me a call.”

They both shared a brief chuckle, and Y/N looked at him with a lingering sadness. “I had a good time,” she said softly.

“Me too,” San replied with a warm smile. Y/N stood up and started gathering her luggage.

“Do you want me to call a bellboy for you?” San asked as he bent down to pick up a bag.

“No, I’ve got it,” Y/N replied, heading toward the front door. San moved ahead of her and opened it, but then paused and closed it again.

“Stay,” he said earnestly. “Stay the night with me. Not because I’m paying you, but because you want to.”

Y/N paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle as she looked back at San. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the weight of his offer hanging in the air. Her heart pounded as she considered his words, the hope in his eyes mingling with the uncertainty in her own.

“San, I…” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know.”

San stepped closer, his expression earnest and vulnerable. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay. Give us a chance to figure things out, without the pressure of all the expectations and the roles we’ve been playing.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his face, trying to read the sincerity behind his words. The vulnerability in his gaze, combined with the genuine concern he had shown her, made her heart ache. She had wanted more, but the idea of staying, of letting herself be vulnerable in a different way, was daunting.

“I want to stay,” she admitted quietly, “but I’m afraid.”

San reached out and took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I understand. We’ll take it one step at a time. Just us, figuring it out together.”

Y/N looked at him, her resolve strengthening as she took in the earnestness in his eyes. She nodded slowly, a small, hopeful smile forming on her lips. “Okay.”

San’s face lit up with a relieved smile. “Thank you,” he said softly. He gently led her back into the living room, his hand still holding hers. As they settled back onto the sofa, the tension that had been there earlier seemed to dissolve, replaced by a new, more hopeful sense of connection.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside. San reached out and took her hand in his, holding it gently as if it were something precious. Y/N leaned into his side, feeling the warmth of his presence and the comfort of his touch.

As the night wore on, they talked and laughed, their earlier sadness replaced by a sense of peace and possibility. For the first time, Y/N felt like she was truly seen and understood, and San felt a renewed sense of hope and connection. They had taken a leap of faith together, and it felt like the beginning of something new and promising.

The room was filled with a soft, warm light, casting gentle shadows on the walls. The city outside continued its rhythmic dance of lights and sounds, but inside the penthouse, there was a quiet intimacy that wrapped around them like a comforting blanket. And as they sat together, hand in hand, they both knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Epilogue:

Y/N was seated on Seoyeon's bed, the two women enjoying a rare moment of calm. Seoyeon was in the midst of preparing for her day, her movements quick and practiced. The room was filled with the soft rustle of fabric and the hum of their conversation.

"I’m starting college soon," Y/N said with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I’m finally going to get that degree I’ve always dreamed of."

Seoyeon paused in her preparations, turning to face Y/N with a warm smile. "That’s fantastic, Y/N. I’m really proud of you. If anyone deserves to get out of this life, it’s you."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, a mix of laughter and shared memories filling the room. But the moment was abruptly interrupted by the distant sound of a car honking.

Seoyeon’s brow furrowed in irritation as she glanced toward the window. "Who the hell is that? It’s like a parade out there."

Y/N’s curiosity was piqued. She set aside the magazine she had been leafing through and moved to the window, peering out. As the honking grew louder, her expression shifted from curiosity to delight. A broad smile spread across her face.

Outside, a sleek, black limousine glided slowly toward the hotel. The roof of the car was open, and San’s familiar face appeared, his upper body visible. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a black umbrella in the other. The car’s honking persisted, and the limousine finally came to a stop in front of the hotel.

Y/N’s laughter bubbled up, a mix of joy and disbelief. “Oh my God, it’s San!”

San was waving both the umbrella and the bouquet with exaggerated enthusiasm. His driver, stepping out of the vehicle, watched with a bemused expression as San continued his dramatic gestures. Y/N’s excitement was palpable as she waved back, momentarily forgetting everything else.

Seoyeon watched with an amused expression, shaking her head. “Your boyfriend seems like a psychopath.”

Y/N, still grinning, quickly moved to the emergency exit and stepped out onto the narrow balcony. She looked down at San, who was now standing confidently on the sidewalk, his eyes locked on her with a mix of affection and determination.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N called out, her voice carrying over the noise of the city.

San looked up at her, his grin widening. “Princess Y/N! Come down! I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Y/N’s heart raced with anticipation. “I’ll be down in a minute!” she shouted back, her excitement growing. She turned to head back inside, but not before giving San one last, joyful look.

Seoyeon chuckled from inside the room. “He’s definitely got a flair for the dramatic.”

With a final smile, Y/N hurried down the emergency stairs, her mind racing with what San might have planned. As she descended, her thoughts were filled with the promise of a new chapter, one that was beginning with a grand, unforgettable gesture from someone she had come to care deeply for.

Y/N descended the last ladder of the emergency exit with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. As her feet touched the ground, she found San standing there, his hands now empty after having passed the flowers and umbrella to his driver.

Without missing a beat, San extended his arms toward her. With a strong, reassuring grip, he hoisted her into his embrace, pulling her down gently but securely. His touch was warm, and his eyes sparkled with genuine affection.

"Hi, baby," Y/N said giddily, her voice bubbling with excitement as she looked up at him. The sheer joy of the moment made her heart race, and she could hardly contain her smile.

San’s face lit up with a tender, adoring smile as he held her close. “Hi there,” he replied, his voice soft and filled with warmth. He looked down at her with an intensity that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city bustling around them but feeling like a distant backdrop to their private moment. The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, and everything else fell away.

San finally set her down gently, but he kept his hands resting on her shoulders, his gaze never leaving hers. “I missed you,” he confessed, his tone earnest and filled with emotion.  San’s arms remained around Y/N as he leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was tender and full of longing, a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. Y/N melted into the embrace, her heart swelling with affection as she wrapped her arms around his neck, savoring the connection between them.

After a few blissful moments, they pulled away slightly, their foreheads resting against each other. Y/N’s eyes sparkled with a mix of happiness and curiosity. “You just saw me this morning,” she said with a teasing smile, her voice soft yet filled with wonder.

San’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he smiled back at her. “Ah, but you see, sometimes grand gestures are necessary to remind the people you love just how much they mean to you,” he said, his voice dripping with dramatic flair.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “And I had a feeling you might need an escape from Seoyeon’s endless chatter. I thought this would be the perfect way to sweep you off your feet.” His words were spoken with a blend of sincerity and affection, making Y/N’s heart flutter even more.

Y/N’s smile widened as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and love. “You always know how to make everything feel special,” she said softly.

San gave her a playful wink and took her hand, guiding her towards the awaiting limousine. “Come on, let’s go. I have a whole day planned for us, and I want to make sure it’s unforgettable.”

Together, they walked towards the car, their laughter mingling with the city sounds as they stepped into the luxurious vehicle, ready to embark on an adventure that was as thrilling and unique as their love story.

[hederasgarden]

@whoaa-nellie's recent ask got me thinking about writing a Acacius x reader x Lucius fic.

I have a hard time seeing it work within the setting of the movie but now my brain is thinking about a modern AU where the reader hires both of them from Gladiator, an exclusive male escort service specializing in high-end companions.

Maybe she's interviewing them to see who would be the best fit for a high-profile event she needs to attend.

Or perhaps she's trying to make an ex jealous by showing up with both of them on her arm. A friend sets it up and she’s embarrassed but intrigued. Maybe they even run into her ex during the “get to know you” lunch date and both men lean into their roles. 😮‍💨

Another possibility is a shy, older reader looking to lose her virginity. She interviews them both to determine who should do it and they offer her a two for one deal....

I'm thinking thots tonight folks.

[thevyladsafespace]

My "My Inner Demons" overhaul

alright, since I'm bored- here's what I got so far.

I renamed Asch's kingdom to Phobos, in reference to the original term of Daemos (probably an aphmau 'sound it out' name like Ein and whatnot.) With Mars' moons. Phobos and Deimos. While the general species of Asch's kingdom are referred to as Daemos.

Appropriately, I gave the kingdom a family name. Dacite, a type of Volcanic rock. Asch Dacite, Rhal Dacite. ectect.

Backstory time:

Noi Barter. I gave him the backstory of "sole survivor" from a long dead and fallen land, the story of a late bloomer/ someone whose actually more powerful than the rest. He just has amnesia. The key item being the locket around his neck, changed from a lightning bolt. To a sun shape. Spending most of his days fighting for his food, he found strength in stealth and being quiet. Due to having little muscle mass compared to his future companions made it easy for him to sneak into Phobos. Being caught and eventually set up for Execution, Asch recruited him. Being the last addition and stuff. (Similar to the original story, but I put a bigger spin on it since we know very little of a majority of them.))

Leif and Pierce now come from very different kingdoms. Since.. an entire universe dedicated to one kingdom is weird.

Feng Leif, or just Leif appropriately is from a Chinese-inspired kingdom, exiled for assassination crimes, later hired by Asch the same way in canon. And leaning into another horned creature from the same culture, the Dragon. While his name was chosen by himself after seeing it somewhere. While knowing it correlates to wind, which I HC him being rather proficient in using it with magic. And instead of.. entirely insane maniac, he's definitely smarter than he appears. Not book smart, but very street smart and survival wise. The insanity is a choice for him. Instead of being soothed/ calmed by an E-girl over time. (/lh j)

(The rest of the designs are being worked on. I'll make full body posts later. )) Pierce Stone, making him originate from a Japanese-inspired kingdom. Y'know, with his kimono and whatnot, I'm leaning into my other culture fixation! Youkai. I made Pierce an Oni. A wanderer that eventually got hired like the rest, by Asch himself. How? I'm toying with the idea Pierce signed up for a tournament/ exhibition kind of event in Phobos. Recognized by Asch and eventually hired.

Rhys Wynn, (It's pronounced Reese, Aphmau.) is a scholar from Phobos. Someone finally from the same Kingdom as Asch. Designated by Lady Grandma to be an assistant to Asch. It's.. pretty straight forward with him, I'd say.