#illusionnet

Red was a colour you’d always been fixated on for multiple reasons. It’s distinctive, quite possibly the most conspicuous of its kind given all the connotations and implications attached to its name. It was very well-revered. A favourite of many.

Today, though, red was nothing more than the chipped polish on your fingernails as they rapped a restless rhythm against the black glass of your desk. It was sleek, cold, and reflective enough to catch the glint of irritation in your eyes. Red was the soles of your Louboutin, itching to fly across the table and meet a certain someone’s annoyingly composed face.

"Any time now, Mr. Park," you said, clearing your throat with purposeful sharpness. Your nails tapped louder, more deliberately. “It’s all in writing, Seonghwa. What exactly is there to think about?”

This contract was supposed to be signed twenty minutes ago. Your patience was fraying. Seonghwa was skating on thin ice by the second. All you wanted was to be done. The longer he stalled, the hotter your blood ran. The red in your vision sharpened.

Seonghwa, the smug bastard, didn’t even flinch. He met your glare through lashes too long to be fair, a fleeting smirk tugging at his lips as he tapped the contract once. “You’re forgetting, I’m the one getting the short end of the stick here,” he said with infuriating calm, waving a hand. 

“Take it up to Yeosang,” you seethed, the smile on your face not vanishing even though your tone was nothing but. “He’s the one who drafted it. I’m only here to make sure you sign it. I’ve no desire to be part of this project you have with him and my dad. Don’t make this hard for me.”

“Or,” Seonghwa drawled, setting the contract aside with a provoking slide of his fingertips, his eyes shining with mischief and intent as he leaned forward. You narrowed your eyes, already not liking what he was about to say before he opened his mouth. “You just want to spend the whole day with Mr. Dreamboat over there.”

Your breath hitched and his smirk deepens as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, not even bothering to look behind him like he already knew what - or, who - was there all along. You gritted your teeth. Bastard.

“Ah, what was his name again?” Seonghwa pretended to think, tapping his chin mockingly. “Your hunk of a bodyguard who could literally kill a man with his eyes alone.”

“You could ask him, yourself,” you shrugged, the gesture weaker than you’d intended it, your voice coming out as a tremble rather than a statement. “He does speak. Just like you and me. I reckon you’d find that San’s quite the intellectual once you give him your time.”

San. Granted, he was outside your office but you didn’t even have to look at him, you just knew. You could picture him standing so still you doubted he breathed, his arms crossed, jaw sharp, eyes always watching like he had been carved from the very shadows he stood in.

But you couldn’t help it. You lifted your head and the moment you did, your eyes met with his for the briefest of seconds before you shifted your attention back to Seonghwa. His stare alone was enough to shake the carefully built wall of composure you'd spent years perfecting. 

Seonghwa chuckled, low and amused, his head shaking slowly back and forth, the playfulness in his eyes dissolving entirely. He tapped a finger to his temple. “He’s on your mind. Not me, not the contract. Him.”

He finally signs the contract he’s been toying with like a cat who found a mouse to play with, before standing up. You stayed seated, not trusting your legs to not give out if you tried to walk Seonghwa out. He was about to turn, but he stopped himself midway. A slow, almost demented grin spreads through his lips when stared back at you. Your lips twitch to a frown, confusion settling on your face when Seonghwa walks back towards you with calculated steps. “W-What?” You stuttered when he leaned down abnormally close to your face.

Seonghwa tilted his head, his hand touching the collar of your blouse. “I mean, your tits are basically out,” he pointed out with a smirk. “Trying to seduce him?”

“You hound,” you hissed, swatting his hand away. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, Park Seo—“

He rolled his eyes before finally walking away with his devious giggles along the way. “Whatever you say. Toodles, Y/N.”

You sighed exasperatedly, the sound of it louder than it should have been as it reverberated around the empty conference room. Frustration crawls up your skin, the short meeting between you and Seonghwa shouldn’t have ended like this.

Now you had to fix your purposefully exposed chest, but how were you going to do that when he was now entering the room to stand directly in front of you? Your head pounded, cheeks blushed as his uncaring eyes bore onto yours. A part of you wanted to leave yourself exposed just so you could see if he’d notice. If he’d finally say something and react to you.

And he did. Of course he did. But not in the way you’d always wanted him to see you. His eyes, sharp and all-seeing, never once strayed from your face or past your neck to look at what you were offering him. 

“You know,” you drawled out, voice smooth and velvety, straightening your spine and purposefully pushing your breasts out in hopes to make him snap his composure.  “You might as well say something if you’re going to stare at me.”

A long pause. For a second, you thought he might not respond. That he’d turn away and ignore you like he always did whenever you started to talk like this. His voice, when it came, was low and measured. “I am required to look at you and be at your disposal at all times for your protection,” was all he said. “My apologies if my presence has made you uncomfortable.”

You faltered, the small smile on your face dropping immediately. Your posture breaks slightly, your back wanting to slouch, and the only reason why it didn’t was because you knew he did not disappoint. I’ll get you one day, Choi San. Just wait and see.

It was hard to look at him sometimes. Everyday was a brand new rejection, and yet you kept coming back, hoping this would be the moment you’d finally see something in his eyes that would tell you that perhaps, there was something in there, after all. It was hard to look at him sometimes because his nonchalance towards your seduction always, always pissed you off. This man was a rock and you hated it.

You stared at him as he started to take a tentative step towards you, shrugging his coat off without seeming to even think about it. “I reckon it’s cold outside,” he murmured, putting it over your shoulders. “Best if you cover up. Shall I reprimand Mr. Park for his audacity? Or, perhaps,  tell Mr. Kang what he had done, instead?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you pulled his coat closer to your body, hoping that his scent would somehow embed itself onto your skin. “Is that all, San?”

San’s eyes lingered on the carefully undone disarray that Seonghwa left you in. Shame washes over you in waves, and for a moment, you wished for them to whisk you away to let the ocean take you as you buttoned your blouse back. Tsk. Years ago shame was scared of you. You had no idea why now, why him. 

You couldn’t look at San, not fully. His gaze was so steady, so unfaltering in its scrutiny that you wanted to hide from it. And then, finally, he looked away. “That’s all,” he said, his voice softer now, the ghost of something gentler there before it vanished entirely. “Let’s go home, my lady. I’ll drive.”

He was already turning before you could say anything else. You hated how your pulse still fluttered for him. He was someone who never took the bait when everybody kneeled before you.

Oh, the irony. If there was anyone I would kneel for, it would’ve been no one but you.

Unfortunately, you had to return to the company the next day. No matter, it would give you more excuses to see San, especially given that you didn’t return his coat back to him on purpose. You stared at it the entire night while it was draped over your vanity chair, thinking of all the ways you could try to get under his skin and possibly get him to react to anything that you did. You’ve never lost, and you won’t start now.

There you were, walking towards the elevator with the proudest smirk on your face and with purpose on your strides. Seeing your bodyguard would be the highlight of your day. Of course, he was already there, leaning in the far corner, arms folded, that bulletproof calm pressed into every inch of his posture.

Your hand tightened on San’s coat that was draped over you. The fabric felt soft, familiar, but also heavy like it had absorbed all the unspoken words, all the little gestures that had once meant something but had faded into the space between you. His eyes flicked to the coat. Then back to the elevator buttons.

Nothing else. No reaction. Just a single glance, like you’d worn a sock he vaguely recognized. Your eyes twitched. “Morning, San,” you cooed, pressing the close button. “Hope you slept well last night. I sure did with your coat keeping me warm.”

Silence. The elevator hums and floors pass, but nothing. Still, you weren’t giving up. “It could have been you, you know?” You said sweetly. “But alas, this coat would do. It smells vaguely of you with a tinge of blissful ignorance.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. San stared at you blankly. Amused, almost. “I would say it’s accurately labeled, my lady.”

You grinned. God, he was good. You loved it when someone played the game you spoke of very well. You loved it when the opponent was stone-walled. You will love it when you’ve finally broken down San’s walls. “Hmm,” you purred. “I could’ve sworn I saw something in your eyes when you wrapped me in it.”

“Must’ve been a mistake” he said, voice flat. “Mr. Park did a splendid job distracting you.”

“Ah, so you noticed.”

“I’m paid to observe hazards,” he deadpanned. “You qualify.”

The elevator chimed  and the doors opened, much to your dismay. You could play this game with San forever and be content with it. He stepped out first, scanning the hallway like usual, all business and bullet-readiness. You followed, swishing his coat just enough to make sure he saw. To your regret, he looked and walked away, his stupidly attractive face not giving away any sort of expression to see if he was affected by your blatant flirting. You clicked your tongue when you saw none.

You were used to it though. He barely looked at you unless it was part of his job. He didn’t flirt, didn’t laugh at your sarcastic remarks, didn’t give you that satisfied buzz of control when you walked into a room. He resisted you. That alone made him worth chasing.

The meeting was a bore. Granted, you were only a stand in since your father wasn’t available, but it was what you’d describe as a colossal train wreck. It was a blessing in disguise, this could be a good bargaining chip to shove up your father’s face as to why you would refuse to stand in his place in the future if he’s not able to.

The entire time, however, all you could think about was San. You fiddled with his coat again, not even bothering to pay attention to the poor bloke who was giving the most disorderly presentation known to mankind, the familiar fabric providing you solid ground to keep yourself leveled whether you admitted it or not.

What is it that you have to do to get to him? What are you missing? A couple of months ago, you would have thought that you were the issue, but seeing as San’s eyes never flicked towards you or showed no signs of intrigue, you can certainly say with perfect conviction that it was definitely not you.

“My lady. There’s that bakery you’ve been fancying lately,” you heard San’s soft voice that you’ve come to find soothing in times where you longed to hear it the most the moment you got out of the meeting room, smiling tightly and bowing lightly at the people who left as well. “Would you like to go before we stop by your parents’ house?”

San protectively assumes position by your left, walking beside you towards the parking lot. A small smirk paints your lips. “Depends. Would you happen to be on the menu?” You teased as he opened the car door for you to enter.

He ignored you as he opened the other side of the door and sat beside you at the back seat, the lull of the radio on minimal volume filling in the distance between the both of you that was miles apart even though he was within arm’s reach from you. You rolled your eyes.

Just before you’d started to wonder if you went a little too far with that remark, San was already looking at you with those deep eyes that held an unsettling clarity in their gaze. They were unwavering, studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m afraid not,” he said slowly. “I recall bakeries traditionally offering a selection of delicacies that geared towards pastries and the likes.”

Of course.

Your lips twitched against your will, not being able to stop them from lifting up the corners from his outward rejection towards your very straightforward attempts. His directness used to annoy you because you never got the responses you wanted, but now, they just amused you to no end. “Ah, maybe next time, then. Thank you for asking,” you chuckled. “Have I…ever told you how nice your eyes were, San?”

There was a part of you that wanted to bite your tongue or take back what you’d said, but for all the rubbish that you’ve spit out, you’ve never been more honest than you were now. It was true, San’s eyes shimmered like pools of deep water, drawing you in the way the night sky entices with the promise of endless mystery.

And right now, there was a sharpness in them, as if he was weighing you, calculating the sincerity behind your words, or perhaps, your lack of them. “No, my lady,” San replied nonchalantly. “I don’t think you have.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Have you always been sparse with your words?”

He blinked. “Only towards things that aren’t of learning value.”

You tilted your head, challenging his resolve. “What if I fire you? Say, for insubordination? Some other rich bastard would’ve already done so.”

You would never do that, though you wouldn’t tell him. You had a big ego, but it wasn’t that big. That seemed to render San into silence. You wanted to smirk. Finally. But, of course, San wasn’t the most average man out there.

“Not once have I thought of you to fire someone unjustly,” San replied slowly, his formal tone almost making your eyes roll. “But if you must, I would accept it with grace.”

Your jaw ticked. You wanted to scream into the void. Hell, you had better chances of getting answers from the void rather than your fucking bodyguard at this point. You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You give me a headache,” you said.

“Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell, my lady?”

You wanted to scoff. Leave it to San to basically tell you that you were basically speaking in tongues. You couldn’t even be mad - you were just impressed at this point. He was the master of avoiding every interaction with you.

“I’m fine,” you replied curtly, leaving the conversation at that. You turned your head back to the windows, opting to stare at the beauty of the passing city that was blurring into your peripherals the more the car flew by. The sides of your face burned with each ticking second that San spent boring holes onto them, but you ignored him this time.

If you closed your eyes, you could still see the image of San the very first time you saw him a couple of months ago. It had burned itself behind your eyelids, the moment - the feeling - seared onto your brain for years and years to come. 

You never wanted a bodyguard. Not once in your life had you thought that you had the need for a glorified babysitter who would be constantly watching your every move, monitoring your every breath and sigh, and just overall someone who you’d be required to adjust to and fit into your daily routine while pretending that their presence wasn’t bothering you.

“You are the heir to my company, Y/N. The successor of all the sacrifices I’ve made to finally reach the upper echelon of the business world,” your father brought up one day when he randomly called you into his office. “And I need you protected at all times. Our rivals are getting bolder.”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth back then, clenching your fists as hard as you could as if it bottled all the frustrations you’ve been harbouring. “We talked about this before. I am not interested in the company. I’m not interested now nor would I be in the near future, if ever. That means I don’t want a walking, talking bouncer on me all damn day.”

The problem was that you were not one bit interested in being tied down to that type of life. You didn’t want to dedicate the majority of your life doing something you can never see yourself enjoying no matter how good you were.

“Make no mistake, this isn’t up for discussion,” your father crossed his arms. Supposedly that’s where you got your defiant personality. “This isn’t a request, Y/N. It’s an order. You will get a bodyguard and that’s final.”

You combed your hair in vexation, a laugh of disbelief bubbling up your lungs. “Fine,” you sneered, not bothering to hide your ire. “What’s in it for me? Surely, you don’t expect me to agree that easily?”

Your father’s smirk back then should’ve told you everything you needed to know. “Here, take it,” he handed you a thick stack of paperwork. “You have full liberty of choosing your bodyguard since you’re the one they’ll be tailing around. That also means you have full discretion of his schedule, his location, your dynamic, down to whoever it is,” he said, staring pointedly at the papers you now hold. “Take your pick—”

“Here,” you said, ripping one from the middle of the stack. You didn’t even bother to check who it was. Without giving it a second thought, you shoved the paperwork back into his hands. “Take it from here. I don’t need to waste time on this.”

It wasn’t that you were being rude. You just didn’t see the point. Would it really matter who you picked? Would it change anything? Your father let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your defiance. “Just remember, you’re not getting out of this.”

You shot him one last glare before turning back to leave his office. “We'll see about that.”

And now, here you were, still haunted by the memory of seeing San for the very first time. It’s been three months, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling you had that warm Sunday morning, the warmest it’s been all summer, when San knocked on your door for the first time to introduce himself.

You hadn’t been expecting anyone that day. Hell, you weren’t expecting anyone at all. You had totally forgotten that conversation with your father about the bodyguard you never wanted. But there he was - tall and broad-shouldered, wearing that same unreadable expression he had now that had caught you off guard the moment he showed up. 

“C-Can I help you?” You stuttered, momentarily taken aback at the gorgeous man with the sharp eyes staring at you as he stood stiffly on the other side of your door.

“Choi San,” he’d said, voice steady, almost too calm. “The new security detail you’d chosen?”

You cursed internally. You didn’t think your father actually went through that bullshit he was spewing. “R-Right,” you cleared your throat. “Have you been briefed?”

He shook his head. “Not much, no. I was told to go straight here,” he spoke quietly, but firmly. 

It had started with a polite handshake, something he probably did out of politeness, before you begrudgingly invited him inside your penthouse. For a moment, you caught yourself staring at his side profile, your head tilting up slightly just to even get a glimpse, the way his shoulders tensed as they almost bumped into yours. He didn’t even look at you.

Odd, you thought back then. You weren’t used to being ignored, it was a completely foreign feeling to you and you did not like it one bit. You reined in the twitch of your lips. You’ll just have to see what this man was made out of. If you were going to have someone tailing you, you might as well enjoy it, especially since this one was undoubtedly attractive.

“Sit, make yourself comfortable,” you motioned, walking in front of him, flicking your hair seductively along with the alluring sway of your hips and your plush ass, your voice taking on a suggestive tone.  “Tell me what exactly it is you plan on doing now that you’re here.”

But San didn’t sit. In fact, he didn’t even move. He simply looked at you with an unreadable gaze, his hands tucked neatly at his sides, his back so straight that it made your own back ache just by looking at him. You faltered, momentarily freezing at how stoic and nonchalant this man was acting around you. There was only that cold, steady stare that unnerved you more than you were willing to admit. You almost felt small. That was new. 

“I’ll do what I was hired to do,” he said simply, and for the first time, there was the faintest trace of disinterest in his voice. 

Oh? You squinted your eyes, now frustrated at this man’s total disregard at your attempts to grab his attention. Was it you? That couldn’t be, you were definitely an attractive woman. So what was it? You refused to believe that someone wasn’t falling for your charms.

You remembered how he looked so out of place standing in front of you back then, like he had no intention of fitting in. Like he didn’t even care about fitting in. You were used to being wanted, adored, admired. You could blink and people bent over backward to get your attention. But San?

Then, there were his eyes. That was something that never did change even after all these months. Deep, dark, almost unnervingly intense. They weren’t the kind of eyes that softened when they met yours. You remembered crossing your legs, your dress riding up to show that small sliver of skin up your creamy thighs, as well as your arms to position your arms under your shapely breasts, pushing them up to a point that if you leaned forward even a little, you wouldn’t doubt that they would spill out from your bra. 

“That’s all? What a bore,” you purred, clicking your tongue after, purposefully taking a deep breath that made your breasts puff up even more, watching closely if he’ll break a sweat. “You’re not even going to talk to me?”

San’s eyes met yours dead on. He didn’t even blink, nor did his composure falter. But yours certainly did. “With all due respect, I’m here to be your shadow and protector,” he ascertained, voice tightlining between professional and sarcastic. “I won’t be at your disposal just to entertain you. I wasn’t hired for that.”

You were startled out of that memory by the door being unlocked and the sight of  San holding the umbrella to prevent the rain from casting down upon you. You stepped out, placing a hand on San’s bulked out biceps for support, but not before grazing your hand with his warm one. He pulled away as if you had burned him intensely.

“You should come inside,” you offered with a small smirk, squeezing his bicep just enough to solidify the touch you had on him. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the faintest pull you had towards him. “I could make you coffee.”

It was bullshit and you knew both knew it. He shrugged your hand off of his bicep, not even looking at you. “I’d rather not,” he whispered quietly. “I’ll be waiting in the car with the driver. Send my regards to Mr. Kang and First Master Yeosang.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when San walked past you, opening the car door to get in.  Though if you were honest, you could have sworn you heard the faintest crack in your ego at his blatant rejection. He always denied going into your house, always stating that his job involved protecting you, not pleasing your father.

Fair, you thought as you walked past the grandeur of the golden gates that served as the barricade between the world and the house you grew up in. You were the one to brief San, after all. Well, not entirely since Yeosang oversaw the hiring process to barely brief San in person, but that was it. Everything else was you.

When you randomly picked out San’s resume out of all the other applicants, your father instructed his assistant, Kim Hongjoong, to contact him and send him directly to you. You blazed in anger amidst your bruised pride at San’s refusal to give in to your seduction - your petty father had thrown you both into the deep end, keeping San in the dark on purpose.

Your father never met him, never explained his role beyond the vague title of “bodyguard.” San had no idea what the job truly entailed - or how far he’d be expected to go to protect you. In an act of malicious compliance for your rebellion, your father dumped full responsibility onto you, despite your lack of experience in hiring anyone.

San was yours to command. Your father simply paid his salary, but beyond that, San was entirely at your disposal. You wouldn’t be surprised if your father forgot that San was technically on his payroll.

It was difficult. You were pretty sure San saw how ill-prepared you were at giving him commands. And still, San stayed. Silent, reliable, distant, but present. That made you want his attention even more. You had gotten used to everything coming easily, and San? He was the one thing that didn’t come easily. He was everything you weren’t used to, and in that sense, he became something you needed to figure out.

Love at first sight.. How sordid. It would make sense because it would explain the instantaneous attraction you had with him and you were still holding on to that specific memory like it was a fragile treasure you didn’t want to lose. But was it love at first sight, though?

Nah. 

San was someone your family wouldn’t approve of, he was your employee. San wasn’t the kind to care about your feelings. San was someone who didn’t give two bits of shits about you. San was unattainable, and you liked that.  He was a puzzle you couldn’t solve; a mystery you couldn’t unlock.

You always got what you wanted. Always. And you wanted San the moment you saw him for the first time. He was older, big, strong, a bit of a tough nut to crack, but he is only a man after all. You were so sure you could have him wrapped around your finger. You didn’t want his love. You just wanted to win. To break through that armor of disinterest and make him falter, even for a second. A glance. A crack. Something.

But if there was anything cracking, it wasn’t San. It was you and your resolve. This man did not look at you twice, did not linger longer than he was needed, did not look past down your neckline, did not break a single sweat, nothing. 

So you didn’t need a bodyguard. You still didn’t. But somehow, here you were, still haunted by the memory of the stoic figure who knocked on your door that warm summer morning. The game had changed. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be the one who’d finally lose.

“Is he here? Dad?” You asked the butler who had approached you and gingerly took the umbrella out of your grasp the moment you stepped in your childhood home. “Thank you.”

Your attention was caught by the telltale sound of dress shoes clacking from the furthest side of the room. They were Oxfords, you reckoned, and there was only one person you knew who wore Oxfords on a daily basis like they were the solution to mankind’s plight.

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother. “Why is it that every time you arrive, you never announce your presence?” Yeosang scoffed, clicking his tongue in faux disappointment. He crosses his arms, a smirk painting his face. “I trust you bring me good news?”

“Hello, Yeosang. I’m fine, thank you very much for asking. Travels were safe, not too much traffic,” you sneered, your teeth grinding in annoyance and in the adoration you tried not to peek through. “But yes, Seonghwa signed yesterday. Hesitate to put me and him in the same room next time, please. Are you going out with Wooyoung?”

He nodded. “Him being the Security Department Head gives him less time. I was on my way out to meet the bastard, but I’ll cancel for you.”

“Let him. What he does is hard,” you chuckled, mentally thanking Woooyung for technically assigning San to you even though you picked him out. “Don’t let me stop you. I have to talk to Dad anyway.”

Yeosang hummed in dismay. He raises his arm to sling it around your shoulders like he always did, but halts midway to raise a brow, the tips of his fingers feeling the coat you had forgotten you had. “Who’s is this? Doubt it’s Seonghwa’s. Dude’s a germaphobe and a half.”

You frowned, gripping San’s coat and pulling it closer to your body as if to protect it from Yeosang’s scrutiny. “First off, I wouldn’t touch anything of Seonghwa’s within a ten foot pole,” you huffed. “And this is San’s. I didn’t know it was going to rain and I wasn’t dressed warm enough when I left this morning.”

Confusion crosses Yeosang’s face, his hand gradually dropping back to his side. “Who?”

“Who? San? My bodyguard,” you frowned, feeling slightly offended for San’s sake. “You know, the bodyguard Dad shoved down my throat repeatedly until I got sick of denying him and just let him have his way?”

You weren’t an angel, no. The things you wanted to do to San weren’t heavenly, by all means, but you couldn’t help but feel offended on his behalf. No matter how frustrated you were with his denial, it wasn’t fair for San to be forgotten when his job was to literally keep you safe. 

“Huh,” Yeosang muttered, tilting his head like he was making a note to himself, not responding to you. “I didn’t know that’s what you called him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You said, raising a brow, almost like it hurt to even ask. “People have names and therefore should be called as such. It’s called basic respect, Sangie. Regardless if they're....”

You trailed off, the insinuation bringing a bitter taste to your mouth. San deserved better than that. You could argue that, perhaps, you could be a better person in general, but even you knew where the line was. Pretending like someone didn’t deserve a name? That crossed it.

Yeosang was about to open his mouth and retort but lost the opportunity when someone else crossed the living room - someone you were looking forward to seeing, but someone you wished you didn’t have to see at the same time. 

“Y/N, my precious one, why is it that you never announce your arrival?” Your father grinned, his entire face lighting up with joy while all you could do was roll your eyes at Yeosang who was smirking at you. “Come, come, give this old man a hug. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You clicked your tongue, rolling your eyes once more, but gave your father a tight hug anyway, one that he returned. “I was just about to have some tea on the patio. I could use some company.”

You groaned internally, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. “I’ll think about it.”

It was how you found yourself sitting across from your father, who sipped his tea with practiced grace, eyes peeking over the rim of his cup to study you. “So,” he began, placing the cup down to finally face you, his signature businessman look replacing his easygoing one. “I heard about the meeting today. Kim says it was disastrous.”

“Hongjoong,” you looked him straight in the eye, something only you could do and he knew it. “Would be correct. These people have no respect towards the board. They didn’t even prepare a presentation that would corroborate if our data coincides with our monthly reports. Terrible.”

You were giving him the bare minimum and he knew it. “You know, slacking won’t make it go away,” he said gently with a soft smile. “The company. Your name. It’s still waiting.”

“I know, I’m trying, I really am,” you murmured, eyes fixed on a spot beyond the garden hedge. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

Your father gave a slow nod, accepting but not entirely satisfied. “Then find something you do want. Don’t just float.”

You turned to him finally, and for a second, the sharp edges in your chest softened. A memory flashes through your mind amidst all your thoughts. You had to hide your smile by sipping on your tea again. It was one of the few instances where San actually spoke to you. You’d come to understand that he wasn’t exactly a conversation starter and you wanted to change that.

“You seem so…stiff all the time,” you shrugged, trailing behind him as he made his rounds on the perimeter of your office, perhaps lurking around for danger that’s not even there. “Have you ever thought of loosening up? Just once?”

San stops walking, his hands still behind his back, not bothering to even look at you, but you could tell he was at the end of his wits with how the veins in his neck were bulging at an alarming rate. “Forgive me for asking,” he said. “Have you thought of ever being normal?”

Usually, that would’ve set alarm bells in your head. You would have been offended if this was any other person, but this was San. San was different. San was someone you wanted. You laughed, shaking your head. “No, not really. You drive me crazy, you know?”

He sighed, fully intending to ignore the last statement and resumed his walking, or should you say, prowling judging by how intense he inspected your surroundings. “I figured as much.”

“Why?” You questioned, tilting your head in curiosity. “You say that as if it’s such a bad thing. And you’re still here as my bodyguard, so I would assume it doesn’t bother you as much.”

“My paycheque is rather hefty,” he deadpanned. “Money keeps me employed.”

“Ah, you say that as if the job itself is difficult and tiresome,” you shrugged.

“It isn’t. However,” he pauses, staring at you with that quiet, calculating look in his eyes before looking away again. You were glad he did. He barely looked you in the eye, but when he did, it always left you breathless. “Anyhow. Do you always wear your heart on your sleeves?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re predictable, my lady,” he said. “And that is what makes the job bearable.”

San was the first person to ever tell you something everybody knew but refused to say to your face straight-on and out loud - that, indeed, you wore your heart on your sleeves. As difficult as you were to handle, it wasn’t at all difficult to figure out what you were thinking.

Your dad’s eyes soften. He reaches for a biscuit, the one with the tart raspberry filling in the middle - your favourite - and hands it to you. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said. “At least tell me you’re working somehow.”

You looked away the moment he said that. “Yeah, yeah. I got that going at least,” you murmured through your teeth. It was half the truth; you were working, alright, but only once a week. That’s what you had Yunho, your secretary, for. Hopefully, your dad doesn’t find out.

“And speaking of things under your jurisdiction,” he cleared his throat. “How’s Choi Jongho doing? I heard he’s doing very well under you. It would do you well to keep him around. I’ll have to re-evaluate him soon. I heard he sang high praises about you during the meeting.”

You closed your eyes with a grimace. It was a pause long enough to be suspicious, partly because you had no idea who he was talking about. You barely went to work, let alone knew the names of the people who were supposed to be working with you. Chances are, he was one of the employees during the disastrous meeting.

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Good employee. Very efficient, very professional.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said. “Should I ask him if you’re going to the company consistently, then?

Ah, fuck. You turned to him, a blush of embarrassment creeping on your cheeks. “Dad, I can explain.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the moment linger for a little before chuckling, shaking his head. “Listen, it doesn’t concern me what you do in your free time, but at least try,” he filled your cup with more tea before pushing it towards you. “Our company will prosper if he’s with you. I hired him for a reason.”

“If that’s the case,” you frowned, getting ready to argue with him. “Why not have Yeosang do it? You said it yourself, if I tried, then I’d be busy.”

Your father raised a brow. “That’s counterintuitive.  Your brother doesn’t need him. We need you more than ever. You know how the Songs get, those wretched bastards…”

You bit your lip. The Songs were your family’s biggest competitors since the dawn of time. They played dirty and while you weren’t into company politics, you were not the biggest fan of how the Songs played their games. And things were about to get messier now that they were pushing Song Mingi for the CEO position. “Alright. You win, I will. I promise.”

“I know. I always do,” he smiled, making you roll your eyes. He pushes more biscuits in your direction. “Eat first. Maybe you’ll finally get the energy you need and actually do your part in the company, at least, even if you don’t want to inherit it.”

“I’m afraid biscuits aren’t going to be enough, Dad,” you smirked, taking a piece anyway and biting into it.

He laughed, and for a moment, it was just tea and biscuits again before the weight of your  legacy and destiny crept back in.

You did promise your father that you were going to try and do your part in the company even if it was the bare minimum. But you didn’t specify when. And that was definitely not going to be today. No, you had better plans for yourself than to step into that hellhole. You paused as you were putting your shoes on. Well, it wasn’t a hellhole, not entirely, you just didn’t want to go.

You had to hurry, though. Yunho was determined to pull you back. You had texted him last night, told him you didn’t want to go, but he’d been insistent. It wasn’t like him to let you get away so easily. You had even told San to wait for you in the parking lot just so you could get out of your place as quickly as you possibly could. He raised a curious brow, a rare show of expression for him, but chose not to question it.

You smirked, you had plans today. Maybe today was the day you could finally get your stoic bodyguard to crack a little. You were already giddy thinking about it, but the moment you opened your door to step out, your smirk drops instantly.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Yunho asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. He raises a brow, looking you up and down. “Sometimes, I wonder what goes on through your head. At least Seonghwa’s head is in the game, but you?”

Jeong Yunho was who you would call, for the lack of a better term, your original babysitter. He was the company’s Head Legal Counsel, the one who oversaw everything that had to do with litigation and legal advice when it came to paperwork. He was a brilliant one at that, too, but besides that, he had taken it upon himself to assist you until you got your bearings.

He was you and Yeosang’s childhood friend along with Seonghwa. He had always been the serious one in your silly group whereas Seonghwa was the laidback one, but you had always been closer to him growing up. It had been that way when you were kids, when he first stepped in and became a kind of unofficial babysitter to you up until this day.

“What are you doing here?” You shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “I haven’t seen your face in weeks and this is how you finally show up on me?”

Yunho’s job involved him being more of an online presence than anything. Zoom meetings were how you, or anyone in general, would have to contact him. “You know damn well why I’m here,” he scoffed. “You have a job, and I’m here to make sure you do it well.”

“I told you, Yunho,” you sighed, your tone more serious now. “I don’t want to deal with it. Not today. Can you just handle it for me, please?”

His eyes softened a little. He was the only one who knew the depth of how much you didn’t want to take over the company. “I can, but it doesn’t mean I should. The Songs are getting desperate. They’re bribing our people, love. Yeosang had to fire multiple of our executives this morning for selling company information to them and data breaching.”

Your brows shot up in mild surprise. You couldn’t say you were too surprised, but the fact that it was an open secret now was staggering. For once, you did feel bad. Yunho looked exhausted and he sounded frustrated, something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen in him in a while.

“Damn it,” you hissed, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples in agitation. “I really didn’t want to stress you out like this, Yun, I really am.”

It was maddening. You were mad at your Dad for not listening to you when all you’ve wanted was to be shackled away from the responsibilities you told him over and over again you didn’t want any part of. You were mad at yourself for dragging your poor friend through the mud when all he’s been doing was to help you out.

But you were madder at the Songs. Just because you didn’t want your company doesn’t mean you were happy that someone was messing with it. This was your father’s hard-earned work, your mother’s legacy.

“I know, love. It’s not your fault,” a soft sigh escaped his lips. He finally stepped closer, handing you a sleek black folder you didn’t even know he was holding. “I already handled it. All this needs is your signature and then you can drop it off. Attend a short meeting and you can do whatever you want after.”

You hummed, taking the folder from him. It had a surprising amount of weight on it. “What’s in this?”

Yunho looked left and right, gauging if there were people close by, and when he deemed the coast clear, he leaned closer to you. “Internal affairs,” he whispered in a voice so hushed, you could barely hear him. “Trade secrets. Please, and I mean, please do not let this out of your sight. Our numbers, strategy, future drafts - they’re all here. We’re screwed if this gets out.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking through the papers inside the folder. He was right, you were basically holding the future of the company in your hands. “Alright,” you said. “What time do I have to drop it off?”

“Four in the afternoon. You have time, but I have to go. I still have to draft some paperwork for that project between Yeosang and Seonghwa,” Yunho murmured. ”And I was told that you should give the folder to Jongho. It’ll be safer with him.”

Who? You wanted to blurt out, but bit your tongue at the last second. You didn’t want another lecture from Yunho about how much you were slacking off again. Great, you thought. Another person I have to learn about when I get to work. Jesus.

“Sure,” you absentmindedly agreed, hugging the folder to your chest for safety measures before reaching up and putting your hand gently on the back of his neck to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. We’ll catch up soon.  Say hi to Hwa for me, will you?”

He simply nodded, giving you a kiss of his own on your forehead. “I will. Take care, love.”

Your steps were heavy, but the further you walked, the more you realised that the folder wasn’t the thing that was holding you down - it was the newly added burden and load on your back with all the newfound information you got from Yunho. You were at a loss and you could only imagine how your father reacted to the news. It was getting harder to stay away most especially because you did not want to completely turn your back away from your family as a whole.

Those thoughts plaguing your head were the reason you completely forgot that San has been waiting for you in the parking lot for quite some time. You had caught him just in time taking his phone out of his pocket, presumably to call you; something you instructed him to do if you were ever late to anything in general.

Seeing his relieved expression when you walked closer to him brought an unexplainable amount of joy in you. You smirked, easily seeing yourself forgetting all your worries temporarily in the name of teasing your attractive bodyguard.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you smirked, swaying your hips purposefully as you walked towards him to rile him up for your own amusement. “Got held up a little, you see. I’m sure you could understand.”

You could see San trying his damned hardest to not roll his eyes. You have to give it to him, really, San’s professionalism was something you’ve always admired in him given that you weren’t the easiest client to deal with.

“No worries, my lady,” he murmured, opening the back door of the car for you to enter. You tried not to stare at the way his big hands wrapped around the car handle. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

It was hard not to notice how much he tensed when you stood beside him. San cleared his throat, subtly inching away from you by stepping back once. You didn’t mind his avoidance today. In fact, you kind of liked it. It kept things interesting, and after all, what was life without a little fun?

“Is that so?” You leaned in just a little closer, enough to get a whiff of the musky cologne he always wore; the one you smelled even when he was not around. “Did you miss me while I was gone?”

His lips twitched, still avoiding eye contact with you. “I missed it when you were absent,” he deadpanned.

You scoffed at the sarcasm, your lips curving into a wolfish grin. This was why you were so drawn to him. San’s ability to garner your entire attention by not asking or begging for it always left you reeling and wanting for more. It was exhilarating to find new ways to get under his skin. “Ah, don’t be like that,” you waved off. Suddenly, an idea pops in your head and your smile widens. “Actually, I’m not in the mood to sit in the back. I want to sit in the front seat this time. That alright, San?”

You bit your lips to stop yourself from laughing when you saw his left eye twitch. “Of course,” he agreed through gritted teeth, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary, the loud bang echoing throughout the entirety of the parking lot.

You shot him a playful smile as he opened the passenger door, letting your gaze linger a bit longer than necessary on his broad shoulders, the way his dark suit hugged his frame. There was something undeniably attractive about how he always seemed to be in control.

“After you, my lady,” he gestured lazily inside the car, waiting for you to get in. You could almost hear him telling himself to keep his cool, but the slight tension in his shoulders betrayed the calm exterior.

As usual, your hand found itself touching San’s bicep, guiding yourself gently even though you were capable enough to get into the car. “Hmm,” you purred flirtatiously. “Such a gentleman, San. I know you’ve always liked me.”

San’s expression was a blend of irritation and restrained amusement, his lips twitching at the edges as if he were fighting a smile. Or, perhaps, a snarl. His eyes flickered to you, then away. Your heart did a double-flip in your chest against your will. You weren’t kidding when you said you found his eyes beautiful.

There was something so attractive about the way his sharp eyes were trained on you. It was a look that said he knew you were testing him, pushing him just enough to see how far you'd get before he snapped. You could only wish that he was quietly impressed by your nerve.

“Well, what can I say?” San replied sarcastically the moment he got in the driver’s seat. “It’s not every day I get paid to stick around. You really know how to make someone feel so special.”

You breathe out a laugh, turning your head to look at him to say something back, but the words died on your tongue long before you could even try to get them out. This was the closest you’ve ever been to San. It was just you and him in the tight enclosure of the car. This was what you’ve always wanted to achieve, but now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. All your senses were starting to alight - your sight because all you could see was him. Your hearing because all you could hear was his steady breathing filling your ears as if it were syncing with your own.

Your taste because you could’ve sworn that your heart had practically leapt in your throat, and you could taste the anticipation. It was sweet and impossible to swallow. Your nose because you could smell the oncoming tension between you and San a mile away. Your touch because every inch of your skin was suddenly too aware of the electrifying sensation between the both of you.

You didn’t dare move. One breath too loud, one twitch too bold, and the fragile thread between you might snap or ignite. San’s gaze flicked to yours, and for a second, the world held its breath with you. You looked away, clearing your throat awkwardly, clutching the folder you had like it was your lifeline.. You only hoped that San couldn’t read what was going on in your mind.

“Well,” you began, a little bit too quirky and lighthearted even in your own ears for it to sound natural, trying to cover the tension that suddenly seized the space. “I’m about to make you feel even more special. I need a pen. Got documents to sign and some dude named Jongho to see.”

It was when his eyes shifted towards the folder you were holding. Whether it was because of the tension or the need to suddenly concentrate on something, his eyes focused so hard on the folder that you wouldn’t even be surprised if it suddenly caught on fire. But minutes passed, and he was still eyeing it. 

“What? I’m not brain-dead, you know,” you tried to joke out to lighten the uncertainty. “Contrary to what you think, I do do important stuff for the company. Signing paperwork is one of them.”

He blinked once, and the next time his eyes opened, they were already looking at you. It was a bit startling. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he was deep in thought, or maybe trying to read you just as hard as you were reading him.  Just then, he began to lean forward. His eyes deliberately never left yours as his entire body began to shift closer to you. You swallowed, your pulse slamming against your ribcage, your body going rigid. That steady, unreadable gaze pinned you in place was intentional.

Somehow, that was worse. Time warped and you stopped breathing entirely. He was so close at this point that you were able to see the small details that you wouldn’t have otherwise - the small, scattered freckles on his neck, his plump lips that were parted slightly, the slow blink of his individual lashes.

And his eyes, God, those eyes. There was a fire inside that started a riot in your heart and it was about to explode into flames. There was something so devastating in the way he looked at you, like he knew that the real heat was emanating from the outside, and it was coming from his body slowly inching closer and closer to you.

Click.

He reached past you, eyes still locked on yours, his face only a couple inches from yours. One move and it’ll all be over. He opened the glove compartment, his hand rummaging for something before he pulled out the pen you’d asked for. “Here,” he said, voice low and unreadable as he offered it to you like he just didn’t steal your breath away from your lungs.

You stared at the pen then at him. You didn’t grab it immediately and just let the pen hover in the air as he held it, your eyes refusing to cut contact from San’s. It was difficult and that was the truth. But, you weren’t backing down. You wouldn't be the one to look away. You let out a small smirk. Two can play this game.

You finally lifted your hand to take the pen, but you didn’t stop there, no. At first, you just wanted to graze your hand teasingly with his, but your impulsiveness made you grab his entire hand,  fingers curling gently around his as you slid the pen out from under them. Your fingers twitched, breath hitching, at the jolt of electricity that transpired between your fingertips.

San’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he raised a single brow at you. It wasn’t out of surprise. It was controlled, maddening, and unreasonably seductive. That one expression made your insides churn with heat and challenge. There was something so unbothered in the way he looked at you like he knew exactly what you were doing. It was as if he was daring you to continue. Go on, his eyes said. I want to see how far you’d take this.

There was a flicker of surprise that crossed your features when his thumb grazed lightly against your knuckles. You pulled away, the pen in hand and your pulse in your throat. Neither of you won. You looked away at the exact same time that San decided that the parking lot was now more interesting than whatever it was that transpired between the both of you.

“Thanks,” you said softly, unable to project your voice louder for fear of it cracking under the tension that squeezed you and San dry. 

San leaned back into his seat like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just lit a match and dropped it into the gasoline of your thoughts. “You’re welcome,” he rumbled, voice scratchy and raspy. “What’s the agenda, my lady?”

My lady. You were so used to him calling you that, heck, you didn’t even tell him to call you that in the first place but it just stuck when he refused to call you by your name. And you never minded, until now. For some reason, hearing him say it after what just happened made you feel a certain way that you didn’t understand yet.

Regardless, you were glad for the change of pace. This was a dangerous avenue for you, and it was something you were far less interested in exploring more than your inheritance and that was saying a lot.

“Let’s kill time for now. I’m taking your advice and will be passing through the bakery that I like,” you answered, skimming the paperwork carefully before placing your signature on every page that needed it. “Then at four in the afternoon, I just need to drop this paperwork off.”

“Important paperwork, I’m assuming?”

You paused, your pen halfway in the air as you stared at San. This was new, San had never once asked about whatever you were up to general, let alone anything that was related to work. “If you consider the future of the Kang Corporation important, then yes,” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You finished signing all of the paperwork without a hitch, suddenly remembering what Yunho said earlier before you left. A frown makes its way to your face, what was it that he said again? You could’ve sworn that it was about the paperwork, were you perhaps meant to give it to somebody?

You sighed. Damn it, you thought, side-eyeing San who was still looking out in the parking lot with the most detached eyes. You are the most distracting man ever, I swear.

A sigh leaves your lips again, this time, more exaggerated. It was the kind that was loud enough to be noticed. And you were right, San suddenly whips his head around to look at you, and when he does, you drop your head back against the headrest and brought the back of  hand to your forehead like you had some fever you couldn’t sweat out.

“God, I’m so stressed,” you whined with the fakest, more overdramatic pout you could muster. “Super stressed, I say. All this work, and for what? I swear nobody looks out for me.”

You shifted in your seat at lightning speed, turning towards him fully with a smile so sweet that it was too good to be true. “This might be unprofessional, but can I please get a cuddle?” You asked, voice dripping in syrupy sugar and pure fakeness.

He blinked repeatedly, caught off-guard at your audacity and how thick-faced you were. “No.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, whining softly at his denial. “Call it a comfort hug. It’ll make me feel better.”

He stared at you, his stony face not shifting once. “No.”

You pouted again, your bottom lip jutting out a little too much when he started the car. You waited until he drove out of the parking lot before shooting your shot again. “So you don’t want a hug,” you said. “Hold my hand while you drive, then—”

“No,” he reiterated without missing a beat.

But you weren’t giving up. “Okay. Maybe a pat on the head?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

You scoffed. “Why not?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said flatly in that maddeningly calm voice of his.

You paused for a beat before bursting out laughing. You weren’t hurt, not at all. You were just so used to people falling over themselves to give you what you wanted, that San’s absolute refusal was kind of hilarious. “Here I was thinking that you liked me and that we had something good going on,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I believe that there was a connection there.”

“And I believe that this is your hunger talking,” he muttered sarcastically. “Fear not, we’re almost at the bakery.”

You laughed again. “You’re funny, but I can’t believe you think that low of me,” you clicked your tongue. “Seriously, though. Have you ever thought of breaking protocol for someone you potentially liked?”

“No, but I’ve increased the distance when clients get too flirty,” he side-eyed you with full intent, unimpressed.

“What’s the difference? You’re distant in general,” you pointed out.

"Do I seem distant, or is it that you never earned my closeness?"

You whistled, impressed. You had to admit that that was very good on his end. “Ouch. You hurt my feelings,” you put your hands on your chest, groaning dramatically for effect. “However shall I recover from this brutal pain you’ve bestowed upon me?”

“I have a feeling that you’ll live to see another day, my lady,” he murmured in finality, side-eyeing you with intent once more. Jesus, you’ll be thinking about that for days to come.

God, he was infuriating. You didn’t say it out loud, but you loved the challenge. You had a feeling that it was only because this was San, and that was the problem. He was your favorite kind of problem. You weren’t good at problem-solving, not at all, but for the enigma that was your bodyguard, you might as well be.

You were shallow about it. You wanted to see that cool exterior crack just a little, to feel powerful again, for you to see that even someone as untouchable and unobtainable. It wasn’t about San. Not really. It was about you and what you thought you deserved. He just happened to look like the perfect prize.

Come hell or high water, I will get what I want. It was like nothing happened. The way he guided you towards the bakery as you entered and even when you were ordering could have made you crash and burn. He was just doing his job, but that was it, wasn’t it? San was literally just doing his job when you wanted something more.

“Do you want to eat anything?” You asked, placing your iced coffee and your beloved French macarons with toasted sugar on top of the table, sitting down as San pulled the chair for you like the true gentleman that he was. A little too gentlemanly, but eh, I’ll take it.

He was in the process of shaking his head anyway when you both heard his phone buzzing in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and immediately, his face changed. His jaw tensed, and a shadow passed over his features. “I need to take this,” he said. “Would it be alright if I stepped out for a minute?”

You blinked, a little surprised at the courtesy, but nodded anyway. “Yeah, go ahead.”

You took this as the time to further review the paperwork Yunho gave you, but you couldn’t fully concentrate; not when your eyes keep fleeting on the man you’ve set your sights on whose phone was on his ear, his face darkening every second that he spent the entire time he talked to whoever called him just now. For a split second, those dark, tantalizing eyes met with yours before he looked away.

Something was wrong, you could feel it, but it wasn't your business. The way his eyes would set ablaze and the way his jaw ticked told you everything you needed to know. It looked personal. Was it family related? Or perhaps a lover he was quarreling with? You swallowed a piece of the macaron a little too hard, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. San could have anyone he wanted, that wasn’t any of your concerns. A player has no business wanting details about their prize.

By the time San got back inside from his phone call, you were finished eating and drinking your coffee. You were half-tempted to ask him what it was all about, but you reconsidered it. It was better for you not to know things about San. The less you know, the better you’ll sleep at night. “I apologize for my temporary absence,” he said.

You waved your hand in front of you nonchalantly, gathering the folder to tuck it underneath your armpit. “We have to get going,” you said, standing up in the process. “I have to drop this thing off to—what was his name? Jongin? Ah, I think it’s Jongh—”

“Actually, I was thinking of going for a walk with you,” San said, cutting you off so casually that it made your brain stutter.

Pause. Did I hear that right? You blinked repeatedly, tempted to even stick your fingers in your ears just in case your ears were clogged up. “A walk?”

San nodded toward a narrow path that cut through a small, tree-lined park just off the road. “There’s still plenty of time to kill,” he said, calm, steady. “And you’ve been going on about stress in the car. I reckon it’s good for digestion to go for a small walk after a meal or a snack.”

You raised your brows, the suggestion catching you off guard. San never suggested doing things with you, let alone a small walk. But despite yourself, your heart rate started to pick up at the prospect of taking a side-to-side stroll with San and curiosity got the best of you. The company could wait, it wasn’t like it was going to close its doors on you if you were thirty minutes late.

It was the right decision after all. There weren’t a lot of times where peace came into your mind with the pressure building up from all the responsibilities your family refused to let you ignore, but the sweet scent of blooming flowers, the earthy aroma of the damp soil after a light drizzle, and the cool smoothness of the paved concrete was rather soothing.

And there was San walking side by side with you, your steps louder than his on the cracked stone as you traipsed aimlessly. You had no ending in mind, not with how distracting his face was as the sun hit the high points of his features. You ignored it, opting to focus on the  occasional birds darting overhead.

“So,” you glanced at him, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. “It’s a nice day for walking. Perfect for admitting that you’re also starting to like me a little.”

San didn’t respond. He just kept on walking leisurely, observing his surroundings a little more attentively, you’ve noticed, though that is to be suspected since that was quite literally his job. Still, you tried. It wasn’t everyday you get to do this with San and you were going to take full advantage of it.

“Hello,” you drawled, stretching out the word longer than usual to catch his attention. “A conversation literally goes both ways, you know that, right?”

Nothing. Just his hands behind his back, his back so stiff and straight as he kept walking forward. You huffed dramatically, stepping directly in front of him so you could turn and face him while walking backwards. Big mistake. You forgot how huge San was and his imposing figure was towering over you. It made you feel small, but again, you were nothing but persistent if you wanted something. The reward was always greater after because if there was no pain, then there would be no gain.

“Slow down, tiger,” you put your hands in front of him playfully. “You think of a topic we could talk about, then.”

He did not, in fact, slow down. He glanced at your hands once before gazing back in front of him, stepping aside so he could walk past you. You wanted to scoff at the sheer audacity. It was like he’d fully mastered the art of selective hearing just for you and it would have been hilarious if it was in another scenario.

You turned around, speed walking once again just to stop in front of him. You crossed your arms defiantly on your chest. “San.”

This time, he did stop, finally glancing at you with that familiar unreadable expression on his face. You pouted, giving him arguably the best puppy eyes you could muster at the moment. “I feel ignored,” you said. “Which is odd because you were the one who got us here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed calmly, the light breeze tousling his hair as if even nature respected his ability to shut you out.

You frowned, not expecting the response. Or the lack thereof. “The heck does that mean?”

San relaxes ever so slightly, the hands that were always planted so firmly against his back now placed in his trouser pockets. You fought the urge to swallow. Somehow, this relaxed form made him seem larger. “I am afraid you wouldn’t like the answer, my lady,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Oh? So you do admit that you are ignoring me?”

“Mayhaps,” he spoke with infuriating elegance.

“Why?” You shot back, trying hard to take back the control you thought you had when you started this by flirting with him unapologetically. “Are you afraid of falling for me?”

“I’m afraid you’ll keep talking,” he replied, looking you dead in the eye for a couple of seconds before resuming the walk, hands still in his pocket.

You followed suit, trying to ignore the casualness of it all as you refrained from smiling. You wanted a different conversation, maybe something more up your alley, but you’ll take this. You'll take anything you could get from San. You’ll have anything that could feel as thrilling and as invigorating as this. “You make it seem like I’m a terrible walking companion to be with,” you shook your head, trying to tone down the delight in your voice. I’d have you know that I can make good conversations last.” 

“Debatable,” San replied smoothly, not even missing a beat.

“Well, if you weren’t so busy actively ignoring me, then you’d know,” you clicked your tongue. “I mean, you did ask for this. I thought it was kind of romantic, but you’re over here ruining the good that we have.”

“Well, I did suggest a walk, not a talk,” he replied, infuriatingly polite, even though the undertone was the opposite.

And yet. Yet, he was still walking beside you. He was close enough where he could pull close to him. You knew damn well you weren’t going to complain. None of you said anything, and the silence was enough to make your heart skip a beat for no good reason. You shrugged, must be the breeze. It was nearing winter, after all.

You’ve barely taken your next step when somebody walked out from one of the trees. It was a man wearing a hoodie that was pulled over his head, walking in the same path as you. It was odd, but you didn’t think anything of it at first. You and San wouldn’t be the only people walking around this path.

What was odd, however, was the fact that this man was now actively running towards your direction head-on. You were getting mugged in broad daylight. It was too late for you to react. Everything happened so fast. By the time you realized what was going on, the mugger was already twisting your arm painfully behind your back. You didn’t even have the time to scream - not when his sights were locked on the folder tucked beneath your other arm. Immediately, he snatches the folder, paperwork scattering all over the place.

Your eyes widened, anger searing in your veins as the realisation hit you like a freight truck. This folder held the Kang Corporation’s future, and there was only one reason why this mugger was interested in it as you played a sick game of tug-of-war to get the folder back, not letting go even if it meant imminent danger on your end.

Seriously? Fucking hell, you cursed internally. Are the Songs really that pathetic that they’d send a hit job in broad daylight? 

Unfortunately for this bastard, you weren’t the type to back down, especially if it’s some piss poor attempt at an espionage job from a bastard who was probably paid shit to do the job. You were angry because you weren’t expecting the Songs to go this low. You positioned yourself, raising your fist ready to hit back, the intent burning in your chest—

San’s arm immediately came up, body sliding in front of yours like muscle memory. His hand found your wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough to snap you out of the stupidity you were about to do as he pushed you behind him.

“Stay behind me,” he said, voice low, controlled, but you could feel the shift in his posture, the stiffening of his back muscles reminding you of a raging panther whose hackles were raised in danger. He was shielding you.

You hadn’t even noticed your heart picking up until then. Ironically, his touch made you more nervous than the impending doom happening in front of you. You tried to step back, startled. You stayed put behind him, even you weren’t dumb enough to tease San at a time like this, your hand tightly clutching the folder that you were positive that it was wrinkled and torn to the point of no return. Hell, you’re surprised that the folder stayed intact and hasn't ripped off in half yet.

Just then, a distant memory suddenly popped in your head. It was an inconvenient one at that, it was that one time you were trying to tease San just to get a reaction out of him. It was a week after meeting him - a week of your ego getting bruised repeatedly because he kept ignoring your attempts at seducing him and trying to get to know him.

“Now, why would they hire you as my bodyguard?” You clicked your tongue repeatedly, feigning disappointment. “You look like you’d break in half if someone so much as kicked you.” 

That wasn’t true, not at all. San’s shoulders were so broad that if you stood behind him, no one would be able to see you. His bulging muscles always made any shirt he wore look so strained, like it could barely contain the man. “My blackbelt says otherwise,” he counteracted politely, voice firm with a confidence only a man like him could carry with ease and conviction.

But you never had the opportunity to see if his blackbelt skills were legitimate because the look on his face was more than enough. You didn’t know what to do - you had a scowl on your face, holding his shirt for dear life, while San was staring the man down. You huffed softly, you were at least expecting a roundhouse kick or something.

That was it, though. You looked at San and he did have that warning look in his eyes that screamed danger, but that was the thing - it wasn’t all different from the usual look he also gave you. He was literally just staring the other man down - he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even need to yell or raise his voice.

No glare. Just a calm, controlled stare where he was dead still without having the need to blink. And you just froze, the folder still clutched to your chest, waiting and expecting something to happen. But nothing, there was just silence on your bodyguard’s end as if that was enough.

And apparently, it was. The mugger - who you could tell was a young man if his chubby cheeks and the juvenile look in his eyes wasn’t enough to give it out - hesitated,  eyes narrowing like he was re-evaluating something only he saw. 

The mugger took one look at you, turned around, then jogged away. You scrunched your brows in confusion as you watched the man’s figure disappear among the trees. There were no traces of him being here except the papers strewn all over and the nervous beating of your heart.

You stood there, frozen in place for a moment longer than you should have, staring at the empty space where the mugger had been. It wasn’t that you were expecting a wild confrontation, but whatever that was was even weirder than anything else you were expecting.

“What…the hell was that?” You asked amidst the weird, calm tension in the air. There was no answer, so you proceeded to bend down and picked up the papers in haste, not caring if they were in order or not.

That seemed to break San out of his own trance. His hand was still on your wrist, and normally you would have already been gloating and teasing him for it, but not today. You had no choice but to collect the papers with one hand only, but it was fine. You definitely needed the hand on your wrist to anchor you.

"We need to go," he said curtly, voice was low, edged with something you didn’t quite recognize, but it had that sharp quality to it that made you hurry.

You were spooked, almost terrified even, your father’s voice ringing incessantly in your head as San briskly put your seatbelt on for you. He knew exactly what he was doing when he coerced you to pick a bodyguard. For the first time in a while, you were more than thankful that you were forced to do something you didn’t want to

However, you were more than thankful that out of all the applicants, you randomly picked out San’s. Somehow, even in the chaos, he was the presence that calmed you down. He was solid, unshakable, and you were grateful for it. But as you stared at him as he drove out of the cafe, something didn’t sit quite well with you.

You weren’t dumb. You may pretend to be to get what you want, but you were far from it. Something had happened back there and San’s silence was weighing in on you. The whole situation was just…off. Something felt wrong, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, you needed to know. “San?” You asked softly, not in the mood to be playful with him. “That guy…he just left. There’s something wrong, don’t you feel it?”

San’s eyes flicked to you for a moment, but it wasn’t the same sharp, controlled stare he usually gave when he was ready to put you in your place. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. His face remained unreadable, and out of all the times that it was, this was the time where you genuinely disliked not being able to read what he was thinking.

“I-It just doesn’t add up in my head,” you stuttered your words out before you knew it, intimidated by the dark look on San’s face. You knew better than to press too much, he wasn’t the type of guy to crack under pressure - you’ve proven this time and time.

You almost jumped when sighed sharply, and finally he spoke, voice low, steady, and borderline scathing. “The kid was frightened. Simple as that.”

You frowned, not liking how vague and unsettling his explanation was. “Are you even hearing yourself? Repeat that, but slowly. And then tell me if that makes sense in your own ears.”

His gaze flicked to you again, but this time, it was colder. “What do you want me to say? You saw it yourself. He saw me, a big guy, a man. Imposing. Kid can’t pick someone his own size.”

You crossed your arms, watching his profile as the car sped down the darkened street, your mind racing with what had just happened. That did make a lot of sense, whoever the hell the Songs hired was ready to pounce on you, but the moment that San stepped in, it was like all his bravado vanished into thin air.

“Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to. There are things better left unsaid for your safety,” he said, cold and detached, when he saw you wanted to ask more. “He left, you’re unharmed, and that’s all that matters. You stay put and let me do what I was hired for. Call your father.”

It was a mess. Your father picked up two rings in after you called him - especially given the fact that you were never one to call him since you preferred talking to him in person - and you had to tell him in one breath everything from Yunho dropping off some paperwork all the way when you were mugged and now safe because of your bodyguard.

Your father was, naturally, upset about the whole situation. It was how you found yourself leading San to your guest bedroom in your penthouse because the moment your father hung up the phone, San had gotten a text message on his phone that he was now to spend all waking hours with you for your safety and that includes being in the privacy of your own home just so he could watch you.

You wanted to protest, but in the back of your head, there was a small part of you that was truly spooked by the whole encounter, so the words died on your throat before you could even think of uttering them. But that wasn’t what was truly bothering you was San now staying with you.

It made you want to scream, but you stopped yourself as you opened the door for him, stepping aside so he could take the big duffle bag he had brought with him inside to settle in. “Make yourself comfortable,” you muttered, trying to hide how flustered you felt with your situation.

San didn’t say much. He never did. Just gave a quiet nod, taking in the room with that ever-neutral stare of his and that was your queue to close the door and walk back to your room in a doozy. This is fine. San, the bodyguard that I’ve been trying to annoy, now sleeping just a wall away from me. Yep. Totally fine.

You were upset. For months, you’ve been trying to win over San for your own ego to make him come to your house. But not like this. The last time San was here was when he introduced himself for the first time and ever since then he’s always found the opportunity to deny the chance to come back inside. Whether it was because he genuinely didn’t like you or because of some moral compass he had in his head, you didn’t know.

But more than that, this was your house, and you were free to be whoever you wanted to be in it, but now, San was going to see you. This sense of vulnerability he hadn’t earned, but somehow, will have anyway. You didn’t want to care about someone who was technically paid to protect you. You didn’t want to get attached. That wasn’t your style. The game would be over before you knew it and that was the last thing that you wanted to happen.

San would be here. In your mornings. Your nights. In your silence. Your quietest, weakest moments. The thought of it made you breathless. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust San, on the contrary, you trusted him more than you should, his presence was never the issue. It was yourself that you didn’t trust.

As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, you heard the shrill ringing of your phone. The problem was, you had left it in the living room. You gritted your teeth in annoyance. You could only hope that San was still settling him in the guest room. You’d grab your phone and come back. Of course, as luck would have it, that’s not what happened.

The second you cracked your door open, you nearly jumped out of your skin. San was standing right there, his face blank as ever. “Jesus, you scared me,” you gasped, clutching your chest. You forced out a breathless laugh, though it came out more nervous than amused.

He simply raised an eyebrow and held out your still-ringing phone. You didn’t even realize he was holding it. “You left this,” he muttered. You awkwardly took the phone from him without even making eye contact.

San stepped back, already turning toward the hallway. You cursed internally, opting to answer the call in the wide breadth of your living room just so you could have more space to think and walk around. Not even an hour and San was already making you nervous. “Hello?”

“Y/N? Oh, thank God. Are you okay? I heard what happened from your dad,” Yunho’s frantic, but relieved voice sounded from the phone. “I should’ve come with you, I swear I should’ve.”

You pursed your lips, Yunho’s warm, honey-like voice instantly making you feel better. “It’s not your fault, Yun,” you reassured him. “I’m fine, but more than that, the folder is safe. Unfortunately, I still have it with me.”

“You do? I thought I told you to give it to Jongho this morning for safekeeping?”

“I know,” you sighed, letting your body plop onto the couch, but stopped yourself last minute when you remembered that San was literally just a few metres away from you, inspecting the entire house. You didn’t want him to think you were a slob or something. “I didn’t have the opportunity to. It’s a good thing San was there when I got mugged.” “How?” He pressed on, puzzled. “Was he not with you?”

You scrunched your brows in perplexity. “How? I didn’t even reach the damn company,” you retorted back, annoyed that all Yunho thought was the folder. “Those Song bastards were worse than I thought. It’s a good thing San was there or else I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Fuck, you think it’s them? Cowards, they really targeted you when you were at your most vulnerable too,” he gritted his teeth. “Also, San? Who’s that?” 

An irritated vein popped up from your temples. You’ve had it with people bypassing San, especially since he was actually very good at protecting you and your assets, but you’ll forgive Yunho since he was busy all the time. You looked to your left, subconsciously trying to track San, only for your eyes to meet his.

Your heart skips a beat and you want to groan. Why did he have to look that good? You couldn’t peel your eyes away from the sharp features of his face, the planes of his muscles bulging out even from the shirt he was wearing. His jaw was set firm and had this quiet confidence that was both alluring and irritating as he stared right back at you.

“Who do you think?” You scoffed, trying your best to keep your voice leveled even though there was heat rising from your neck to your cheeks.

Yunho made a confused sound from the back of his throat. “But—”

“A-Anyway,” you cleared your throat, not letting him finish. You broke eye contact off with San immediately before you combusted on the spot. “I-I have to go. Ask my dad for more information. Bye.”

You quickly hung up, dumping your phone on the far end of the couch before you closed your eyes, draping your arm all over your eyes in hopes of easing the tension weighing on your mind. Everything that happened today was seemingly crashing down on you and you were stressed.

“My lady?”

Ah, yes. Just the thing you needed to get rid of your stress. Messing with San seemed to always do the trick. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to do more checking outside the premises. I could buy us takeout after. Don’t want to risk you going out or having somebody deliver just in case.”

You smirked, removing your arm from your face to take a good look at him. “Aww,” you cooed. “Look at you being all concerned about my well-being. And here I was, thinking that romance and chivalry had long disappeared from this desolate world we live in.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing when San’s left eye twitched. He crossed his arms over his chest, aggravation clouding his features. “Must you always be this difficult? I take it back. You can choose not to eat dinner.”

“I mean, you could,” you shrugged mischievously. “But aren’t you curious if starvation would make me more….what was it you said? Difficult?”

“Curious? No,” he deadpanned. “Concerned? Absolutely. Especially when it comes to my mental stability.”

You clicked your tongue. “This is why I’m very fond of you, San. Your ability to talk like you do always excites me.”

“I aim to impress, after all. Glad I entertain you,” he replied sarcastically, shaking his head in exasperation from your antics. “Chicken from the corner sound good to you?”

It was awkward, to say the least. It was quiet, a little too quiet. The only sound in the background was the wind swooshing from your air conditioner and the utensils clacking against one another as you both ate in silence. He raises his head to look at you. “Food not to your liking?”

You shook your head. “It’s good. But…must you be this stiff even when you’re eating? I swear my back is hurting just by looking at you,” you rolled your neck, cracking it to make a point. “Relax. Security is good downstairs. I don’t need you on high alert all the time, it’s unnecessary.”

“It’s not about what you need,” he replied, tone neutral. “It’s about keeping you safe.”

You hated how that almost shut you up because he wasn’t wrong. Almost. “Fine,” you conceded after swallowing your food. “At least talk to me, though. The silence and boredom is killing me.”

“I would highly implore you to finish your food,” he murmured, gently rejecting you once again like he always does.

“Geez, talk about being a mood killer,” you rolled your eyes. “Eating together is supposed to be a social thing, you know? Or is it only me that you hate for some reason?” “I’m all for equal opportunities. I hate everyone,” he replied, emotionless. His eyes flicked to yours, that unreadable gaze pinning you for a fraction too long. “You look exhausted. You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“Okay,” you muttered, pushing your chair back with effort. “You win. I’m going to bed.”

San only nodded, his expression unreadable again. “I’ll keep watch.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but being mugged definitely took a toll on you. The second your head hit the pillow, you were a goner. It was the longest, dreamless, most peaceful yet unsettling sleep of your life. You slept a little too long, however. You were still disoriented, your limbs still heavy, when your phone suddenly rang loudly like an alarm trying to signal something. This wasn’t the first call, you reckoned, and suddenly, the pit in your stomach deepened because you could feel that something was wrong.

And you were right. Yeosang’s frantic voice was telling you that the company stocks went down. The Songs had suddenly launched a new product overnight. Your brain wasn’t even catching up yet, that is, until Yeosang had hastily mentioned that he, himself, designed that product and it wasn’t supposed to be out for another couple of months.

“Are you saying,” you swallowed, your blood running cold. “That there was a leak?”

“Yes,” Yeosang sighed deeply, his voice tight with frustration. “Dad’s already doing damage control, but it’s bad, Y/N. Are you sure that the folder Yunho gave you was secure?”

“Positive. That bastard who mugged me didn’t take anything, I swear," you replied faster than you could’ve fully woken up. Your thoughts refused to keep up, but one thing was for certain - the Songs had begun moving and they won. All while you slept.

Needless to say, you were stuck in your penthouse as per your dad’s instructions. He wasn’t mad at you, not entirely, but he was still upset at the entire situation. The good news was that it wasn't a bad thing. You actually disliked going out. The bad news was that San was with you 24/7. You weren’t talking all the time and he actually just stayed in the guest room more than he didn’t, but his presence alone was distracting you.

San was beginning to get on your nerves. You couldn’t even normally flirt your way into his nerves.. You didn’t know exactly what bothered you. He respected your privacy and boundaries and that, alone, meant a lot to you because you valued your own time a lot.

If anything, he was infuriatingly disciplined. He didn’t touch anything that wasn’t his, never stepped out of line, and moved through your home with the quiet efficiency of someone who had long since learned how to disappear into the background.

And maybe that was the problem. He was too good at blending in. Too good at making you forget he was there until you remembered, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The worst part was that sometimes you’d catch him looking at you just a second too long, and then he’d look away. God, that made you want to scream.

“Morning,” he greeted without any emotion the moment you got out of your room, tipping his head a little in courtesy before he went back to what he was doing on his laptop in the living room.

Your heart almost stopped beating, your hands becoming clammy at the sight of him. “M-Morning,” you murmured, passing him to open the big curtains in your living room to let the light in.

It’s been weeks and sometimes, you forget that San would be there the moment you’d wake up. You weren’t used to sharing your space, not like this. Not with someone who made your heart stutter just by existing in the same room. 

“I made coffee,” he spoke, his voice irritatingly calming and soothing as much as you hated to admit it. “I made too much, though. I figured you wanted some, I already put creamer and sugar in it and it’s ready in the fridge for you, in case you want it.”

You wanted to sigh. Damn him, you thought. It was the little things, too. He knew that you weren’t the biggest fan of hot, black coffee and you preferred it with a dash of cream and sugar. “Sounds good,” you replied. 

You were about to walk towards the fridge when he put his hand up, signalling for you to pause. “I’ll get it,” he said, already getting up from the chair to walk towards the fridge. You blinked repeatedly, your face going numb, not even noticing for a minute that he’d already stopped in front of you to hand you the coffee. “Here, take it.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, lifting your hands to take the glass. “T-Thanks.”

The moment you tried to wrap your hand around the glass, your hand accidentally brushes with his. This time, however, you were the one who flinched and pulled away. You gasped, pulling your hand to your chest as San stared at you, a frown decorating his handsome face. The tension was so unbearable that it had you dashing towards your room as fast as you could.

It was so awkward. You were so awkward. San was fine, he was acting like he always did around you and still wouldn’t look twice in your way unless you directly asked him a question or when he was asking you certain questions with regards to safety and all. Overall, you were the problem. You didn’t know how to move around him and it made you feel unsettled. San didn’t act like your house was his, but he didn’t act like a complete stranger either. He didn’t completely disregard you and was aware that you were living together, but he didn’t acknowledge this arrangement as more than a job at the same time. It was complicated and you had no idea what to make of it. The next encounter you had with him after stewing in your room for days was by sheer accident. It was midnight and all you wanted was something sweet for a snack. You were in the process of opening your fridge when something caught your eye - a movement in your balcony and you froze. His back was turned to you but you knew it was San.

He wore nothing but a tank top and some sweatpants, but the way his top clung to his skin because of sweat was almost sinful. He was working out, but it wasn’t just any workout. You knew Taekwondo when you saw someone practicing it. For a moment, you forgot what you were in the kitchen for. You’ve never seen San this focused; this human.

The way he flew in the air as if he truly belonged there, the powerful strides of his kicks, he was just different here. He was completely in his element. The intensity of his face in the midst of his focus made your stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to admiration.

You wanted to look away because you felt like you had just stumbled into something private, something you weren’t meant to see, and you were actually about to, but before you could lift your foot to turn around, San had already slowed his movements to turn his head and upper body to look at you.

San didn’t even flinch, he just stared at you with those cold, unbothered eyes with his brow slightly raised, an indication that he was just as surprised to see you watching him. “You’re still awake,” he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

“So are you,” you murmured after clearing your throat awkwardly, breaking eye contact and refusing to look at anything in his general direction. 

He stood straight, crossing his arms. “Is there anything you need?” San asked, calm and measured yet clipped and stoic. 

You blinked, suddenly thrown off. He wasn’t even rude or impatient, this was just him in general. “No,” you answered quickly, taking a tentative step back in preparation for your escape. “I-I’m fine. Carry on with your thing.”

Without waiting for him to reply, you scurried off, the hunger suddenly dissipating from your stomach in replacement with something else. You flopped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow to let out a strangled groan, hoping the pillow would swallow San’s muscled back away from your memory. 

By the end of that week, you couldn’t take it anymore. This wasn’t you at all, and you were at your end’s wits and you were sick and tired of being awkward in your own house. You need to take charge of this entire situation before the situation swallows you whole. You had to do something, anything.

You didn’t care anymore about the awkward tension or the weirdness between you. You stormed down the hallway, the resolve in your step. You knew that San would be in the living room doing God-knows-what, and you were right. You hesitated only for a second as you reached the doorway. His back was to you, and he looked to be writing something in a journal, you figured. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him do it, but you certainly weren’t going to mess with it since that was his privacy, just like he hasn’t messed with yours.

You walked in without hesitation, a strut and some renewed energy in your steps as sat on the other couch that was directly across where he was sitting. You smirked, feeling that familiar rush of power come back to you, that electric jolt of confidence that came when you were in control.

He stopped mid-writing, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. For the first time in weeks, there was something in his eyes, but it wasn’t the usual unreadable mask. It was curiosity. Pure, unadulterated curiosity.  Maybe even a flicker of something else.

You flashed him your signature grin, that one that always indicated that you brought nothing but trouble. He sighed loudly, removing his glasses - you didn’t even notice he was wearing one and your heart skipped one beat - and set them aside the table. “Yes, my lady?” San asked, already exasperated like he’d rather be somewhere else than entertain you.

“Nothing,” you answered, your eyes widened innocently. “I was just wondering how you’re settling, that’s all. You know…if you’ve perhaps forgotten that I’m here if you need help,” you bit your lips, giving him your best bedroom eyes. “I’ve been told I’m good help.”

His eyes flicker briefly, a twitch of frustration passing through them before he spoke again, his tone calm but now clearly edged with something else. "Oh, I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said. “Quite unfortunate. I almost succeeded, too, given you’ve been withdrawn lately."

You shrugged, but your smile only grew wider, more mischievous. How the hell have you lived without this for weeks? You almost forgot how fun it was to get under San’s skin. “Just say you missed me. Could’ve just knocked on my door, I don’t even lock it,” you chuckled.

San didn’t flinch this time. He stared at you for a moment before closing his notebook, crossing his arms and giving you his undivided attention. “I should’ve known,” he rolled his eyes. “I was wondering where that annoying flirt in you went. Turns out she was just recharging.”

You genuinely laughed. This was the most San has said to you in one conversation without him trying to shut the whole thing down and he sounded absolutely normal. Who knew you’d come to love normal when you’ve spent your whole life looking for something of the opposite? And somehow, you liked that even more than the thrill of getting under his skin. You knew whatever you were doing was working. He was trying not to show it, but you could feel the tension in the air shift away.

“Are you always like this?” San asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tilted your head in curiosity. He’s never asked you specific questions like this either. “Like what?”

“Like a hormonal teenager who flirts and treats everything like it’s a game.”

You stared at him, making a point not to blink on purpose. Oh, Choi San. If you only knew how spot on you were. You shrugged it away, your grin growing wider. “So straighten me up. If it’s such a problem, then how would you punish me?”

"By making you touch grass," San replied, not missing a beat, his voice holding just a hint of irritation. 

You laughed again, your amusement through the roof. “You’re hilarious,” you cleared your throat to shake your giggles out. “Why, though? Is that how you really think of me? Be honest.”

San stared at you, his gaze unshakable as he studied youThe way he looked at you made you nervous, like he was going to eat you alive where you sat. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. “You want honesty? You’re immature, Y/N.”

That was the first time he ever, ever called you by your first name, but you never imagined it would have been like this. “I’m not some convoluted project you could test just to see if everyone really does bend down to your will,” he continued, not giving you space to breathe. “But I’m just the tip of the iceberg, aren’t I? You act like this so your father expects nothing from you in the inheritance. It’s deliberate avoidance because you’re not ready for the real world.”

His words stung more than you expected, but you refused to let him see that. You could almost feel the walls you’ve built upon yourself crack slightly. “I see,” you hummed, your hands tensing in front of you a bit. “Is that it, San?” “You’re a lot smarter than you let on,” he pointed out, almost bored. “That’s the frustrating part. It’s impressive, though. It takes a lot of cunningness to make yourself look like you don’t know anything. The problem? You’re transparent. To me, at least.”

Something in your chest bloomed. It began spreading all throughout your body deep down your bones, and it was there to stay. You smiled, a little more genuine than you’re used to. “Is this what affection feels like coming from you?”

He rolled his eyes, his expression ironically relaxing even more. “Don’t push it. You’re still a walking chaos and a magnet for trouble. You make my job harder than it needs to be.”

“Ah, but here’s the thing, though,” you leaned forward, your voice dropping into something more soft, but still playful. “If I stop being the walking chaos you say I am, would that really make your job easier? Or would it just stop being less fun? ”

San pauses, freezes even. His eyes widen ever so slightly before he schools his expression back to the stony, impassive demeanor. For the first time, he was the one who was caught off guard. But, now there was interest burning behind those dark eyes. “That depends,” he finally said. “Are you going to act worse now that I’ve called you out for it?”

Ouch. Your eye twitched. San was blunt and he clearly wasn’t taking any of your bullshit. Thing is, you weren’t taking his, either. “Shame,” you shrugged teasingly. “Because I was thinking of doing something…fun.”

He exhaled sharply, his displeasure simmering and evident. “I’m your bodyguard, not your playmate. I don’t have time for games when I’m busy being on the lookout for your safety.”

You leaned in just enough to brush your hand across his arm, watching his muscles tense at the contact. You could practically see the battle raging behind his eyes as he lightly shrugged you off. "Not that type of fun, you silly goose," you giggled, shaking your head. "Though that could be arranged, too. I was thinking maybe we could get to know each other? I mean if we’re going to live together for a while, we might as well, you know?"

That part was true on your end. At the end of the day, it was tiring to walk on eggshells around him. Besides, he did save you from getting mugged, and for that, you had no problem giving credit where it was due. “And how do you propose that?” San asked, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out if you were messing with him or not.

“The ball’s in your court, really. We could do this however you want,” you offered with a small shrug. “We could just talk or ask questions about anything. Interests, favourites, dark secrets, and whatnot.”

His jaw ticked. “I don’t have any secrets,” he said flatly.

“Liar. Everyone has secrets,” you retorted.

That might have been a mistake. His gaze sharpened and it got even colder, if that was possible. You felt chills; it was as if he was seeing through you instead of looking at you. There was a flicker of something that was a little too practiced and dangerous. It only lasted for a second but your breath still caught. 

Just as you were about to say that it was alright and he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, San let out another sigh as he visibly loosened up and settled back on the couch. “Five questions,” he grumbled. “No more, no less. Make it count.”

You pouted, cutely you could say. “Five? That’s it?”

“Yes. Four questions.”

You blinked repeatedly, gawking at him. Well played, Choi San, you thought giddily. And by the way his eyes twinkled slightly, you could tell he was thinking the same thing. Your lips curled into a satisfied smile, nonetheless, and you were careful not to let it look too triumphant. San offering anything willingly to you was rarer than a blue moon.

“Okay,” you cleared your throat dramatically, building momentum. “Why are boxing rings called that when they’re square but the fights are called rounds, instead?”

You wanted to burst out laughing at what seemed like five stages of grief and emotion on San’s face at your question. “Really?” He asked dryly, lips pressed into the flattest and most unimpressed line you’ve seen yet. “You had four questions and you wasted it on idiocy?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question,” you wiggled your brows. “It’s a perfectly legitimate one. We could make this as a practice round if you want.”

“Three,” he deadpanned, eyes ticking and staring you down so hard you were surprised you haven’t combusted on the spot yet.

“Alright, geez, lighten up,” you chuckled. “What’s a food everyone seems to like but you can’t seem to get into.”

“Easy,” he didn’t hesitate to answer this time. “Coconuts.”

“Oh,” you let out. “Usually I’d make fun of it, but I’ll let it pass this time because I don’t like coconuts either. What’s your reason, though?”

He hummed, seemingly pleased that you were finally having a somewhat decent conversation. “They’re a little too bland for my liking,” he supplied.

“Next,” you said, sitting a little straighter out of pure excitement at how this was going. “You know Leonardo DiCaprio?” He frowned at you as if mocking you for even asking that. “Okay, do you prefer Titanic or Wolf Of Wall Street?”

His brows both shot up, the intrigue evident, with a hint of surprise that you actually asked a really good question. He pauses, his expression hardening as he actually thought of the answer he’d like to give you. “To be honest, neither,” he began. “I do prefer Wolf Of Wall Street.”

“I’m actually surprised you watch movies to begin with,” you snorted. “But I agree, I’d choose neither, too. Those were just the popular ones. Out of curiosity, which of his movies is your pick in general?”

“Django Unchained,” he answered with more ease. “Yours?”

“Inception.”

He gave a thoughtful hum, looking at you with something different like quiet approval. You tried not to smile. San was answering your questions and that might not seem like anything, but to you, this was the most progress you’ve gotten in months. “I have a good one,” you said after a while. “What’s the weirdest undercover name you’ve used before you worked for me?”

That one caught him. Only slightly, but still, San was someone who was always on guard so this was a feat. A beat of hesitation passed before he finally replied, voice low. “Santiago.”

You stared. “You’re joking. You’ve got to be.”

“I never joke,” he said flatly.

There was a beat of silence for only a second before you burst out laughing. You laughed out so loud and so hard that uncontrollable tears started to pour from your eyes as you lay sideways on the couch, clutching your stomach, all while San crossed his arms defensively, frowning. “I’m glad it entertains you, my lady,” he said dryly. “That name gave my identity out back then.”

You burst out laughing again. “I bet. They didn’t even try, it’s hilarious,” you shook your head, wiping your tears with your palms. “That was a good one, thanks for the laughs, Santiago.”

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled out, unenthusiastic.

“Last question,” you carefully laid out, not sure how to ask the question you’ve been purposefully saving for last. “Do you ever regret working for me?”

His feline eyes held yours, not blinking once, as if the answers were in your eyes and he just needed to search for it thoroughly. For once, you wished you knew what San was thinking. His face was neutral, but it wasn’t entirely dismissive. He was genuinely deciding what to tell you. He ran a hand through his hair, finally settling for a response that satisfied himself. “Regret is a very specific word.”

You stayed silent. You waited and waited, but nothing. His eyes never left yours, but you knew he wasn’t going to elaborate further. You broke eye contact. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but the fact that he didn’t say yes? You’d take it. You loved a good mystery, after all.

You settled deeper on the couch, leaning your back against it, mirroring San’s exact position where he sat. Five questions, over just like that. It was the end, that was it, the agreement was over and there was nothing left to be said. No more questions to be asked. But somehow, neither of you got up from the couch and went to your respective rooms. In that moment, the silence between you wasn’t tense or awkward with all the things unsaid. It just was comfortable. There was a lot to unpack, after all.

“Why did you ask that?”

You turned your head slowly to look at him, confusion all over your face, not expecting him to speak up after. “What?”

His face was still impassive, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, but his eyes were…different. Dare you say it was a little softer than you were used to. “The last question,” he murmured. “Why do you want to know?”

You tilted your head, a smug smile spreading through your lips. “If you want to ask me questions too, I can play that game for you.”

He stared at you a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose, the closest thing you were probably going to get to San being a little more carefree. “Why do I even bother with you,” he muttered. “You’re a menace.”

So you stayed, answering his question in a way that would curb his curiosity without giving your intentions away. San stayed as well, prompting you to ask more questions off-handedly about the most random things. It ranged from places he’s been to the dumbest client he’s ever had - which thankfully was not you - and he answered them directly with grace.

You saw the tiniest crack in San’s icy facade, but you were not going to point it out. You didn’t even notice, too busy answering some of the questions he’d thrown at you randomly. “Ever been to a country you’d never go back to?” He asked lightheartedly in San fashion - emotionless but not necessarily empty.

You paused, thinking about it. “No,” you replied. “There are some that I’d rather go with people than alone, though.” The questions kept coming in one by one, each of them answered by either of you and those answers would stem another set of questions. It was a cycle, but it was one you didn’t mind getting stuck in. Your voices grew softer with serious questions, but grew louder in ridiculous ones.

“Admit it, you’ll miss me when I’m not around,” you replied in a sing-songy tone.

“Like a migraine. Brief relief before the next one hits,” he rolled his eyes.

Maybe it wasn’t about breaking him, maybe it was about trying to meet him halfway to see what would be the best course of action to get through San. You weren’t flirting anymore, you weren’t even teasing. You were just talking. 

And San’s eyes were on you the entire time, cool and assessing, not in a way that made you feel judged, but in a way that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t explain. The more you talked, the more San’s posture had completely relaxed - as relaxed as he could be - and he was starting to sound like he actually wanted to speak with you unlike in the beginning. Nobody was counting anymore and soon enough as five questions turned into thirty, the sun had long set and nighttime had come at last. There was nothing to it and the best way you could describe the atmosphere that had befallen the both of you was comfortable.

Thirty more questions and you were still there, but so was San. Both of you were sitting across each other still listening, talking, laughing, and watching. For the first time, San didn’t seem like your bodyguard - he just looked like San.

“Do I have to?” You sighed, clutching your phone. “You couldn’t have told me earlier? Can’t Yunho or even Seonghwa do it?”

Yeosang had just visited, so his call came as a surprise. “Sorry, Dad called,” he apologised. “Seonghwa’s a conflict of interest so Yunho will help set you up to work from home.”

You gritted your teeth. “Yeo, I’m only doing this out of obligation. I got mugged, remember?”

“I know, I tried,” he sighed. “Just go online then talk to Jongho. Dad wants to speak to him.”

“Then he should call him.”

“That’s—” Yeosang paused. “Shit, Dad’s calling again. Just get Jongho, I’ll handle the rest.”

You tossed your phone on the bed, exhausted. You didn’t blame Yeosang, he always did what he could, but your father was determined to push you into the CEO role. What’s more was that you were stuck in your penthouse. Frustrated, you went to find San again before Yeosang had called you. “San—”

“For the last time, I said no.”

He didn’t even look up from writing in his journal, his pen still moving in agile precision against the rough grain of the paper, his thoughts that he wouldn’t say out loud written in clear ink. You pouted, crossing your arms in defiance. “At least think about it,” you groaned. “Please?”

It had been days since that night.. Something had changed, you could feel it even though San still kept his distance and his walls were still high. “So watch a movie with me like I’ve been asking you to do this morning,” you said. “If you don’t want to take me to a restaurant, at least do something with me. Aren’t you bored as well? ”

He closed his journal, setting the pen and his glasses aside, before crossing his arms to look at you flatly. “Why do you want to go out badly? What phone call did you get?”

“Yeosang was here earlier when you went out and Dad wants me to work online this time. I don’t want to do anything, let alone find that Jongho guy again like that last time,” you grumbled, opting to tell him the truth. 

You’d rather do anything else than work for your dad, but you were also getting sick of being home too much. You expected San to offer one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, he went deathly still. He didn’t answer, just stared past you, like he was thinking hard about something, and for a moment, he looked dangerous, like his calm facade was cracking. You shrugged, concerned. “Fine,” you drawled, a bit nervous at how intense he looked. “I’m also sick of the food my dad has been sending us. I’ll do it, myself.”

This seemed to snap San out of his thoughts. His mouth dropped into a deep set frown, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he schools it back to his normal, neutral expression. “I do not like the sound of that,” he said slowly. “What are you trying to say?”

“Homemade food,” you shrugged, flashing him a mischievous smile. “I was thinking of cooking something for the both of us for lunch since I can’t go out anyway. And I don’t want to work, so it’s a win-win.”

“I have a better idea,” he said, deadpanned as usual. “We could skip lunch and go straight to calling an ambulance.”

You scoffed loudly, slightly offended at what he was trying to insinuate. “I was planning on doing a lunch special, you know? You might actually like it, so don’t knock it until you try it.”

“What’s the special?” San blurted out, not missing a beat. “Surprise food poisoning?”

You gave him an incredulous look, gawking at his audacity. You were about to say something when San stood up, leaning close to you with an unamused expression. “Do what you want,” he shrugged.

Your face brightened instantly and San could see it, his own eyes softening ever so slightly at the smile on your face. But there you were in your fully-stocked kitchen - courtesy of Yeosang - a couple of moments after those words left your mouth, a cold rush of panic rushing through you. You’ve never cooked a single thing in your entire life before, but you thought it wasn’t going to be difficult. At least, the videos made them seem so easy, but now that you actually had to do something, you were a lost cause. You decided on rice and stew. It was basically soup anyway, and all you had to do was throw in ingredients that made sense, what could go wrong? And the rice, you weren’t a total fool and you at least knew that you had to rinse it and cook it with water. Simple, right?

But as you stirred the bubbling mess in the pot, trying to ignore the fact that it looked more like an experiment gone terribly wrong, your doubts were starting to triple. When you were finished, you grabbed a spoon and gingerly tasted the stew, only to grimace and put the spoon back down slowly. It wasn’t bad, but it was…questionable. 

And San, for the first time, you genuinely did feel bad for him. To his credit, even though his lips were pulled into an unsatisfied frown, he still tried and tasted it, his face scrunching up. “It’s, uhm,” he cleared his throat, more so because his throat was probably burning. “Something.”

You bit your lips, closing your eyes in embarrassment as you watched San contemplate if he should even eat anything. At least he didn’t laugh or mock you, which you did greatly appreciate. “I,  uh, this was a mistake,” you started to take the plates away in shame. “I guess in the end, I have to work anyway. I’ll order food for us in the meantime.”

Your face burned in embarrassment as you put the plates in the sink. You dreaded work, but you’d do anything to get rid of this shame, even finally finding and talking to that Jongho guy your father has been looking for.

“Wait.”

Your heart stopped. Slowly, you turned around, only to see San cocking his head in the direction of where he was going - the kitchen. “You can work later,” he said. ”Follow me.” 

You raised a brow, but followed him to the kitchen, anyway. San was already grabbing another pot from the cabinets along with the bag of rice you had just used to make him what you also assumed was a horrible batch of rice. “Here,” he said, calm and firm, handing you a pot and a small cup the size of your palm. “You’re going to need them.”

You frowned, glancing at the pot and cup on your hands. “F-For what?”

“I’m going to teach you how to make rice properly,” he murmured. He pointed at the items in your hand. “Scoop two cups of the rice in the pot. Make sure the cup isn’t overflowing.”

You blinked, not sure if you heard him correctly. San didn’t speak, but you could feel his eyes on you, steady and sharp as he waited for you to do something. Your skin began to prickle, the intimacy and closeness you two had as you both stood in front of your sink suddenly dawning on you. Still, you did as told, carefully scooping two cups just like he said. 

“Good. Now we rinse,” he commanded in a low tone, turning the faucet on, rolling his sleeves up his arms. You tried not to stare. “Repeat what I do,” he continued, dipping a hand in the rice and giving it a good mix. “You need to wash it like this thoroughly, yeah? Let me see you do it.”

He wasn’t asking you, he was telling you. You could feel the way San’s eyes were locked onto your every move. There was a skip in your heartbeat when he grunted in approval, grabbing the pot from you to drain the water and put clean water, telling you under his breath that he’ll teach you that one next time.

Next time. There will be a next time and your traitorous brain starts to light up with the thought. He stood up straight, looking at you briefly. His gaze was firm, but there was a softness there too. "You’ll wait for it to boil, then lower the heat. You’ll know it when you see it. And don’t open the lid, let the steam cook it."

The quiet, patient way San explained made it feel less embarrassing. You found yourself paying attention. “H-How am I doing, though?” You asked in shame, refusing to look him in the eye, as you waited for the rice to boil.

You weren’t expecting an answer from him, even though in the back of your head you were already trying to live up to that silent expectation, but he proved you wrong. “Fine,” he answered bluntly and directly, but it was more than enough for you.

That night, you were both back in the living room, but this time, sitting on the same couch as a random movie played in the background, bowls of perfectly cooked rice, topped with fried eggs San also taught you how to make, clutched in your hands. “This is good,” you murmured, breaking the silence with a sincere compliment. “I could get used to this. It’s really nice.”

There was a pause when San looked at you briefly and you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch in amusement before he went back to watching the movie. “Don’t,” he grumbled. “I’m not your babysitter.”

You ignored him, still focused on his lips. The way it almost curved upwards was so subtle, but it was enough to make your heart skip another beat as San went back to eating. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d ever seen from him, and it felt like a small victory.

For the next three days or so, you cooked more rice and each day, San’s expression became softer the entire time you screamed in glee as if you had just invented something great. You had started looking forward to his reactions and his approval and that made you happier than making the rice successfully.

Not long after, you would be needing San’s assistance once more. You wanted to shower before you did. You couldn’t, though, because the lights kept flickering on and off. You had no choice but to knock tentatively on San’s door, not realising you were only wrapped in a towel.

He raised a sharp brow at your intrusion, body language on guard just in case you were just knocking to bother him. “I need to use your shower,” you explained, not looking him in the eye. “There’s something wrong with my lights. I-I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Without a word, he slipped past you and walked towards your room to check out said bathroom, his movement smooth and precise as you tailed behind him. You stood behind him awkwardly because you could already see the lights flickering before he even got near the bathroom. He glanced up and the faintest hint of a sigh escaped him. "I’ll handle it," he said, already stepping on the chair he just grabbed to inspect the broken lightbulb. “Open the sink cabinet here. There should be a spare lightbulb.”

You crouched down, tugging your towel tighter as you reached inside. The cabinet was surprisingly stocked. “You know how to do this too?” You asked, handing him the bulb.

“I do, but I’m not gonna be the one doing it,” he said flatly, taking a small step back to make space on the chair. “You will. Get up here, I’ll walk you through it step by step. Just be careful.”

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of how little you were wearing. Still, you climbed onto the chair beside him, careful not to brush against him. Your bare thigh grazed his pants and his eyes dropped before he looked away, jaw tightening. The air between you thickened, heavy with unspoken tension. “I like how you trust me not to burn the house down,” you said, trying to keep your voice light.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, motioning to the broken lightbulb above you. “Grab the bulb and twist it until it gives out. Don’t rush.”

You did as told, taking note of how calm and reassuring his voice was, though a little tight. He hums and nods when you show him the lightbulb you took out. “Good. Now put the new one in, but be careful, try to grab it from here…”

You momentarily stop breathing when he grabs your trembling hand, carefully placing it on the base of the bulb. “Screw it in nice and slow,” he said softly, voice a little too close to your ear. You swallowed hard, doing as told as his dark eyes stared at you with intent.

Once the bulb was in, he stepped down and, without warning, his hands found your waist. He lifted you off the chair with ease, his grip gentle, grounding. His hands lingered longer on your waist than they needed to. Then he cleared his throat, stepped back, and flipped the switch. “Not bad,” he murmured. “Now you know how to do it next time.”

“Y-Yeah,” you chuckled, a twinge of heat flickered on your cheeks, wringing your hands nervously as you tried to brush off that tingling sensation spreading through your chest. “I, uh, I’ll go take that shower now, I guess.”

He turned to go, then paused. His gaze dropped again. He stared for a beat too long, his eyes on your thighs for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “Yeah, you do that.”

You turned away, barely able to breathe, pretending not to notice how he refused to meet your eyes or the flush creeping up his neck and ears as he walked out.

It was the little things. At least, that’s where it all started. San had started teaching you more - how to cook more meals, unclog a stubborn drain, even how to organize your finances and budget your money - and each time, it chipped away at the distance that had once clearly defined your roles.

San was still the same man who barely said a word, barely looked at you, was stone-cold and impassive, but you listened to every instruction he gave you. You were a fast learner, not because you were trying to impress him, but because you were genuinely thankful for all the knowledge he imparted on you.

“We must learn how to be self-reliant, my lady,” San would say quietly one time he was teaching you to change your car tire. “Especially you. It’s hard to trust people who won’t use you. It’s hard for people to stay. Wrench on the nut, criss-cross to the right as tight as you can.”

“But you will,” you would answer, struggling a bit to tighten the bolts. “Right, San?”

The moments became less about fixing things and more about the quiet space between them -  his steady presence, your growing curiosity, the way you’d lean in to listen without realizing, or how he’d glance your way with a flicker of amusement that was never quite mocking.

You were two people learning how to live in the same space, and the whole situation felt strange, but it always felt important somehow. It wasn’t just about him teaching you all the things he knew, you realized. It was about him giving you his time and his patience.

However, you also noticed that he started pulling back. After that lightbulb incident, he stopped looking you in the eye completely and whenever he would accidentally graze your skin, he would pull away as if he had just touched something extremely hot and got burned. “San,” you called softly. “I know you’re pulling away. You don’t have to protect yourself.” He stared at you, darkness fully embracing his eyes. “I’m not protecting me,” he said darkly, staring as if he could see through you. “I’m protecting you.”

“Where’s your bodyguard? He’s never here when I come or something,” Yeosang murmured absentmindedly, crossing his legs comfortably as he settled on your couch. “You shouldn’t even be alone, what’s the point of Wooyoung stationing him with you 24/7?”

Today was one of those days that Yeosang decided to drop by out of the blue. You were happy, though. Being home with San were some of the best times you’ve ever had. “Leave him be, Yeo. He’s his own person, too,” you sighed. “It’s not like I’m in constant need of protection all the damn time. Tell Wooyoung to give him a raise. Woo’s the Head, he could make it happen.”

Lately, San had been going out a lot. Sometimes, he would leave notes on the table on what time he’d be back because he’d be gone by the time you woke up. He’d be gone for the whole day, and sometimes, he wouldn’t even say anything at all. 

“Still,” your brother shrugged. “It would be nice to chat with him again. I haven’t seen him ever since Dad made me brief him. He was very pleasant to talk to, very knowledgeable and very chatty. I wouldn’t mind dropping by once in a while to see you and talk with him.”

You raised both of your brows in mild surprise? San? The knowledgeable part, you didn’t doubt, but pleasant and chatty? Impossible. “That can’t be,” you chuckled. “You sure we’re talking about the same person here? My bodyguard?”

“He’s a professional, Y/N. You can’t expect him to be cozy with you,” he scoffed, louder again when you avoided eye contact. “My God, you’re trying to charm him? Whatever. Anyway, I have to talk to you…it’s about our stocks again.” And that’s how you found out that your stocks had lowered again because somehow, the Songs had revised their investment plans for the year. “I don’t understand,” you gritted your teeth, rubbing your temples in frustration. “We just revised ours too, Yunho’s draft was foolproof. How are they doing this?”

The market was tanking and some investors were already thinking of pulling out. You were thankful because Seonghwa was helping out and his sway was immense because the Parks were very influential. “Someone has to be leaking information from our side. A spy. Or their new bastard Song Mingi is just that good. Listen, Y/N,” Yeosang sighed stressfully. “I-I know you don’t want anything to do with the company, but you’re damn good at what you do. We need you.”

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. You weren’t going to tell him that San was a lovely distraction. The time you had spent with San has been the most worthwhile thing you’ve done in all your life, and a selfish part of you didn’t want even your brother to know. You wanted to keep whatever memory San was giving you to yourself.

“Yunho told me you haven’t even started working with him online,” he continued. “There’s not much to do, I promise you. Once it’s set, you can instruct Jongho to do whatever. Dad still wants to talk to him, by the way.”

You exhaled sharply, mentally cursing. You had totally forgotten about this Jongho guy. “Alright. I’ll talk to San when he comes back.”

“You really have a weird kink going on with your bodyguard,” Yeosang’s lips pulled into a deep frown as he stood up and walked to your door to leave. “Anyway, I have to go. Call me often, please. I’m still worried about you and Seonghwa has been hounding me to visit you too.”

You were still left sitting on your couch after Yeosang left, spacing out as vivid thoughts of what he was insinuating went through your mind. A wild blush stains your cheeks, heat seeping from your pores at the notion of what kinky might entail. With San, nonetheless.

“Are you sick?”

You were still tangled in your thoughts, startled to see San standing by the door, his arms crossed, eyes scanning your reddening face and neck with a precision only known to a man of his profession. “You’re red as a tomato,” he said flatly. “Feeling unwell, my lady?”

A small smile plays on your face. You haven’t messed with him in a while and you were starting to miss your favourite game. “O-Oh, I think I am,” you sighed dramatically, coughing for effect, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. “I do feel a little dizzy…”

You upped your theatrics, laying down on the couch and exhaled exaggerated breaths. “Won’t you come and give me some tender loving care, San? I heard it works better than meds.”

He scoffed, that signature deadpan expression making your heart flutter. “Right,” he said blankly, unimpressed and annoyed. “What really happened?”

You pouted, rolling your eyes. “Yeosang came by. Told me I have to work to find this Jongho guy again,” you whined. “I don’t want to work, but I guess I have to.”

San raised a brow, his entire body tensing. His jaw tensed to a point that your brows twitched in interest. You thought it was certainly an odd reaction. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmured, voice on edge, avoiding eye contact.

“Ah, but I have to,” you breathed out wistfully, frowning immediately afterwards. “What’s up with you? You’ve been acting so strange lately. You sure you’re not sick?” 

His eyes flicked back to you, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. “Nothing. Just wondering why your dad wants you to work online so much.”

You shrugged. “Probably because last time was a mess. I mean I didn’t even get the chance to meet this Jongho who seems to be a director or something seeing as my Dad always looks for him. And I still don’t know what he even looks like. Point is, I have to work today.”

“Right,” he said, voice unreadable. Suddenly, he was walking towards the kitchen counter where your car keys were laid and he reached for them. “Well, too bad.”

Your interest peaked and just like that, you jolted up from the couch, not even bothering to continue with the sick act. “What are you doing?”

He dangled them in front of you like bait. “I’m going to teach you how to drive properly,” he murmured, walking back towards the door before tilting his head slightly. “Come on. You need a distraction.”

“Why?” You asked, teasing him just so you could ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “It’s like you’re always distracting me when I have to work. Does my stone-cold bodyguard feel bad for me, after all?”

He scoffed, but for a second, something flickered in his gaze, something almost regretful. “Maybe,” was all he said before he walked out. 

The silence that followed felt heavier than usual, like the room itself was waiting for you to make a decision. You knew you had to work, but your heart was pulling in a different direction. You were moving before you knew it, grabbing your jacket and slipping on your shoes, ignoring the unwanted responsibilities your family had put on your shoulders.

“I thought you had work,” he said when he saw you approach him just as he was about to enter the car, his expression softening like he wasn’t expecting you to come.

“I do,” you replied with a smile.. “But I’m going with you.”

I’d rather be with you. He didn’t argue. Just opened the door and let you through, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than usual, and just like that, you were driving off, San’s quiet instructions filling the air. “Brake,” he said calmly. And you did, except you did it too hard. “A little slower,” he gritted, a vein popping from his temple. “Less talking, more driving, please. Don’t kill us.”

“Does my voice make your heart race?” You smirked, but doing as he says the moment you hit the red light, a little voice in your head celebrating when San nodded in approval.

“No,” he grumbled anyway. “But it does make me consider early retirement. Turn over there and be very careful when accelerating.”

But you lurched the car again. You expect him to snap, but no. “Again,” he said. There was no frustration, just quiet persistence. You realize, then, that he’s not just teaching you to drive - he’s teaching you discipline. “Relax, you control the car, not the other way around.”

Suddenly, his hand reaches over, his steady fingers adjusting yours on the wheel. The air shifts, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of every inch between you. “Y-You know,” you started, trying to distract yourself. “I do enjoy this. I don’t know how you handle this so calmly, though.”

San hummed, letting go of your fingers as if he caught himself doing what he wasn’t supposed to do. He gritted his teeth, fisting his palms. “Practice. Underneath all that brattiness, you’re a fast learner so it’s not too bad.”

You grinned from the unexpected compliment even though his avoidance stung a bit. “You’re very patient with me. I will admit, I was expecting you to lose your cool. I’m not the easiest person to teach.”

He doesn’t respond, but if you looked closely, you could swear that there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. All of a sudden, he tells you to stop and you realise that you were atop a hill that overlooked the entire city. It was how you found yourself sitting on the hood of your car with San. “It’s funny how we ended up here,” your voice tilted on an edge where you both knew you weren’t talking about location. “You, the cold bodyguard, and me with zero driving skills and zero redeeming qualities.”

San looks out the view, exhaling a soft breath that was meant to be a scoff but came out as something close to amusement. “You’re not entirely insufferable,” he said.

Your eyes widened, joy crossing your features as you turned to him. “That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You expect the usual deadpan reply, or nothing at all, but instead, he turns his head slightly, and you catch him smiling. You faltered, your heart dropping to your foot. It wasn’t a smirk nor was it an illusion, it was a real smile. It softens him in a way you didn’t think possible, like his walls cracked for a second and let the light in.

He was stunning. More stunning than the setting sun in front of you. And it hits you that you’ve never, ever seen San smile before. He looked away, but the smile lingered. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, making you realise that you said that out loud.

But you already were, because you know that smile is there. And you want to see it again. You mustered up a soft, gentle smile of your own. “You know,” you began, bumping your shoulder slightly with him, ignoring the sparks that followed. “You don’t have to be so serious all the time. It’s really nice when you’re not.”

An unexpected gust of wind blows towards your direction. You shiver, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself even with your jacket on. Had you known it was suddenly going to be this cold, you would have brought a thicker jacket with you. But without a word, San shrugs his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. It was enough to make heat rise from your chest, but even that wasn’t enough to curb the coldness of the wind. “Still cold?” San asked softly, his breath fogging up as he spoke.

You nodded absentmindedly. Just when you thought that your heart couldn’t beat any faster, San scoots closer to you until the space between you shrunk as his sides pressed onto yours. The shared warmth was immediate, and without hesitation, you took San’s jacket off, gently wrapping it around the both of you.

It doesn’t even register to you what you’ve done until you feel San stiffen against you and your heart flips in your chests. Your insides felt like it was blooming yet folding in on itself at the same time. “I hope this is okay,” you murmured. “I didn’t want you to be cold, too.”

You scooted even closer, your head leaning on his shoulder now and you felt him stiffen again so tensely that you also felt it when he stopped breathing, like he was weighing something in his mind. You get it, at the end of the day, he was still your bodyguard, after all, and there are some lines that should not be crossed.

But, in the end, he gives in. His body relaxes, he doesn’t pull away, and he adjusts his shoulders so your head is completely leaning on the crook of his neck to let you rest and share his warmth as if he’s decided that for now, this was alright. Your heart pounds immediately. It wasn’t just the unexpected closeness, it was San letting you in. Your stomach twists, not with nerves, but with something deeper. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. “You’re warm,” you murmured.

He hummed, not responding right away, just letting the wind carry your voice far away. You felt the subtle change in his posture, his back slouching slightly to accommodate you. “I come here a lot when I want to be alone,” he finally said. “When I’m not with you.”

You swallowed the emotions climbing up your throat at his word choices, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “Do you? What do you think about?”

He hesitated. “Everything.”

You don’t know what you were doing here, and with San of all people. You had no idea why you chose to go with him instead of doing what you were supposed to do, but it just felt right. Like this moment was meant for the two of you and the sky above was the only witness to the wire-thin connection that you were slowly forming with San. You didn’t want it to end. Praying was beyond you, but if there was one thing you found yourself wanting from a God that you never believed in, was for this moment to last a lifetime. You don’t say anything, just letting your head fall back to his shoulder, this time with more certainty, and he lets it happen.

And when his head tilts slightly, just enough that it brushes yours, you know. You wanted to know more about San, more about the bodyguard you never wanted in the first place. This stoic but patient man who’s taken every bullshit you’ve given him and returned it by teaching you and staying by your side through it all. You wanted to know it all. However, when you tried to open your mouth to talk about him just to keep this conversation going, you realised with a pang of guilt that you barely knew anything about him. You knew surface level information, but nothing beyond that. You faltered, numbness spreading through your arms at the realisation. You wanted to choke, how could you?

Because for all the times you flirted with him just to see if you could get under his skin, he kept you at arm’s length. More so because of restraint. You annoyed him, and threw weird requests at him for fun, and he always did them. Because no matter how ridiculous, how inconvenient and how irrational you were being, San never denied you. Not once.

And yet, here he is. Sitting beside you. Letting you lean on him. Letting his head brush yours. You rack your brain for something, anything,  and then you remember - the black belt. You still remember the day you made fun of him for it. You turn your head slightly, voice softer than it’s ever been with him. “You have a black belt, right?”

San tenses. It’s subtle, but you feel it in the way his shoulder stiffens beneath your cheek. His jaw tightens, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Third degree. My father sent me for training,” he mutters, voice low and clipped. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious,” you answered, opting to tell him half of the truth. And then, almost without thinking, you ask, “How old are you?”

It was such a stupid question, one you should have asked a long time ago if you weren’t so busy teasing him or being flirty and reckless. San turns his head slightly, eyes meeting yours, mild surprise shining through his lashes. “Thirty-two.”

You nod, swallowing the ache in your throat. You never even knew he was seven years older than you. You hold his stare for a while. The amber edge of his irises flickers like candlelight about to go out, the storm in them telling you all the things he refused to say out loud. “What’s your favourite color?” You asked next, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, his pupils contracting as he faltered, all the while the light in his eyes seemed to burn brighter by the second and your heart just hurt. Nobody has ever asked him questions like these and it hurts even more to know that it took you this long to ask. “Purple,” he said after a pause, his eyes searching for yours. “The darker one. Like wisdom unseen.”

You hummed, sadness swirling inside you. Somehow, that hurt you more than ever. It was beautiful. It was lonely. “When’s your birthday?”

San’s lips twitch on the corners ever so slightly. Your pupils widened slightly and somehow, the sight of it made San’s lips stretch even wider, his cheeks plumping ever so slightly, the dimples you didn’t know existed popping out. “It’s passed,” he said. “But it’s July 10, if you must know.”

Before you could think about it, your trembling fingers were touching his dimple. San stilled, not sure of how he should react, but his lashes dropped, his head tilted just slightly into your touch, almost involuntarily, like he couldn’t help himself, his dimple deepened beneath your fingertip as he smiled more. It felt warm and impossibly real. “Has anyone sung to you during your birthdays?” You asked, voice threatening to crumble under his stare.

“No,” he didn’t hesitate to answer.

Surprisingly, that did not shock you. You could feel it, the melancholy he exuded. “Any siblings?”

He avoided eye contact as he held his breath. “One. A younger brother,” he answered stiffly. A touchy topic, you figured. You didn’t elaborate. “Favourite food? Mine’s sushi.”

“I know,” he replied softly. You don’t know why that hit you hard. Maybe it was the way that your entire hand was now cradling his cheek. “Ramen’s a comfort food for me. Extra spicy.”

You exhaled through your nose, almost amused. “Of course it is,” you chuckled, your thumb caressing his jawline. “Do you dream when you sleep?”

San’s eyes flicker again, the light dimming to a point that you wanted to swim in them to find them again. “Not really,” he whispered. “I mostly have memories.”

You nod, your throat tightening. The more questions you asked, the harder it was to not let the hurt get to you. You wanted to ask him what kind of memories he had, but not yet. “Do you ever feel anything when I talk to you like this?”

San turns to you, and for the first time, there’s something raw in his gaze. “Yes. Regret,” he said. “Mostly professional. Personal? Yes, I do. I feel so much.”

The words settled like a weight in your chest, heavier than you expected. You weren’t ready. God, you weren’t ready for that level of honesty. You weren’t sure if you ever will be. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t. You leaned back on his shoulder, this time, your forehead leaning on him, his arm wrapping on your waist and pulling you even closer.

As luck would have it, you actually developed a fever the next morning. A real one this time. At first, you didn’t realise it, but when you started feeling like you were going to vomit every time you blinked or when the world started to spin, you already knew. You reckoned that it might have been the cold bite of the wind that kept hitting your skin. The memory was still fresh on your mind, San’s gentle hands raw against your clothed body. If that was the reason for your fever, then it was worth burning your entire soul for. 

You didn’t even hear your bedroom door creak open, didn’t hear San shut it gently behind him as he stood there just staring at you. You only realised you weren’t alone when he walked over and placed a tender hand on your forehead, the cooling sensation making you groan. “Water,” you croaked, forcing yourself to sit up and help yourself.

But a glass was already in front of your lips before you even opened your eyes. “Easy,” San whispered quietly, tilting the glass carefully up your lips as you greedily gulped every drop he was offering you to quench your drying throat.

“You’re burning up,” he said, more to himself than you, placing the glass down your bedside table to cover you with your blanket as you laid back down on the bed with much difficulty. His expression was unreadable, but his presence had made your heart twist anyway.

You reached out, your fingers lightly brushing his wrist through your half-lidded eyes. “And yet you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” San asked, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, tenderly tucking you under the blanket, making sure you were at your best comfort before he also adjusted your pillow so your neck wouldn’t be stiff when you woke up.

And when you did, you felt the fresh towel on your forehead, the cold compress that you knew had been changed more than once given how soothing it felt on your skin. The most damning thing of all, however, was the plate of your favourite French macarons on your bedside, waiting until you woke up and saw them. Your eyes stung - whether it was from the fever or the sight of the desserts, you didn’t know - and you raised your trembling hands to touch them, the pads of your fingers lightly grazing them, but not picking them up, opting to touch the damp towel on your forehead to remove it.

“Leave that on. I just put it there a couple of minutes ago.”

You turned your head and there he was, seated in the armchair with his arms crossed. He had ditched the jacket he always wore and was now left in a tight-fitting shirt that had his arms out on display. All you saw was him and how he drove to your favourite bakery to get you macarons. “It’s a bit warm to the touch, though,” you murmured, your soft voice almost inaudible.

That prompted him to get up and sit on your bed beside you once again. He clicked his tongue when he realised that you were right, gently taking off the towel, tenderly blowing on your forehead so the change in temperature wouldn’t make your head spin. Your chest could have caved in. He might as well dig his fist in your ribs and you wouldn’t feel a thing. He reached for the thermometer, brushing your hair away from your face. “I need to check, please open up,” he requested in the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

You did. You wanted to laugh at the way his jaw tensed, but you couldn’t. And when his shoulders relaxed for the slightest bit as he took the thermometer out, your throat wanted to constrict on itself. “Fever’s not completely gone, but better than earlier,” was all he said.

You were a mess of sweat and exhaustion, the words not completely registering in your head. “You should rest,” you urged. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

He doesn’t say a word, turning around to grab the armchair he was sitting at earlier to drag it closer to your bed before plumping down on it. “I am,” he said.

And he didn’t leave. You let him do whatever he wanted. San was here; he was quiet, steady, and unwavering, and somehow, that was all you needed at the moment. He sat in the chair all night, doing something on his laptop as you tried to sleep, but every time you moved or shifted, he would adjust the blankets so you’d stay warm.

In your haze, sometimes you’d feel his hand caressing your head, his thumb soothing the lines on your forehead as you whimpered pitifully. The only time he let go was when he had to coax you to drink your medicine. At some point in the night, your eyes fluttered open. Your subconscious searched for San. He was still on the same chair, however, his laptop was shut, and his eyes were trained on you.

He was watching you with such affection, you didn’t know what to do. His elbows rested on his knees, his gaze steady on your face like he was counting your breaths. When he saw that you were awake, he spoke, low, gruff, and laced with tiredness. “Sleep.”

Your throat burned, and something in his voice made you go quiet for a while. Finally, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because, just like you,” you began to speak, sitting up, using a pillow to prop yourself up. “I have dreams that are more memories than anything else.”

San doesn’t say anything at first, just staring at you intently, waiting to see if you were going to say something else. “What kind of memories does someone like you have?” He asked.

You tilted your head. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He exhales lightly through his nose, an amused sound coming out from the back of his throat. “You’re different,” he said. “I need to know what someone as exhausting but sophisticated, and outspoken but caring as you envisions in their head when everyone else is asleep.”

Need. It wasn’t a word he used often - not in reference to himself and certainly not in reference to you. For a second, you forgot about the fever. “Well, would you believe that this exhausting and outspoken girl has been lonely and insecure her entire life?”

That seemed to silence him, only raising his brow as he mouthed a small ‘oh?’ in interest. Of course, you weren’t going to let that pass. “Got you curious, huh?” You teased. “Thought you found me exhausting?”

“I do,” he said, not missing a beat. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know more about you.”

Your chest tightened. Maybe it was the dim lights of the lamp embracing the both of you, but you suddenly found yourself talking. They were things you never liked talking about, but you let them out at this very moment, anyway.

“I’m lonely, San,” you admitted quietly. “It may not seem like it since I try to hide it by being a nuisance with a loud mouth sometimes. These dreams…memories, they’re echoes of what I want for myself. I want to travel, to see the world in its entirety. I want to eat food without looking over my shoulder to see if someone’s going to criticise me for being unlady-like. I want to do things without thinking of the consequences.”

You didn’t know how else to put it. Didn’t know how to tell him that he was the one and only thing you orbited around that had your life revolving on its axis. That he was the one and only thing inadvertently keeping you going. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, watching you like you were something fragile. “Tell me more.”

You met his eyes finally, your fingers subconsciously tightening their hold onto your blanket like it was the thing that kept your sanity around San intact. “You really want to know?”

His subtle nod was all you needed before letting go. “Okay,” you said, voice softer now. “I am the heiress set to inherit the Kang Corporation. Now that in itself isn’t the problem. It’s what’s tied to it that’s got me feeling the way I do.”

He waited. You paused to take a breath. “It’s my father’s expectations, the board, the title. Everything. People looked at me and saw value, usefulness. That, I don’t mind. I like being useful. I craved it. I was worshipped and I reveled and soaked every second of it.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “But that was all I was, someone to admire. Without approval, I’m no one. After years on a pedestal, being ignored feels unbearable. And trying to stay up there? It drained me. You feel me?”

You looked at him pointedly. He didn’t say a word, but you could see it in his eyes that he knew exactly what you were trying to tell him. You took his hand in yours, squeezing it slightly. You hoped the message was clear in your eyes as you stared directly onto his dark ones - having you here with me is a relief. You were my reprieve. Thank you for being you.

“I have nothing,” you continued, letting his hand go. You ignored the slight twitch on his fingers as you did so. “But I’d rather be nothing than to inherit the company. How am I supposed to lead an entire corporation if I can’t function without constant validation? The anxiety and feeling that every decision I make might be the wrong one kills me on the inside. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t want to lose myself,” you said. “My mother did. She started the company after all, not my father. It totally consumed her until she passed. She, too, needed validation. Problem is, she received too much and keeping up ate her alive. The pressure was unbearable.”

San didn’t say anything, he just let you talk, but you saw the genuine surprise on his face. If it was any other situation, you would have gloated because San was usually expressionless, but not this time. “I’m a joke pretending to be someone—”

“Stop that,” he cut off. All you could do was blink, surprised by the steely edge of his voice. “Stop talking about yourself like you have no other value when you’re so much more than that.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that he didn’t get it, but the look he gave you shut you up. “You’re not nothing,” he said. “You are L/N Y/N and nothing can ever take that away from you, you understand me? You’re under pressure, and that’s okay. It makes you human.”

San’s hand brushed your hair away from your face while his other hand wiped a lone tear from your eye that you didn’t even notice had fallen. The ache in your chest wasn’t pain, it’s because for the first time, San was really looking at you. Not the version you projected, but the you that got forgotten even by yourself. You leaned into his touch, letting him guide you back down as exhaustion took hold. When he stood, you braced for him to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, he took off his watch, turned off the lamp, and quietly lay beside you.

And just like that, the world was at peace. He didn’t touch you, just stayed still on his back,  eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the answer to some unspoken question. You didn’t ask him why, but you didn’t need to. You turned your head to look at him. “May I?”

He turned his head as well, not understanding what you were asking him until you scooted your body closer to him, and he hummed in approval. You wrapped your arm around his broad chest and San hesitated at first, but he put a careful hand on top of your arm anyway. “A flower needs both the sun and the rain to grow,” he whispered in the dark, the deep timbre of his voice soothing you. “It’s okay to feel every bit of pain.”

You nod against his chest, grateful that someone understands without trying to fix it. “Thanks for staying. I don’t know what I’d do without you, really.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmurs, voice low and wary. “You might be making a mistake.”

“Am I?” You counteracted. “Is it because you’re here with me, sharing a bed? Or is it because we’ve crossed a line we can’t undo anymore?”

He doesn’t say anything, but you could feel it; you could feel all the things he refused to say out loud threatening to burst out the seams. You could feel him holding you tighter; tighter than what you would’ve deemed normal.

Something had changed. It wasn’t loud or pronounced, but you could feel it in the air even though the both of you didn’t acknowledge it. San still restrained himself and refused to let go of what was holding him back from being with you, but the edges of his stoicism were softer now.

“Morning,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how unfairly attractive San was as he exercised on your balcony at six in the morning. He raised a brow at your sudden interruption. “I made you coffee,” you held the steaming mug up. “Black. Matches how dark your personality is.”

He rolled his eyes so far back up his head, you thought it was about to get stuck there. “I appreciate the effort,” he said flatly, taking the mug. “Skip the commentary and just hand it over next time, please.”

You laughed, soft and genuine. “God, you’re such a party pooper,” you shook your head, leaning over the railing, staring at the rising sun overhead. ”You know, sharing coffee this early is pretty much dating in this day and age.”

You could feel him move behind you, closing the distance as you felt his chest connect with your back, his arms trapping you in place that made your heart beat faster inside your chest. “It’s just caffeine,” San deadpanned. “Perhaps you’ve had too much and it’s made you delusional.”

You scoffed lightly as a reply to cover the blush on your cheeks at the feeling of his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. Whatever this was you were feeling, you just lie to yourself a little, denying the growing softness that has taken root in your chest whenever he’s near. Most of the time, the both of you barely talked. There were times where you and San just sat, watching the city below, and if one of you ended up in each other’s arms for some reason, none of you said anything. But the both of you never moved either.

“Red kinda suits me, don’t you think?” You smirked, strutting on purpose to show off the new tracksuit you’ve ordered to annoy him. “It’s the colour of, you know, desire.”

“It’s also the colour of warning signs,” he shot back, an irritated vein popping on his temple, as he closed the journal he always wrote on. He looked you up and down with a frown, his arms crossed. “Fitting for you. Where are you going?”

“Gym in the main lobby. Haven’t worked out in months, really,” you sheepishly said, rubbing the back of your neck. He doesn’t reply, and you take that as a sign to go. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I won’t leave the building, I promise.”

The relentless, sarcastic back-and-forth that had defined your unusual relationship from the start had remained constant. You didn’t want it any other way, and at this point, you were loving his reactions even more. You weren’t out to get him anymore. You just genuinely loved teasing him and your need for his validation was something that was way past you. “Wait,” he stopped you.

You froze, half way out the door, your hand still holding the doorknob. San walks towards you and you thought that he was going to stop you from going out, but then, he suddenly kneels. “What—”

“Don’t want you falling flat on your face, do we?” San grumbled, tying your shoelaces for you gently like he was getting paid to do it. You blushed for two reasons - embarrassment because you actually did forget to tie them, and the gesture itself. 

“T-Thanks,” you muttered, feeling warmth rise up to your ears, though your heart was telling you to say more. 

He cleared his throat, taking an awkward step back, as if the act itself had surprised him. “Call me if something happens. Call me when you’re done. Call me when you get there.”

You blinked. “O-Okay? San, it’s literally a five minute walk from here.”

“I mean it,” he said, impatient as ever, his hand now on your arm, squeezing it lightly to make a point. “I’m marching there if I don’t see you back here in an hour.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a mock salute. “Sir, yes, Sir. I’ll remember, Sir.”

His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. “You’re crazy,” he said, eyes darkening with that mix of amusement and something else, something softer than usual.

That was the other thing. San smiled a little more, or at least, in a way that someone of a few words who is also very stoic and cold could. It wasn’t very often, and it wasn’t done to please you, but it was enough to remind you that it was possible; that at some point in his life, there was a time that San probably smiled a little more carefree. 

You found yourself laughing more, too, as though some weight you had carried without realizing had begun to lift. You spent more time together, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You both did and those moments just made you feel so alive. You didn’t know where to start. Was it when he started holding your hand more? Was it when he started to slowly let go of what was holding him back? Or was it when you both slept in the same bed every night? Perhaps it was his soft lullaby to soothe your nightmares. Maybe it was all the times he hugged you from behind as he took a nap on the couch.

“You know, if you dropped this brooding, macho man persona, you’d be a little less suffocating to be around with,” you remarked one evening out of the blue.

“I see,” he drawled, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched you put your leg on top of his, scooting closer to him on the couch. Amusement danced in his eyes, his hand impulsively tucking your hair behind your ear. “So suffocating.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, lacing your hand in his. You teased him sometimes, just enough to see the faintest smile on his lips, and though he sighed at you, he never let go of your hand. It’s just the cold, you thought while pretending the warmth between your hands isn’t doing anything to your mind.

You catch yourself watching him more than you think you should. He stopped frowning whenever he wrote in his journal, letting you sit beside him without a single word of complaint. You find excuses to linger near him and you find yourself hoping, in ways you wouldn’t admit, to linger just a little longer.

You both liked watching the storm. “No matter how many times I lie wide awake to the sound of this poison rain, it’s very soothing,” he explained in that patience you’ve come to adore him for while the both of you were staring out the window to watch  the torrential downfall of the rain.

You hummed in agreement, reaching for his hand without looking. San lets you take it. “Do you ever wish you weren’t assigned to me as my bodyguard?”

He squeezes your hand. “Not once.”

Something in your chest aches. “You’re not supposed to be this tender.”

Still, he doesn’t move away. Persistence crawls into you. “You’re breaking your own rules, San,” you spoke quietly as if doing otherwise would ruin the moment forever.

His gaze flicked to you, his eyes reflecting the thunderstorm amidst the chaos brewing in them. “You make it impossible not to,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “I can’t help it.”

You didn’t smile, didn’t tease. Not this time. He leaned in, forehead against your temple, and you felt it - his responsibility towards you that he couldn’t ignore. But for now, with the storm outside, San stopped pretending that distance was still a viable option. Because despite the way he chose to be warm and present for you, he was always holding something back. It wasn’t all that hard to see. Every time he brushed his hand with yours, he would pull away like he touched fire. The way he would pull you close, yet still feel rigid.

And you realized that it wasn’t disinterest. It was restraint and professionalism. He was your bodyguard, but more than that, he was careful not to let the closeness tip over into something forbidden. He was disciplined enough not to let things get too far to the point of no return. Even now as his forehead leaned against your head, his hands wrapped around your waist, he never crossed that line. He would never let whatever this was between you disrupt the role he had chosen to take in your life. It was only acceptable if he was the one initiating it.

Maybe that was why you couldn’t decide what you felt for him even though you were more than sure what it was. You wanted to chase and lose yourself in the comfort he was giving you, but you knew better. San would always hold himself back, for both your sakes, and that you had to respect it even if your heart didn’t.

It was hard not to think about him all the time, and your eyes had a harder time leaving his form in whatever he chose to do. San would make it a point to eat his meals with you, but right now, it was difficult because you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You swallowed, heart thudding against your ribs, and the words slipped out before you could stop them. “Sannie…”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said it. San froze, fork mid-air. “You,” he rasped, trying to locate the line between being professional and personal. “Don’t.”

You laughed softly, trying to sound nonchalant even though you might as well keel over, hurt at the distance he was putting. He looked away, jaw tightening ever so slightly, as though he was wrestling with something unspoken. “I’m still your bodyguard,” he said, clipped, careful. “Don’t forget that. Don’t let it mean anything more.”

You stood slowly, walking around the table, sighing when he tried to push you away, but  before you could fully walk away, he pulled you closer, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you actually walking away from him. “Don’t,” was all he said, painfully so, as he pulled you onto his lap.

Something in your chest explodes. Hurt covers your features when he grabs the back of your head, gently pushing it down until your face is in the crook of his neck. “You’re pushing boundaries,” he muttered, voice low, almost a growl, but he stayed. He stayed.

You closed your eyes and just let him finally allow himself to stroke your hair. “Am I?”

“I’m still your bodyguard,” he exhaled, but there was a softness in the edges of his voice now, an acknowledgment of something unspoken.

You were about to pull away to look at him, but he didn't let you. He pushes your head down on his neck again, feeling his breath hitch when your lips accidentally touch the sensitive skin. “I’m still your bodyguard,” he repeated, voice low and clipped.

“I know, San,” you sighed, your fingers gripping on his shoulders, refusing to let the hurt get to you, hoping that this quiet surrender would be enough to breach the walls he built around himself. “I heard you for the first time.“ Your breath got caught in your throat when he pushed your head down even harder on his neck, almost feeling the veins thud in rhythm to the increasing beating of his heart. “No, Y/N. You don’t understand,” he swallowed, surprising you with how sorrowful and regretful it sounded. “I’m still your bodyguard.”

You froze, finally understanding what he was trying to say all along. The crack in his voice betrayed the fact that he couldn’t let himself reach for you the way he might want to. The unspoken longing in the way he desperately stroked your hair solidified every aspect of how San, a bodyguard, cannot be with you simply because of your different statuses in life.

You swallowed, heart thudding painfully, realizing what it meant: the closeness, the warmth, the touches, the moments that felt like confessions, none of it could go further - not while he was on your father’s payroll and remained as your protector. You pulled away, a melancholic smile tugging at your lips. “It’s alright,” you said, lightly brushing your hands on his cheeks. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it out—”

San’s jaw tightened, pulling your hands away just enough to remind both of you of the boundary he would never cross. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s not that simple. It’s not going to work. The life I lead….we’re not meant to exist on the same path.”

You blinked, heart stuttering in your chest. “What do you mean?” You whispered, a shiver crawling up your spine. You stood up, backing up from him, trying to process his words.

“I mean,” he said, his voice barely above a growl. “Some things cannot be changed and are bigger than feelings. Some things…could destroy everything between us before it even begins.”

Your fingers itched to reach for him, yet you held back, sensing the wall he had built around himself. San’s eyes…there was something wrong. You could feel it. You swallowed, chest tightening at his words, but refused to let despair take over. “Whatever it is, we’ll find a way,” you said softly, voice trembling but defiant. 

San’s jaw tightened further, and he finally looked away, exhaling slowly, the weight of both his duty and whatever secret he carried pressing down on him. “San,” you said slowly. “This…this isn’t about you being a bodyguard, isn’t it?”

His gaze darkened, shadowed by something you couldn’t read. “And what if it isn’t?”

His words cut through the air like ice. You didn’t know what to say because, perhaps, maybe you had always known. The way he pulled away whenever you got too close, the way he never let anything get too far, and the way he ignored you for months whenever you flirted with him. You told yourself it was duty and restraint. You convinced yourself that was all it ever was.

But it wasn’t, was it? You had seen it in his eyes sometimes, that flicker of something heavier, a shadow you mistook for weariness or reluctance. There was something in his voice that unsettled you. There was something deeper, darker lurking in the surface. Sadness, yes, but layered with something you couldn’t pinpoint. And you needed to know what it was. You leaned closer, defiant, unwilling to let him retreat into silence again. “San, what did you do?”

San simply exhaled, a quiet surrender in the weight of his shoulders. “I talked to Wooyoung this morning,” he said, avoiding eye contact, gritting his teeth.

He might as well have punched you square in the gut. “You did,” you deadpanned, at least, tried to. The knot in your throat refused to go down. “You talked to my father’s head security. Why is that? If you’d talked to me first, then I would have told you we could make it work.”

But you knew. Deep down, you knew. San’s eyes flicked up to yours, hard and unreadable. “Don’t kid yourself,” he said bitterly. “No matter how many breaths we’ll take, we still won’t be able to breathe. We—I shouldn’t have let it get this far. You think you like me, but you don’t.”

And somehow, that hurt more than anything else he’s done to you. The sharpness in his tone caught you off guard. “You’re the one who doesn't understand, San,” you tried to explain. “You’re not just my bodyguard, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel seen.”

“Tell me, would you kill to save a life?”

The question lodged in your chest like stone. “What are you—”

“Tell me,” he pressed, stepping forward, close enough that you felt his heat but not his touch. “How far would you go to prove you’re right?”

Your breath hitched, pulse racing. You knew he wasn’t just asking hypotheticals anymore. San was testing you, pulling at threads you didn’t even realize were tangled. “Why are you saying this?” You asked, your voice unsteady but firm.

San’s gaze softened only for a fleeting second, before the shadows reclaimed him. “We’re more different than you think we are, Y/N. You keep talking about making it work, but what if the only way to make it work isn’t what you think it is? What if it costs more than you’re willing to pay?”

Your brows furrowed, irritation creeping up your throat. “You’re talking in circles, San. You make it sound like I’m walking into some kind of trap just by wanting you.”

His jaw clenched, but his voice remained low, careful. “Maybe you are.”

Your pulse spiked, heat curling in your chest. “Maybe you’re right,” you scoffed, irritated. “Maybe we are different. Because I’m trying to chase you while all you’ve done is run away from the light—”

“And I’m trying to run away into the night to save you,” he cut off, voice rough with something almost like regret. “Don’t make this harder than it already is—”

“No, San. You’re wrong,” you seethed. “You’re running away to save yourself. So maybe I won’t kill to save a life, but I would do it to savour life. And I would go through everything not to prove I’m right, but because I know it’d be worth it. So go ahead, pretend that none of this mattered.”

He didn’t answer right away, and that silence was worse than any rejection he could’ve given. It made you want to shake him, to force the truth out of him. Anything but this deliberate distance he kept building between you. Instead, he walks out and you don’t see him for days after that.

The odds were stacked against you from the very beginning, you reckoned. San avoided you in every way possible, and to be honest, you avoided him with equal energy. When you entered a room, you would turn around and pretend he wasn’t there, and when he would come home after being out, he would go straight to his room without even looking at you.

And by God, it hurts. You wished it didn’t because something in your chest cracked. You wish there was something - anything - because at least that would mean that San felt something about you rather than the void and emptiness you’ve trapped yourself in. It wasn’t his silence that was bothering you, it was the fact that it wasn’t troubling to him. He was so nonchalant about it, in fact, that he had submitted his two weeks notice. It hit you like a freight truck that you actually fell for the real him and not just the attractive man you’re infatuated with. Maybe it had always been love that you had tried to push away.

“Wooyoung called this morning,” you brought up out of the blue one night, opting to ask him about it straight rather than let it stew. “He said you’re quitting. I-Is it true?”

His back was turned to you as he leaned over the railing of your balcony. He turns slightly where you could only see his side profile, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Yes,” he said, clipped, before turning back and ignoring you once more.

Your heart squeezed. “I didn’t know you smoked,” you commented.

Smoke rose from his mouth into the night. “I didn’t.“

Just like that, more days stretched longer in silence. You tried your best to be alright with it even though all you saw was red. Red was the colour of love that bled you dry. Or rather, its unrequited state; the breaking of your heart that makes blood rush through your veins in painful bursts to remind you of who you cannot have. And in all the laughter, the lack of it, San’s denial and refusal, you realized that even in the bad times, you have never felt more alive than you did the entire time you were with him. Maybe you had long fallen in love with him. Maybe you fell in love at first sight with Choi San after all. And it would’ve been easier if the both of you stood your ground. Because though he tried to keep his distance, San was still San. You’d find French macarons in the kitchen, even though he wouldn’t admit it was his doing. Whenever you’d struggle with anything, it was him who still helped you efficiently, but never met your eyes. Sometimes you’d look up from a book and catch him watching you from across the room, only for his eyes to dart away, as if he’d been caught stealing something forbidden. Other times, it was you who faltered. Neither of you said a word, but the glances were there. San was a good man. Despite everything, he taught you a lot. Not just how to function normally, but to live in general. He taught you a lot of lessons that you were going to bring for the rest of your life. And now, he would be the one to take everything away like he had the right to.

“Did he say anything?” You spoke in a hushed tone, pacing around your room nervously as you held the phone tightly in your hands against your ear. “Did he say why he was quitting?”

“Not really,” Wooyoung sighed on the other end. “To be fair, that bodyguard of yours never really talked a lot. Made me nervous, really. I’ve never even seen him in person. Always had an excuse to not come to the headquarters. Anyway, we already found a replacement—”

“No,” you halted walking, enunciating the denial a lot more sharply than you intended it to. “I refuse. If it isn’t him, then I don’t want anyone. Tell Dad he can take it up to me if he insists, but I wholeheartedly refuse.”

“I understand,” he placated. Suddenly, he made a humming sound as if he had recalled something. “Come to think of it, he did mumble something odd before he hung up. Said something about handling things correctly. Is something bothering you, my lady?”

You hung up immediately, anger and resentment rising up your throat. You swore that you were going to avoid San, and it should’ve stayed that way, but when he suddenly approached you one night, you couldn’t help but look at him. “Let’s go for a drive,” he said, not waiting for you to reply, turning around to leave through the door, the jangling of the keys growing more and more distant.

So when you ended up in the car together that evening, the tension felt unbearable. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, not bothering to face him. “You’re quitting, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. “I am,” he sighed, sounding like the patient man you’ve come to know him for. “This…might be the last time we spend with one another before I go.”

Your jaw twitched, frustration flickering behind your smile. “Gods, you’re infuriating,” you muttered. “Do you ever drop the act? Or is this all just who you are?”

San didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady and calm like still water. “I don’t believe it’s an act.”

“So what is this? A pity party? You’re leaving, San,” you said, voice lowering, now threaded with something  sharper. “Am I the reason you’re leaving? Did I do something you didn’t like? Is this it, San? Or is it because I’mI beneath your attention?”

His eyes flickered, but you caught it. “You are not beneath anything. Don’t you dare say that to my face,” he seethed in pure anger, eyes narrowing into slits. “You are dangerous to my sanity, surely you’ve caught on to that?”

You laughed, breathless from disbelief. “Excuse me? Dangerous? When you’re the one leaving me after showing me what it’s like to finally be alive? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

San’s jaw clenched, the only visible sign of discomfort. He didn’t reply anymore, just staring ahead the road  to reel in whatever anger he was feeling. The rest of the drive was uneventful with the sound of the radio quietly playing a song into the darkness. I just died in your arms tonight It must've been something you said I just died in your arms tonight You wanted to scoff. The irony wasn’t lost on you and neither was the way his grip faltered on the wheel as if the lyrics struck closer than he wanted to admit. His hand shot up to increase the volume immediately, the music finally filling in the awkward silence. I keep looking for something I can't get Broken hearts lie all around me And I don't see an easy way to get out of this After a stretch of unbroken silence, San spoke again, voice low, weighted with finality. “There’s one thing I still haven’t taught you.”

He pulled the car into an empty parking lot. He turned off the engine but left the song playing, its words bleeding into the night. Slowly, he stepped out, then opened your door, offering his hand. His lips curved, the smallest ghost of a smile, bitter and fleeting. “Dance with me.”

You felt like you were punched in the gut. Your trembling hands tentatively grabbed his, and there in the middle of nowhere, you let him guide you. His hand rested at your back, steady but stiff, like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will. You tipped your chin up, and for a moment the world shrank down to just the two of you. He looked at you and it was then you saw the hurt sitting heavy in his gaze, buried so deep it made your chest ache. She made it easy, she made it feel right But now it's over, the moment has gone I followed my hands, not my head, I know I was wrong

You’ve never hated a song more than you did now. Tears blurred your vision, but you still managed to laugh, shaky and fragile. “Do you even know how to dance, San?”

His mouth curved faintly, but the sadness never left his eyes. He shook his head once, deliberate. “No.”

He twirled you once, but not before wiping your unshed tears. His hand was steady at your back, his breath warm against your temple. You clutched his shirt tighter as you both swayed to the music. Your cheeks were pressed onto his chest, your tears soaking it while he stroked your hair, slowly swaying you for comfort.

I just died in your arms tonight It must've been some kind of kiss I should've walked away

San didn’t let go. And in that dance, it became unbearably clear - that this hurt him more than it hurt you. It was in the way he held you, in the way his lips repeatedly gave the top of your head soft kisses. All you could do was hold his shirt tighter like it could make him stay. The drive back was quieter than the ride out, the weight of what had just happened lingering in the air. Despite the fact that all of this was just leading to a goodbye, you couldn’t say you wouldn’t cherish this even though this was all you were going to get with San. You followed San in the house, the silence gnawing at you until you couldn’t take it. “Thank you,” you said softly.

He glanced at you, brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” you whispered, genuine and truthful. “For teaching me things you didn’t have to. For putting up with me when I made it impossible. For staying as long as you did.”

He grabbed your wrist. “This isn’t about you,” he said, voice low and tight. “It isn’t on you. None of this…it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your heart clenched at the weight in his tone. “Then why doesn’t it feel like it?”

Something sharp and almost painful passed through his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came. You could see it in his face how torn he was between letting himself be selfish or doing what he thought was right. You were going to walk away, but he yanked you back. San was tense, body trembling, and for a second, it looked like he couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to pry yourself away from him. "San, please. Don’t make this harder—”

“I want to give you the world, Y/N,” he cut off, voice bordering on distress. “My world. God, I want to so badly, but I did something. I didn’t want it to happen, and now, I can’t take it back.”

His eyes searched your troubled ones like he was waiting for you to understand without making him say it. “I fucked up,” he hissed, running a frustrated hand over his usually kempt hair. “I thought I could make it work, that what I’m doing was right, but I was so stupid. So stupid.”

You shook your head, unsure whether to feel heartbroken or not. You didn’t even know what he meant. “San, you’re scaring me,” your voice trembled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

"If you knew," he went on, clutching your hand tighter. "You wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't blame you, I-I just can't," San broke off, looking he wanted to say more, but chose to go the other way. "I'm sorry. If I walked away a while back…if there was a version where you’d be uninvolved, I’d do it in a heartbeat—"

“So everything was a lie, then?” You asked, afraid of what he might say. You're not sure what you’re accusing him of, only that something isn’t sitting right. “Was I the lie? Were you?”

His eyes softened, but he didn’t flinch. Somehow, that just made everything much worse. “No,” he whispered. “You were the only good thing I never lied about.”

He said it like a confession, but not one you could actually believe. He was giving you the outline of a story and daring you to colour in the rest. It didn’t feel like comfort. Rather, this was more cruel. He said he never lied about you, but he never confirmed if he lied about himself.

Deep down, you did have an idea. He said it himself - you were a lot smarter than you let on. The way San’s eyes would harden whenever his phone buzzed and how he never answered in front of you. How he’d been leaving every single day and disappearing for hours when he thought you wouldn’t notice. His expression darkening whenever you mentioned either his past or perhaps a secret in the guise of a joke. Maybe you’d always known, but ignored the signs.

“So what else?” You asked, sharper than you liked. “What else did you lie about? What was the reason you never fully smiled around me, San? All the things you taught me, were those lies?”

He shook his head, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red. “I’d teach you a million more things if it meant staying with you for as long as I wanted to. I’ll always come to do more for you if you ask.”

And you could tell he meant it. You nodded, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You had nothing to lose anymore. “You know, I’ve never been kissed properly before.”

San’s composure faltered in genuine shock before he quickly forced his face back to normal. He swallowed hard, voice dropping low when he spoke. “You want me to teach you that?”

Your pulse raced, unafraid of what the night could mean, especially if it was your last. “I don’t know, San. Your kiss might kill me.”

You could see the tightness in his jaw, the strain in his breathing, as he fought some unseen battle in his head. “It might,” he rasped, eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

You leaned in, lining your lips with his. “So won’t you do it so I can die happy?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured hoarsely, his grip on you so tight, his knuckles turned white. You knew you’d bruise. He froze when your lips touched, like he was still trying to stop himself. You whined on his lips, and that was what undid him. San’s lips pressed harder against yours, still controlled, but no longer denying himself. He pulled away slightly to look at you, making sure you still wanted this, his hand cupped your jaw and his mouth back crashed against yours, roughly this time.

You gasped into him, and the sound made him pull you even closer, his hands sliding to your waist. There was no hesitation this time. It was messy and desperate, all the things he’d been holding back breaking loose at once. His teeth grazed your lip, his tongue begging for entrance, and the low sound he made against you left your heart racing dangerously fast.

And when you pulled back to take a breath, he chased your lips like a man starved and depraved. “No, no, no,” he begged, desperate and needy, his entire body shaking, voice cracking in between. “Don’t you dare stop now, please. Not when I’ve waited this long. I–”

The sound that slipped from you when his mouth pressed back even harder against yours shattered everything. His hand traveled up, gently grabbing a handful of your hair while the other didn’t hesitate to palm your ass. You sighed in his mouth and it prompted him to finally drag you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours as you both started stripping. 

Your arms subconsciously tried to cover yourself, but the small growl from behind San’s throat brought shivers up your spine. It made you back up to the bed and by accident, you fell on it. San collapsed on top of you, burying his face on your neck, his breath ragged and laboured. “I need you,” he gasped. “I don’t know if I could go on not knowing what it’s like to have you.”

He planted soft kisses up your jaw, your shoulders, sucking the tender skin there before doing the same to your collarbones. “And I want everyone to know you were mine for tonight,” he growled, rutting his cock onto your core without entering. “Mine.”

His words made your stomach flip. You held onto his shoulders, your nails sinking onto his taut skin. “So touch me,” you begged. “I need you, San. Please.”

His eyes softened, the hesitation clear despite the haze clouding over them, but when he pulled him close, pushing your hips up to meet his, lust won him over. He wanted you, and he didn’t know where to start. Now that you were under him, he wasn’t afraid to take what he needed. “Like this?” San asked, his tongue playing with your nipples.

You moaned in confirmation, your hips rocking up. His hand gently spreads your thighs open to stroke your throbbing clit. “Months, Y/N. Months,” he gritted. “It was so fucking hard to resist you, you know that? You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off in this fucking room every night when you’ve gone to sleep, thinking about this very moment.”

“F-Feels good,” you moaned, and when he slipped a finger inside you, you cried out loud. He held you tighter, the veins on his neck popping out. “San…”

“That’s it,” he panted, his finger hastening their pace. “My good fucking girl. I want to hear you.”

The control he had was slowly slipping away from him and you could see it. He was starting to look more feral and more possessive. It didn’t take long to make you come undone on his fingers. “Good girl,” he murmured, kissing your sweaty forehead, whispering the words over and over again as if you were someone worth worshipping.

He was still careful with you. As if you couldn’t fall harder for him. You pulled him for a kiss, whimpering at the loss of his fingers inside you. “San,” you let out, breathless. “You’re going to ruin me. I-I think you already did.” His breath hitched with need and you felt his hard cock twitch against your sensitive areas. It was like you unlocked something, grabbing his cock against your slit, his other hand grabbing your hair a little tighter. “I ruined you?” His eyes darkened at how you shivered at his touch. “What makes you say that?”

Him teasing you was driving you to your insanity. “Because—Sannie, oh, t-that,” you mewled, getting crossed eyed at the feel of his cockhead flicking your clit over and over again. The grip you had on his toned biceps was like a vice. “S-Stop teasing me, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” The smirk he let out was borderline demonic, his tongue swiping over his upper teeth as he watched you unravel before him. “Go on. Say it. Say why I ruined you,” he barely slips the tip in before pulling out again. “And you better say my name like that again.”

You flushed in embarrassment, trying to wiggle away from him, but he wasn’t having it. “No, no, no,” he chuckled darkly, pushing you deeper in the mattress, slipping the tip in again before pulling out just to see you squirm. “No running away from me. Now say it.”

“Sannie, please,” you whimpered pathetically, trying to rut your hips up to take him deeper, but he wasn’t having it. “I need you. You think I’d just let any other man have me like this?”

That did it. His breath stuttered, shoulders locking as if he could hold himself together, but then his eyes opened, and he wasn’t the same San anymore. The restraint shattered in an instant, leaving him undone, raw, and burning with a hunger he could no longer cage. “Fuck, I’ll make you feel good,” he said, voice deep and husky. “I’ll make you feel real good.”

He pulled away for a moment, grabbing his wallet from his pants, and all of a sudden, there was a condom in front of your face. “Bite,” San ordered. Confused, you blink a few times as you warily eye the condom he was holding flat near your mouth. Unsure what exactly he's going for, you bite down on the edge and he rips the wrapper open with one smooth pull. He smirked, and for a moment, you just stared at him in a daze, your pulse spiking up in dangerous levels.

You watch him slide the rubber on his aching shaft before he grabs a few pillows to put under your head, making sure you are comfortable first. “Tell me,” he slides his cock against your slit again. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“I don’t care,” you babbled, already lost in the pleasure that’s still yet to come. “J-Just, please—”

A degrading smile fills his lips. “You can do better than that, little bunny.” “Please,” you cried out. “San, I need it badly, I need you so bad, please.”

Luckily, he was getting impatient. He sank into you deep in one smooth motion. San fit inside you so well, the stretch was delicious. He buries his head on your shoulder, hissing a curse on your skin. “God,” he choked. “Goddamn it, Y/N.”

He didn’t even try to start slow, setting a quick, frantic pace as soon as he began to move. You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation of his cock going back and forth against your walls, your nails involuntary scratching his back from time to time when he hit an angle that had you seeing stars behind your eyes. “D-Do I feel good?” You whimpered.

He turned his head sideways, still leaning on your shoulders. The sight could have finished you then and there - his eyes were half-lidded, his mouth slightly opened as he pounded onto you, drops of sweat dripping from his temples to his veiny neck. San was deep; both in you and in the pleasure.

“The best,” he groaned, breath laboured, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, his eyes still on you. “The fucking best, bunny. It’s like you were made for me.” You wanted to say that maybe you were, but his teeth had already clamped on your collarbone. You moaned lewdly, your tongue lolling out from your mouth. San shuddered at the sight, and he set an even more impossible pace as he began to fuck you even harder.

You were clinging to each other so desperately. You could only imagine how difficult it was for him to refrain from touching you. It made sense why his pace was sloppy rather than rhythmical and the way he drank the taste of your lips as if he could never get his fill. You gave him everything you could, wrapping your legs around him to take him deeper.

“Want me to breed you full of my cum?” His words were low, slurring as his pace got even more frenzied. One of his hands was rubbing your clit, his leg propped up so he could reach deep inside you with every thrust. “Want me to remind you who you belong to?”

“Yours,” you gasped, concentrating on that ticklish feeling in your lower gut. “I-I’m yours.”

Something sad flickered in his eyes, there and gone so quickly. “If you were actually mine, I’d do this over and over again,” he confessed. “I’d never let you go.” But I am. I’ve always been yours. Whether you knew it or not. Whether you felt it or not. You were so close, you could feel it, and you knew he was too. His fingers drawing circles on your clit became more fervent, his hips drilling into you like a madman leaving his mark on his property. You wanted to jump into it, that never-ending chasm calling to you, but just before your climax hit, San’s voice cut through, his hand on your face.

“Keep your eyes open,” he rasped frantically, leaning down until his forehead pressed against yours, with desperation you’ve never seen from him even from today, and it terrifies you a little. “Look at me when you come, don’t you dare close your eyes.” Your eyes fluttered, your orgasm slowly crashing into you in waves. “San, I can’t,” you whined, almost painfully, your eyes shutting close. “San, please, let me come, fuck, please–”

“No, please, love, please, I need you to look at me,” he whimpered, voice cracking pitifully, He sniffled, something akin to a sob crawling up his throat. You felt his fingers pry your eyes open and you gasped.  “Don’t close them, look at me, don’t shut me out, please,” he begged.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the sheer plea in his tone. He was unraveling and it was your undoing. You tried to keep your eyes open as you felt your orgasm wash over you the same time you felt San’s load shoot deep inside you. Amidst your screams of pleasure was your heart breaking under the weight of how desperately San needed you to remember this.

He slots his lips to yours, meeting his kisses with equal fervent, until you feel wetness slide between your lips. They were coming in rapids, and they were salty. San was silently crying as he poured all that he had in the kiss you both shared in the aftermath of it all.

San collapsed against you, his forehead buried in the curve of your neck. His shoulders trembled, uneven breaths breaking into sobs he didn’t hide. You wrap your arms around him, your soothing hushes filling in the air until his sobs turned into heartbreaking wails of despair that left him chasing his laboured breaths in your arms. There was so much you could do as the sound of San breaking down filled the room, but at the same time, you didn’t know what to do to help him. It was everything - the secrets he refused to tell you, memories that plagued him, his life before you that he probably was never going to say.

Hours could have passed, but in reality, it was only minutes. San’s breathing evened, small hiccups left as a telltale sign. “I’m going to do right by you,” he suddenly said, voice rugged and scratchy from prolonged sobs. “I’m going to set things straight. You believe me, right? ”

For once, you didn’t know what to say. He tenses, his swollen eyes meeting yours, his hold on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d disappear. “I’ll do anything for you,” he added. “No matter what happens from now on…I want you to know that this is who I am, alright?”

You froze, not knowing what to do, but he wasn’t having it. “Y/N? Answer me,” he begged. And you had to nod your head, trusting your gut to tell you the right thing.

San left two weeks ago. It had been a long week of pretending you were alright. An exhausting week of getting used to being alone without his constant presence. A torturous week of his hands still imprinted on your skin. A masochistic week of hoping the bruises and love bites he left on you would never fade. A desolate week of acceptance and denial going back and forth.

You tried to move on, you really did. He was just a man, anyway, and you were L/N Y/N, the carefree heiress of the Kang Corporation. There were plenty of people who were willing to grovel on bended knees for even a sliver of your attention. But San was the man you fell in love with. He was the man that changed your life for the better, the one who taught you the importance of loving yourself because no one else would do it better. How do you move on from the best thing that’s ever happened to you? How? You refused another bodyguard, much to your father’s chagrin, but also, you refused to stay cooped in your penthouse all day long. You were done looking at every inch of the house and being reminded of what you never completely had with him in the first place. You tried to regain your sense of self, and even then, San’s influence on you was strong. Though if you were being honest with yourself, all of these were just coping mechanisms. In reality, you isolated yourself. Your phone was on permanent ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode, sending a text to signify you’re still alive somehow, and you completely disregarded work. It was how you found yourself standing still in front of this wretched cafe at ten o’clock in the morning. Your isolation was bothering everybody so Yeosang had instructed Wooyoung to get you by force so you could finally explain why the L/N Y/N was suddenly living like a hermit. You adjusted your sunglasses, squared your shoulders, and walked in. As expected, everyone’s heads turned to you, including the people you were meeting. You were the epitome of confidence and allure, after all. So why was the attention making your skin crawl now?

“Oh, she shows up,” Seonghwa smirked, pulling a chair for you to sit down, to which you gracefully did. “Finally. So you’re alive. Got me worried you died in your sleep or something.”

You scoffed. “Please,” you deadpanned. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You’re right, you were already doing that to yourself,” Yunho sipped his coffee, blunt as always. “Your brother,” he side-eyes Yeosang. “Is worried. We all are. What’s happening to you?”

You gritted your teeth, your jaw ticking at the straightforward question. Seonghwa squinted his eyes at you. “And you look different,” he pointed out. “Not physically. I can’t explain it. You have this dark cloud above you. Hard to say. Can’t fool us, sunshine. I can see through you.” 

You rolled your eyes, heaving out a dry laugh. “Am I not allowed to have time for myself? Jesus,” you sarcastically remarked, adjusting your sunglasses, hoping that no one noticed how much your hands were shaking. “Why am I here anyway?”

“Technically? Your father’s patience is thinning. You’re not working and it’s a mess. I can’t push your inheritance any longer,” Yunho explained. “Personally? We genuinely missed you.”

But of course, Yeosang noticed your tremors. He finally spoke, voice quiet but steady, and somehow, it hit you harder. “It’s your bodyguard, isn’t it?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You could see the confusion on the other two’s faces, but you lied, anyway. “No. Life goes on, he’s doing well, and so am I.”

“Oh? Then look me in the eye and tell me it isn’t so. Take your sunglasses off.”

You froze, your hesitance prompting the three of them to exchange knowing looks. Yunho was the one who moved, snatching your glasses off your face. You tried to duck, but it was too late. Your swollen, red-rimmed eyes were exposed, the purple splotches and darkened eyebags told them everything that they needed to know.

Seonghwa’s eyes softened, his trembling fingers gently touching your cheeks. “Sunshine,” he whimpered, taken aback at how messed up you looked. “W-What did he do to you?”

The thread that was holding you together snapped. You tried to hold your tears in, but your lips were already wobbling before you could stop it. Without a word, Yeosang holds you closer, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder. It was a surprising scene - you were never one to cry. 

You told them everything as your tears soaked your brother’s shirt. You told them how you annoyed San to death and how much he ignored you. How he saved you from that mugger to him living with you. Your voice got a bit lighter when you told them how San taught you things, getting gloomy when you told them how much he held back with you. It was difficult, you’ve never really talked about San to other people.

“That’s it? He just quit?” Yeosang asked, his soothing hand rubbing your back in comfort. “I mean I was aware since Wooyoung told me, but I didn’t know he was acting odd around you beforehand. You don’t have to say anything if this is hard for you to talk about.”

You shook your head. “Y-You don’t get it,” your voice cracked, your fingers curling into Yeosang’s sleeve. “It’s only going to get harder from here, Yeo. Nothing will be alright anymore.“

The three of them went still, their expressions shifting into something more somber. Yunho’s voice came carefully, realisation washing over him. “You love him.”

Yeosang tightened his hold on you when you nodded. “With all my heart,” you whispered in anguish.. “He’s my one, I-I don’t know what to do with myself and all these feelings.”

Seonghwa hissed out a curse, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t understand. I thought San was a decent man. Last time I saw him when I signed that contract with you, his eyes never left you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you two already had something going on.”

Yunho’s face crumpled in confusion. “That’s the second time I’m hearing that name. What the hell is a San? Am I missing something?” Seonghwa was about to reply when Yeosang turned to the older man. “You call him San too? Ha, I haven’t even seen the guy after the interview,” he joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. He turns to you in question. “I’ve always wondered, why do you call him San?”

“Because that’s his name,” you simply said, not even having the energy to get mad. “What? Anything else you want to add?”

“I mean, he’s pretty damn elusive, that’s all. Your father’s literally been trying to reach him for months,” Yunho shrugged. “I’m just mainly confused where you got San from the name Jongho, that’s all. Is it a childhood nickname?”

A bomb goes off in your head. Your ears started to ring, your surroundings warping as you felt puzzle pieces move in your brain. “That’s what I said,” Yeosang scoffed. “I thought she had this odd kink with Jongho or something since she’s always called him San.”

All three of them stopped their chatter to look at you and how pale your face had become. “N-No,” you stammered. “San is my bodyguard, that is his name. Choi San. I mean, I’m sorry I’ve been skipping work, but isn’t this Jongho guy an employee or director at the company?”

Yeosang and Yunho whipped their heads at one another, their faces paling as the gears in their own heads started to shift. “Love. I want you to listen to me very, very carefully,” Yunho said slowly. “We don’t have a director named Choi Jongho.”

Your stomach dropped, a cold sweat breaking out at the back of your neck. “What?” The word barely left your lips. You shook your head furiously, your chest tightening with each word. “No, that’s not possible. You interviewed San, Yeosang, you said it yourself—”

“I interviewed Choi Jongho,” Yeosang interrupted, his voice grim. “Not Choi San.”

Yunho gritted his teeth, pulling his phone out. “We’re settling this right now,“ he snarled, putting his phone to his ear. “Wooyoung? Yeah, we’re almost done. Can you do me a favour? Y/N’s bodyguard. Send me a photo now.”

Not a minute later, Yunho’s phone vibrated. He taps his screen, turning the phone to Yeosang who just hums. “Yeah, that’s the guy I interviewed.”

However, when Seonghwa leaned forward to look, the blood in his face drained. His mouth fell open, his entire body going rigid. “That’s not your bodyguard,” he said hoarsely. “Holy fucking hell. That is not San.”

You snatched the phone so fast, you almost dropped it, because the man in the photo was, indeed, not San. Your San had sharper eyes, higher cheekbones and a small scar on his brow. What made it worse was that you have seen this man - you just didn’t know where yet. “We have to go,” Yeosang said hurriedly, pulling you by the arm to snap you out of your shock. “Right fucking now. We’ve been sitting out in the open. I’ll flag Wooyoung to the entrance.”

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. You tried to walk, but your knees gave out and Yunho barely caught you. You didn’t even register getting shoved in the backseat along with everyone. Who had you let into your home? Into your heart? Into your bed? Into your life?

Your vision swam. The memories pressed against you - his evasions, the way he always said less than he should, the way he looked at you like he was memorizing a lie he couldn’t keep straight. “T-That can’t be,” you still denied. that’s just not possible.”

“Hold on, now I’m confused,” Seonghwa said, lost. “Let me get this straight, whoever this San is was pretending to be your bodyguard all along? But why?”

The car went dead silent, but not for long. Yeosang curses out loud. “I don’t know,” he hissed. “However, all of our company problems started happening the moment he got hired. Fuck.” 

You wanted to protest, San would never do that, but you stopped yourself because you knew that there was no point in denying everything. Your chest caved in and for the first time, the puzzle pieces you had been avoiding slid together and the picture they formed made you sick.

“Forget that,” Seonghwa seethed in a rare show of discomposure. “The question is, where is the real Jongho?”

Yunho turns to you, desperation swimming in his eyes. “Think, Y/N, please. I know it’s hard, but we need to know if you can think of moments where you thought he was acting off.”

You were stupid. So, so stupid. The signs were all there and yet…were you that enamoured with San that you never noticed? Or was he that good at distracting you? Memories flooded your head one by one and through tears, you recounted them out loud.

“Well,” you began. “I’m about to make you feel even more special. I need a pen. Got documents to sign and some dude named Jongho to see.”It was when his eyes shifted towards the folder you were holding. His eyes focused so hard on the folder that you wouldn’t even be surprised if it suddenly caught on fire. But minutes passed, and he was still eyeing it. 

The moment you were done talking, everyone looked at each other. Even Wooyoung looked at the rear view mirror as he drove. It was clear - San knew what the folder held from the start. You wished it ended there. And now, you knew everything he did was to distract you from the truth.

A sigh leaves your lips as you try to rack up with more names. “Darn it, I can’t remember. Jongin? Ah, I think it’s Jongh—”

“Actually, I was thinking of going for a walk with you,” San said, cutting you off so casually that it made your brain stutter.

Yeosang rubbed your back, his eyes filled with sorrow, as more tears fell from your eyes. San never asked for walks, and you knew it. You thought he was warming up to you. But the reality was cruel. That walk was never about you - it was about distracting you from finding Jongho. “I tried to work, I really did,” you explained in haste, your voice starting to get hoarse. “B-But San…he was always there. I-I’m sorry, Yeo. I-I’m dumb and stupid—”

“No, you’re not,” Yeosang cut off sharply. “It’s not your fault. It’s his and his, alone.”

Your face burned in embarrassment as you put the plates in the sink. You dreaded work, but you’d do anything to get rid of this shame, even finally finding and talking to that Jongho guy your father has been looking for.

“Wait.”

Your heart stopped. Slowly, you turned around, only to see San cocking his head in the direction of where he was going - the kitchen. “You can work later,” he said. ”Follow me.” 

Somehow, this stung harder than you thought. He taught you how to make rice then, he saw the joy in your face every single time you succeeded and you swore you saw his eyes get more and more fond of you. You wanted to choke on your misery, was that a lie all along?

He dangled the keys in front of you like bait. “I’m going to teach you how to drive properly,” he murmured, walking back towards the door before tilting his head slightly. “Come on. You need a distraction.”

“It’s like you’re always distracting me when I have to work. Does my stone-cold bodyguard feel bad for me, after all?”

He scoffed, but for a second, something flickered in his gaze, something almost regretful. “Maybe,” was all he said before he walked out. You remembered that night vividly, the cold bite of the air. It was the first time San felt more than a bodyguard. San taught you how to drive, and while you thought you were falling in love, you also had no idea he was slowly driving you towards the trap he had laid carefully for you.

These were the things you recalled when you got to Hongjoong’s, your father’s assistant, office. The man was understandably horrified and quickly alerted security for an investigation. “Are there more things you could think about?” Hongjoong kindly asked you, giving you a glass of cold water to calm your nerves down. “Anything at all, sweetie. This man can’t be that good.”

But that was the problem; sitting in Hongjoong’s office made you realise that San had never slipped at all. You were the one who handed him everything he needed. All the signs, the cracks, and odd encounters - you ignored the truth laying underneath them.

“Who? San? My bodyguard,” you frowned, feeling slightly offended for San’s sake. “You know, the bodyguard Dad shoved down my throat repeatedly until I got sick of denying him and just let him have his way?”

“Huh,” Yeosang muttered, tilting his head like he was making a note to himself, not responding to you. “I didn’t know that’s what you called him.”

You grimaced, your hands tightening their hold on the glass. You should have known then, you should have seen it because one thing you also ignored was how every time Yeosang visited the penthouse, San always managed to be out on the same day without any fail. “Then, there was that time with Yunho,” you sniffled, the aforementioned taller man wrapping you in his arms for support. “That day I got mugged.”

“I’m fine, but more than that, the folder is safe. Unfortunately, I still have it with me.”

“You do? I thought I told you to give it to Jongho this morning for safekeeping?”

“I know. I didn’t have the opportunity to. It’s a good thing San was there when I got mugged.”“How?” He pressed on, puzzled. “Was he not with you?”

You scrunched your brows in perplexity. “How? I didn’t even reach the damn company,” you retorted back, annoyed that all Yunho thought was the folder

“Also, San? Who’s that?”

The memory sat like lead in your gut. You were such a fool, that was the second instance where someone questioned San’s name in the same context. How had you missed it? You gritted your teeth, anger slowly rising in your head. San played you like a fool and you were too blind to see.

“But why, though?” Yeosang questioned, his face grim and devoid of anything positive at the moment. “I don’t understand what the end goal is here, why would he do this? For what? What was he after?” “That’s what we’re here for,” Hongjoong sighed, stress and frustration clear on his face. “I need proof. We can’t keep guessing here. I need something that directly ties him to everything. Is there anything significant that happened while he was with you? Something huge?”

Silence. Everybody’s eyes were on you expectantly and you wanted to combust on the spot. Your chest felt heavy, your head hurting from how deep you tried to dig in your memory for something. And then it clicked like a sword lodging in your heart; sharp and devastating.

“Corporate espionage,” you choked, voice cracking as you spoke. Your eyes burned, shame and grief tightening your throat. “He was selling information to the Songs. T-There was a time where San taught me how to properly arrange my finances. I gave him the company’s budgetary plan as an example.”

“Fuck,” Yeosang swore viciously, making you flinch. “The Songs updated theirs the next day then stocks tanked. Joong, we have to go talk to Dad. Hwa’s family might be compromised…”

You barely heard Yeosang and Hongjoong leave the room and anything else for that matter. You wanted to claw your heart out, tear it from your chest. You were nothing but a pawn. To have loved San so much, only for the love you clung to might’ve not existed at all was unbearable.

“Hey,” Seonghwa called out, sharper than you’d ever heard him. He kneeled down, holding your face firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare make yourself believe your feelings weren’t real, you hear me? None of this was your fault. Absolutely nothing is.”

Yunho wiped the fresh set of tears streaming down your face. “Hwa’s right, love. You loved him and that was real. That was all you. He has taken enough and he doesn’t get to take this away.”

It’s been a month since that day and you were getting worse and worse the more days passed. You weren’t just dealing with the heartbreak of San’s absence, but you were also dealing with the shame and guilt that compromised your father’s company as a whole. This burned, because San knew what you felt about inheriting the company yet he still used you to basically spoon-feed information directly in the Songs’ mouths.

“Thanks for letting me crash here for a while, Yeo,” you said, slinging the bag that had your clothes on your shoulders. “I think I’ll go home for now. I'll text you when I get there.”

You didn’t want to be alone and when your brother offered to let you stay at his place just so you wouldn’t feel too lonely, you readily agreed. Yeosang gave you a sad smile, opting to give you a tight hug before you got in your car and drove away. 

You missed San terribly. You learned how to live without him, but the ache didn’t fade with time. And you hated  that you yearned for him even when he dismantled your world. He had been an integral part of your life and him getting cut out of the picture was still a bitter pill to swallow. The nights were the worst. You found yourself half-expecting to find him there, for his voice to lull you back to sleep. You reached for him more times than you could count, only to be reminded that he was gone, and that he’d never really been yours to begin with.

You genuinely loved him. You loved the man who tied your shoelaces, who danced with you in a parking lot. You closed the door behind after you entered, wishing it was your heart, dumping your bag on the floor without care. You didn’t know if any of it was real. The rarest smiles he gave you were a mask, every touch a strategy disguised as affection. And now, the house was empty, the only sounds filling it was a melodious tune being whistled in the kitchen.

You paused, freezing. Whistling? Someone was in your house at this very moment, and you knew it wasn’t San. San did not know how to whistle. You moved slowly, tiptoeing carefully towards the kitchen and with a deep breath, you peeked in the room.

Only to find absolutely nothing. You blinked, confused, walking in to inspect your completely empty kitchen. Were you hallucinating? Were you—

“Hi.”

The scream you let out could have shattered anyone’s ears. You turned around quickly, expecting to find a stranger- anyone, really - but what you were not expecting was to see a very familiar face. You’ve seen this man twice now; the latest was when Yunho showed you a picture of him on his phone, and the first time was when he tried to take your folder and mug you.

The shock on your face must have been comical because Jongho’s face contorted into one of amusement. “You,” you seethed in disbelief, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He grinned, leaning against your dining table like it was his. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Me.”

“How the hell did you get in my house?”

He laughed without humour. “Me getting in here is the least of your worries, Y/N.”

You scoffed in disbelief, feeling a little brave, maybe a little stupid. Even if you knew San would betray you, you’d still take him. San was also standoffish, but not to the extent this one was. You were glad Jongho wasn’t your bodyguard. “Go bitch off away from me before I call the cops.”

Jongho’s brows raised, a nasty smirk curling on his lips. “Women shouldn’t curse.”

“Get fucked,” you hissed, reeling yourself in before you blew a gasket. Jongho’s eyes widened slightly before laughing out loud. “I’m serious,” you said. “You do not want to mess with me.”

“Wrong. I’m not stuck with you, you’re stuck with us,” Jongho waved you off. When he said it, he pointed at the bedroom where San stayed and the door was ajar. You swallowed. “Right, someone else wants to have a word with ‘ya. I’m just followin’ orders from my boss.”

You whispered San's name. That earned you a sarcastic clap. “Well, hot diggity dog. He did say you were perceptive. No surprise he’s head over heels for ‘ya, talkin’ to you like this. You’re quite the charmer.”

“But why?” You blurted out, ignoring his sarcasm. “I-I don’t understand. You were supposed to be my bodyguard, weren’t you?”

“Wrong again. San would’ve still been your bodyguard. ’Ya just happened to pick me that day, but they would have found a way,” he said like it wasn’t such a big deal. “Not hard to pull a fast one, seein‘ as we’ve got the same last name.”

Your chest tightened, but you still had more questions. “You were that mugger that day, weren’t you? What was the end goal here? Why did you do that?”

Jongho’s eyes hardened alarmingly. “Don’t ‘ya get it? My goal was to never mug ’ya that day. It was just a means to an end. C’mon, rub those brain cells together now, sweetheart…”

At first you still didn’t get it, but when you did, you reeled back, the air knocked out of your lungs. “I was the goal,” you choked out. “Moving in to watch me. That was the goal.”

“Ding ding ding,” Jongho sing-songed, smirking like a cat with a rat. “Funny thing is, we launched a product the next day, similar to Kang Yeosang’s. Bit strange, innit?”

You couldn’t breathe, because you already knew. You remembered oversleeping that day, the mugging taking a toll on you. While you slept, San went through the folder and gave Yeosang’s draft to the Songs. Your world spun, and you gripped the chair in front of you. Fuck, fuck—

“Choi Jongho. Quit dilly-dallying around. I need to talk to her.”

Both your heads turned in the direction of the bedroom. Jongho visibly straightens, but he hides it with a smirk and a mocking bow to you. “Right. Well, off ‘ya go. Be good now, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have the energy to glare at him as you forced yourself to walk in the bedroom. When you pushed the door open, there was a man sitting on the edge of the bed, his back towards you. He didn’t even flinch when you entered. “This place is too quiet,” he spoke lightly, his voice surprisingly rough and deep. “I bet he loved it. This is practically paradise for him.”

Slowly, he turned. He was good-looking, his face sharp with edges in all the right places. And he was holding San’s journal in his hand. “Don’t touch that,” you snapped, heat in your voice despite the circumstances. “Do you even know what and whose that is? ”

His lips quirked up into a small smile. “Sannie,” he said, tapping the journal with his finger. “Especially considering my brother almost begged me to give this to you.”

Brother. You did remember San mentioning a brother once. They didn’t look alike, not even a bit. This man was taller, but San was broader. But his eyes. They were the exact same shape and held the same conviction. It was like San was staring at you from another man’s eyes.

“So,” he hummed, studying you with cool curiosity. “You’re the girl my brother risked everything for. It’s cliché, isn’t it? Two rivals from different companies falling for each other.”

You faltered, lips parting but no words came out. Just when you thought that things couldn’t get more complicated, the heir of the Songs was right here in the flesh, standing before you with the notion of wanting to speak with you. In no universe did you ever imagine that the brother San refused to talk about would be the Song Mingi.

“I owe you an apology,” Mingi said sincerely. He wasn’t smug, not anything like the rival you’d been conditioned to expect. In fact, he sounded nice. “For breaking in like this. I had no choice. I really needed to talk to you, and it was safer this way. We can’t be seen in public together.”

You gritted your teeth. He was the enemy. “What do you want?” You asked, tone clipped. “What would prompt someone like you to be here? Wasn’t milking my company enough for you?”

Mingi flinched, shoulders sagging in defeat. You ignored the dark lines under his eyes probably caused by stress. “I’ll cut to the chase,” he began. “I hate the way my family plays dirty. As you know, I will inherit the company soon, and I want to make changes even sooner.”

You laughed, hollow and full of restrained anger. “Are you joking with me? You think I’ll believe you after everything? Your brother,” you paused, voice cracking. “San broke my trust. He broke my heart. None of what you say will have any merit, Song.”

That hit him. His eyes softened with a mix of something raw, pained, and shame into one. “For the record,” he said quietly. “San never wanted this. My brother has a pure heart. He always has. It’s his best trait and his worst downfall. And please, just Mingi would do.”

You wanted to argue, to spit out your anger, even with the sincerity in his tone, but he raised his hands in surrender. “Please, just hear me out for a second,” he pleaded in desperation. Your traitorous heart wanted to know more about San. You let him talk. “San’s my older half-brother. Our mum…she loved his dad, but she was forced to marry mine for power. ”

Mingi paused to see if you were listening. “Sannie was shunned and ridiculed by the family, treated like he didn’t exist all because of his father. He lived most of his life in Namhae, but we were very close. San,” Mingi swallowed, guilt laced in his eyes. “He never held a grudge. He loved life, but he craved affection. He craved to belong somewhere.”

Your chest ached, memories of the sadness in San’s eyes when you asked him basic questions that night haunting you. “It’s my fault,” he hissed, closing his eyes. “I told him to come here. That maybe bygones were bygones and the family might have forgotten. But I was dead wrong.”

“All San wanted was to spend time with our mum. So my father,” his jaw hardened. “He gave San a…test. To prove his worth. To play your bodyguard to get inside information. It’s cruel. Jongho and I wanted to stop him, but there’s only so much I can do under that roof.”

You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to feel it. But the shards of San’s backstory embedded themselves under your skin, and it hurt more because of how much you loved him. “Why are you telling me this?” You fumed, fists turning white in sheer madness.

“I’m not doing this to erase what happened. I just want you to know that what you had with my brother was real. Please, you have to believe me,” he pressed, more desperate. “Every time he reported back and mentioned you, I’ve never seen him that happy. He wanted to stop midway, but my father’s a bastard. I know this isn’t an excuse, and I’m truly, utterly sorry. I really am.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. “When he did put a stop to it,” his voice cracked faintly. “He gave up everything. Family, status, all of it just so he could finally stop lying to you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning, but your anger wouldn’t loosen its grip. “What do you want from me, then? What’s this really about?”

Mingi exhaled slowly. “I want to undo the damage my family’s company has done to yours.”

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to you. You flipped it open and scanned it. Detailed exposés, records, evidence that could change everything. “Oh my God, ” you whispered. “Why would you give me this?”

Mingi’s expression shifted into something softer, almost mournful. “San gathered them before he left. If I release this, it would ostracize him from our family completely. He might even get exiled. He knew this, and still,” his gaze fell briefly to the journal in his hand. “He chose you.”

“I’m going to do right by you,” he suddenly said, voice rugged and scratchy from prolonged sobs. “I’m going to set things straight. You believe me, right? ”

“What’s the catch?” You asked, voice breaking, your heart squeezing painfully. 

“Just one. A partnership between the Kangs and the Songs with most shares being yours. I'm sick of this meaningless rivalry and I’m even sicker of my father ruining the legacy my grandfather built from the ground up. And off the record? From everything San’s told me, I think you’d make a damn good CEO. It would be a great honour to work alongside you, Y/N.”

You gripped the envelope in your hands, hesitation still clear in your eyes. “I’ll think about it,” you whispered. “I hope you understand how big this is, Mingi. What’s in it for me?”

“I can tell you where San is.”

You froze, your whole body wanting to shut down with the information. He set San’s journal in your hands along with his card. “Call me when you’ve decided. San really loved you. Still does,” he said before leaving your house with Jongho.

You stared at the journal, not really knowing what to do but open it. You were met with random scribbles of his thoughts. All of them were about you. Your heart sped up, so did your fingers as you turned page after page, finding out that all he did was write about you in his free time. You wanted to believe that all these words were more than letters to you, but each of them screamed at you. And then, at the back, a letter. Written carefully, with deliberate strokes, as though he knew this would be his only chance to say what he couldn’t say for months.

I love you. I love you so deeply you have no idea how much and you will never know even if you tried. I wish I could have one extra day with you, just one more day, but I can’t. I wasn’t supposed to love you, but I couldn't help it.

I knew you before the world did. You’ll remember me after it forgets. Take care, Y/N.

San.

The words blurred as soon as you stopped reading, tears spilling fast and unstoppable. For the first time since he’d gone, you didn’t just cry; you shattered completely.

After much deliberation and consultation from your father - who was more sorry for your situation rather than disappointed and angry - you called Mingi the day after. You made a bold decision of asking him to meet at a public cafe, one he readily agreed to. 

By the next morning, the tabloids screamed headlines of the elusive Kang heiress finally stepping into the spotlight - with the one and only Song Mingi, no less, who you soon realize was a sweetheart. He had no problems coming whenever you called him, even though it put him at odds with his own family, and even apologized to your father in person.

The aftermath of it all was messy. It took every ounce of grit from Yeosang, Yunho, and Seonghwa’s family, and Mingi to stitch it back together. Even Jongho - who was actually from a prominent family, himself - begrudgingly agreed to help. Mostly to mess with you. When news of the merge broke, it was strangely well received.  With the exposé out in the open, Mingi slipped seamlessly into the CEO chair of his own company, effectively ending the terror his father had inflicted on every other company out there. With your companies combining, you were unstoppable and finally, everything was over.

You watched your father carefully fix the plaque that said CEO on the desk, smile wistful, eyes lined with sorrow like your own. “I’m proud of you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m very proud of the person you’ve become. Your mother would have been, too.”

You swivelled your head on the portrait that held your entire family. Your mother was still young and bright, ready to take the world into the palm of her hands. “I wish she were here,” you whispered. “She would have been scandalised if she found out we merged with the Songs.” 

Your father laughed heartily, before his eyes drooped somber once more. “Maybe I wanted you to take on the position because you looked so much like her,” he said. “It made me feel like she was here again. I’m sorry I pushed you so much.”

“I understand. However,” you paused, putting your hand on your brother’s shoulder, squeezing it for support. “Someone’s better suited in this position than me, Dad. You and I both know it.”

Being CEO was a good look on Yeosang. It was a role that was waiting for him all his life. He caught your gaze, eyes softening. “I wouldn’t have been here without you,” Yeosang said quietly. “Your quiet support was enough, and I learned strength from you. But,” he held your hand and squeezed. “I just wish you were happy.”

You faltered, trying to take pride in the praise, but you felt hollow, and both Yeosang and your father could see right through your facade. Because somewhere out there was the man you loved - the man who broke you - and still, you missed him as fiercely as the day he left.

You’ve never been to Namhae before, but you should have a long time ago. The place feels like a world apart from the city’s hustle as you walk along the narrow streets of the town. It was smaller than you thought, but it was bustling with life. The scent of fish cakes lingered in the air, overpowering all the other varieties of food surrounding the small stall situated in the corner. Your breath hitches. You knew he’d be here, but still, your heart wasn’t ready now that he was only a couple of metres away from you.

San working a humble job, trying to live anonymously, was something you never thought you’d ever see, and at first, you didn’t recognize him. He was busy handing an elderly lady a cupful of fish cakes and tteokbokki, the smile that had his dimples popping up that you fell in love with now out as if it’s always been natural to him. This San did not belong in your memory.

And yet, there he was -  not in a suit, but in a plain shirt and jeans. His eyes were still as piercing as ever, though now there was something softer about them and something more lost. The hardness that once defined him was gone, his face no longer cold and stoic but calm and serene that suggested contentment and peace.

You froze where you stood, not knowing whether you should cry or not. It’s been three months since you last saw him and you thought the amount of preparation you did would ease all the emotions you’ve been holding back, but no. You were still heartbroken, but God, the love you felt for him never lessened. If anything, it just intensified tenfold.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, willing your voice not to break, when you stepped in front of the stall while his back was turned from you. “Can I have a stick of tteokbokki, please?”

“Of course, give me one second, please,” he said with the same smile, not looking at you as he set up his work station. “Did you say—”

The world outside of that stall fell away the moment his gaze met yours. San’s smile dropped slightly, and there it was; the unmistakable recognition behind his eyes layered with guilt, remorse, and shame. But at the same time, the way his eyes softened told you clear as day that there was still that undeniable love he reserved only for you somewhere. He straightened his spine, though the way he gripped the counter that had his knuckles turning white betrayed him. “Tteokbokki, yes? What else can I get you?”

Your lips twitched, a smile threatening to come out of it. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “What would you recommend?”

You took one step, leaning a bit closer than normal towards the stall. He doesn’t react at first, expression as composed as ever. “Everything here is good,” he murmured, audibly swallowing before he started to move. “My father has a good supplier so the fish are fresh—ah, shit.”

He tried to grab a ladle, but fumbled when he accidentally dropped it, making it clatter against a pot and producing a loud twang that caught the attention of other people. “Yeah. Fish. Fresh. Delicious. Very popular,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

You pursed your lips, taking a few very deep breaths to cover up the loud laugh you wanted to let out. “I see,” you hummed, nodding a few times as if taking his statement seriously. “Not that I don’t believe you, but are you sure you’re not just saying that because you think I’ll like them?”

“You’ve always liked them,” he said as soon as you finished talking, faster than he’d like to admit. Your eyes widen a bit, and San freezes as if he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. “I mean everybody likes them…yeah.”

You gave him a smile, a genuine one; one you couldn’t help but let out anyway. His breath hitches, pressing a hand against his temple like you’d just short-circuited him, as he gripped the ladle so tightly, the muscles in his arms flexed. You’re surprised the ladle hasn’t bent yet.

“So, you remember,” you said, your smile widening enough for your eyes to smile with you.

And San notices. He stares at you for a beat too long, lost in a world in his head only known to no one but him. You saw something flash on his face. It might have been fondness, you weren’t sure. “Do you want the fish cakes or not?” He asked, voice low and controlled.

“I do,” you bit your lip, deliberately looking at him up and down, making sure he saw it. “I also want something else.”

He knocked over a tray this time, and you saw him squeeze his eyes shut in frustration before forcing a polite smile. “You’re,” he exhaled sharply, opening his mouth and closing it over and over again. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

“And yet,” you leaned just a little closer, lowering your voice. “You’ve missed this.”

He didn’t say anything, just silently staring at you. That stare used to feel empty and hollow whenever it landed on you, but now, it was placating, filled with warmth he could never hide and the love he still carried no matter how hard he tried to bury or hide it from you.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You haven’t changed, still playing games with me and trying to win,” San said quietly, the faintest curve tugging at his lips. His eyes softened, tone going even softer, thick with truth. “But you don’t need to. You’ve already won.”

Hearing him say that was like the air being punched out of your lungs and stitched back together all at once. This time, it was your turn to get speechless. San took his apron off, setting it down the counter before looking behind him. There was a man there who you didn’t even notice and it doesn’t take long for you to realise who it was.

His father. He seemed to have a silent conversation with San through their eyes. Eventually, he simply lifted a hand and waved him off like he already knew. “Come with me,” San murmured when he glanced back at you, almost a command, but gentler than you’d ever heard from him. It was how you found yourself sitting with San by the water, sitting by the edge of the docks as you let the docile waters kiss your feet.  He didn’t touch you, didn’t say anything. But his presence felt like the closest thing to home you’d had since he left. For a long moment, neither of you moved. The silence between you wasn’t empty, but rather, heavy and filled with all the things neither of you talked about for months.

San still captivated you, though it wasn’t the same as back then where you were attracted to  how cold he was. The weight of everything he carried made him even more mesmerising and you couldn’t help but think that this life he chose, far from the politics and scheming lies of it all, was one he wanted all along before he traveled to the city.

All the weight on your shoulders lifted and maybe this was the closure you needed. Maybe this could be what you both needed to accept that some things cannot be fixed, and maybe that was alright.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” San swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the side to meet your somber ones. “I didn’t want to be the reason for your heartache.”

You smiled albeit melancholic. “You weren’t the only reason, though. One way or another, I was bound to get hurt because of who I was. It was never about you. Not entirely, anyway.”

His jaw tightened, as if the words had cut deeper than he was willing to admit. You swirled your feet in the water, playing with it, altering the flow like you were with your life. “I’ve changed a lot, I think,” you giggled, your smile widening a bit. “I’m no longer trapped in my responsibilities and in my shallow thoughts. I think I’m on my way to leading my own life.”

He stares, lifts up his hand hesitantly. It momentarily freezes in the air before he tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ears. It was a gesture so simple and familiar that it made your lips quiver, not expecting the vulnerability in the moment. “Life is unpredictable. You did good,” he said with a wry smile. “I saw the news. Your brother’s a fine CEO.”

Your eyes lingered on him, memorizing him all over again. “It’s interesting,” you started. “The ache of what you did is still here. Yet, I find myself craving it if it means being with you.”

There was a quiet desperation in his gaze, as if he wanted to believe your words. The storm in his eyes held regret, longing, and amidst all the haze, something softer. “You were the last person I ever wanted to hurt,” he whispered, rough. “But I did. I can’t apologise enough because that life…what I did, I chose to do it. After everything, this is all I could do.”

“I should’ve seen it back then, though,” you said, chest aching, threatening to cave in. “Not that I’m absolving you of every fault. You were right about one thing, however.”

He stays silent, waiting for you to continue. “What you were doing…it should have never gone that far,” you said with a bittersweet smile. “I knew that, but I couldn’t let you stop. In hindsight, I turned a blind eye because I already loved you too much.”

Multiple emotions flashed across San’s face all at once, the most prominent ones being surprise and relief. You never had the opportunity back then to tell him how you really felt, never even thought you’d ever have the courage to, but here you were, baring your feelings for him out in the open. “I loved you, too. More than you ever knew,” he paused, his lips twitching into a smile so sullen, it burned you. “But you fell for the shadow of who I am. Parts of me that were never mine.”

He craned his head in the direction of the sky with his eyes closed as if murmuring a silent prayer for more strength. “I hurt you, Y/N,” he whispered, broken and unbound. “I didn’t even think you’d ever want to see me again. I never stopped caring about you, never stopped thinking about you even after I left my heart in your house.”

“I know. I see that now,” you said softly. “We can’t erase what happened, but back then, I think I just wanted you to want me the same way I wanted you,” you paused, looking at the horizon. “But you. You could have left sooner. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted to be near you even if it meant lying to you,” he admitted.

The confession left you breathless. “You could have told me your family situation and we would have worked something out,” you pressed, voice cracking under the weight of his revelation.

“If you’re here, that means Mingi told you where I am. That also means he told you everything,” San exhaled a breath you didn’t realise he was holding. “Knowing what you know now about my family, did you want me dead or alive to live a lie?” 

You froze. That got you. The answer, as difficult as it is, forms in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “I do know I didn’t want you to be the death of me. I just want you. All of you.”

San’s lips part, a breath of pain escaping him. “You loved me for all the wrong reasons.”

You closed the distance between you, making the bold decision of putting your hand on top of his. “I did,” you said. “But I won’t let you make me out to be the one who’s in the wrong as if loving you isn’t right. I don’t regret it, San. I still don’t. Never will.”

His hand trembled under your hold. Under the soft dusk of what’s left of the sun in the horizon, a tear fell from San’s eye. “Even if I find myself loving you and knowing that I can never give you what you deserve? I want to forfeit, bunny. The shame is too much for me to take.”

You dared to reach for his face this time. His skin was warm and wet, his tear-streaked cheeks wet under your touch. His eyes pleaded for understanding, for forgiveness, even as he couldn't seem to forgive himself. “We can count it all as lost, Sannie,” you said, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “There’s so much more for us if we do.”

He was tense, but you could feel the yearning beneath it, the one you never truly acknowledged from him. “No,” he denied. “Even with all the things that happened, I won’t take anything back. If I could turn the time back, I’d hurt you less, but I won’t change the outcome because I wouldn’t love you as much as I do now. I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I still don’t.”

You leaned your forehead on his, eyes focused on his glistening ones. “But you do,” you whispered. “You loved me in the only way you knew how. And that’s why I’m here.” And when you pulled away, for the first time since you saw him again, his mask fell off. He whispered your name like it was the only thing worth saying and you knew then that while you haven’t forgiven him as a whole, you were ready to let him in again.

And in the devastation of it all, you felt San’s hand at the back of your neck, tilting his head to brush his lips against yours with the gentlest of kisses. You barely felt it, a ghost and whisper on your lips, but the simplicity of it all was hitting you harder than you expected. It was quick, but it was enough for you to tremble against his hold. “For the longest time, I never understood you,” you mumbled. “I thought I had to be a part of your world to love you. I wasn’t, but I did anyway.”

San looked at you for the longest time. “You are my world,” was all he said when he spoke.

You laughed, wild and free for all the times you’ve held back. You laughed so loud that the seagulls hanging around the docks scattered about. And San, he was smiling. It wasn't a polite, close-mouthed one, but rather, one that showed his teeth, made his eyes crinkle, and plumped his cheeks up. And that, that was the most freeing sight of them all. "I want all of you, San,” you said. “Even the parts you think I’m not ready for, but I can’t fix this for you. You have to want it, too."

You got up slowly, water trickling down your feet. San’s gaze followed you immediately, the ache evident on his face. His head tilted back as he looked up at you, eyes heavy with longing, as if the simple act of you standing meant you were already pulling away from him again. His eyes were still following you as you slipped your shoes on, rummaging through your purse for something in particular.

“I didn’t come here just to see you,” you mumbled, setting a small piece of paper on your palm to use as a hard surface so you could write on it. “Like I said, I’m ready to lead my life now. Since Sangie’s CEO now, that means I can finally fulfill my wanderlust and my desire to travel.”

You held the paper that held your phone number and hotel information while you stayed in Namhae in front of San. “I need someone I trust to come along with me in my journey to find myself. I wouldn’t mind having a protector, someone who can shield me from my worries and ease my burdens. So, uh, yeah...call me if you’re interested, San.”

San’s lips parted, and he didn’t move. He just stared at what you offered him like it was something too precious, his throat visibly tightening. He took the paper, your fingers brushing against his briefly and in that moment, it was pretty clear that you weren’t offering it because you needed a bodyguard - you were offering him to stand with you as equals. “I don’t know what to say,” San whispered so softly, you almost didn’t hear him. 

You nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears. All you could do was give him one last, lingering look. “I’ll wait for your answer,” you said, turning around to walk back where you came from. It was hard to walk away, but you had to. And you weren’t going to look back until you heard it - the distinct sound of paper being crumpled from behind you. A moment later, the balled-up paper was thrown in front of your feet. Your heart shattered then and there, for this rejection felt heavier than the prior months you’ve spent with him.

Before you could pick it up, you felt your shoulders being pulled backwards, and the next thing you knew, San’s strong arms were wrapped around you. San’s chest pressed so firmly to your back it felt like he was trying to merge with you. His grip was so tight, you couldn’t breathe.

“I missed you,” he whispered, the rough edges of his voice muffled by your hair. “I fucking missed you. If I didn’t die back then from all the guilt, seeing you walk away from me might just do the trick. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to let you go. Not anymore.”

“Sannie,” you let out, startled at the sudden embrace. You turned around slowly, meeting his eyes, your heart getting caught in your throat because this was the closest you’ve been ever since that night. “I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

The last of his hesitation crumbled. For a moment, it almost broke you to see him undone, stripped of the masks and walls he always hid behind and he pulled you in for another bone-crushing hug. You froze before relaxing, letting go of everything in this one embrace. The distance, betrayal, lies - all of them, gone. 

“Take me with you,” he said. “I want to be with you in every way possible, if you let me.”

“San,” your heart pounded so loud you almost couldn’t hear yourself speak. “Y-You mean it?”

He nodded once, almost violently. He pulled away, and for the first time, there was a flicker of hope in those beautiful eyes of his.. “I don’t care where, I don’t care how. I just…i-if it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere. Take me now, Y/N.”

Your tears spilled freely now, not just from the ache, but from the weight of finally hearing what you’d always wanted and never thought you’d get with him. “I will,” you whispered, leaning onto his touch, shaking. “God, San, I will.”

"I don’t know if I can be what you need," he began, his lips curving up with that newfound spark of hope.. "But I’ll try. I’ll try, for you. I’ll do anything for you."

You let out a giggle as you wiped your tears away. “So what now? Where do we go from here?”

San tilted his head, grinning. “I know a good diner that serves the best kimchi, if you’d like.”

You hummed, pretending to think. “Or,” you began seductively, just like the old times. “We could skip dinner and go straight to dessert. My hotel room has a mirror on the ceiling.” He scoffed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You are unbearable, I swear. But, God, I missed how annoying you were,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours as you started to walk. “We can start your grand journey with a full stomach first, bunny.”

You laughed, walking with him away from the dock. Red was the color of love, the hue of a newly blossoming rosebud, much like the tender beginnings between you and San. It was the glow of the setting sun, casting its warmth over the two of you as you walked towards the future.

The night had started out innocent enough—at least, as innocent as things ever got between the three of you.

You were wedged between them on the couch, Yunho on your left, Mingi on your right, warmth seeping from their bodies into yours. A movie was playing, but none of you were watching. Not with the way their hands had started to wander.

Yunho’s fingers were tracing slow, absentminded circles on your thigh, just barely under the hem of your shorts. Mingi was less subtle, his palm resting on your hip, fingers occasionally squeezing as if reminding you of his presence. You could feel the tension crackling in the air, thick with anticipation. It was always like this with them—slow, drawn-out teasing before one of you finally snapped.

But tonight? Tonight, you were feeling bold.

You shifted, letting your hand drift casually onto Yunho’s lap. His thigh tensed beneath your palm, and you smirked to yourself. Without hesitation, you let your other hand move to Mingi, your fingers pressing lightly against his inner thigh. The way he stiffened under your touch made a spark of satisfaction flicker through you.

"Mm," you hummed, nails lightly scraping over Yunho’s clothed thigh before giving Mingi the same treatment. "I don’t think you guys understand just how well I know you."

Yunho exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around your leg. "Oh?"

Mingi raised a brow, his hand pressing more firmly against your hip. "Is that so?"

You bit back a smirk, fingers inching higher on both of them. "Mhm. I know you both so well… I could probably tell who’s fucking me with my eyes closed."

Silence.

Then Yunho laughed, the sound dark and low. "Oh, really?"

Mingi scoffed, tilting his head. "That’s a bold claim, sweetheart."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you lightly squeezed their thighs. "It’s not a claim, it’s a fact." You leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something more sultry. "I’ve been fucked by you two enough times to know the difference."

That got their attention.

Mingi’s grip on your hip turned bruising, his fingers digging into your flesh. Yunho’s hand slid further up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your shorts higher. They shared a look above your head, something dark and knowing, before Yunho turned back to you, his smile slow and dangerous.

"You sure about that?"

Your smirk widened. "Positive."

Mingi hummed, his fingers trailing up your arm. "That so?"

Yunho exhaled, amusement laced with something far more sinister. "Then we should test that."

You blinked, the weight of their words settling in. "Test—?"

Mingi’s lips brushed against your ear. "If you’re so confident, baby, let’s see you prove it." Yunho’s other hand came up, fingers gently tracing your jaw. “Let's… blindfold you.”

Your breath caught, but neither of them gave you a chance to react.

"Then we’ll take turns fucking you," Mingi continued, his voice dropping lower. "And you’re gonna guess who’s inside you."

Yunho’s lips curled into a smirk. "And only when you get it right will we let you cum."

Your stomach clenched, heat pooling low in your belly.

Mingi chuckled at your silence, his palm sliding down to squeeze your thigh. "Oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart?"

Yunho tilted his head. "You were so confident just a second ago."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Mingi and Yunho didn’t stop smirking at you, their amusement growing as Yunho leaned closer. Before you had a chance to react, his hand slipped down your body, moving with a slow confidence that made you shiver.

"Jesus, you’re already so wet…" Yunho’s fingers slid past the waistband of your panties, the soft fabric brushing your sensitive skin before diving straight between your folds. He barely gave you a chance to adjust, slipping two fingers in slowly, stretching you open just enough for him to feel your heat.

You gasped, your body tightening at the sudden intrusion. "What’s the matter, baby?" Yunho’s voice was low, almost smug, as he dragged his fingers deeper, forcing you to grind down onto his hand. "Did you think you could just tease us and get away with it?"

Yunho’s thumb moved up to circle your clit, pressing firmly and teasingly as he kept his fingers deep inside you. "So, you were saying," he purred, his gaze flicking to Mingi, then back to you. "You think you can tell who’s fucking you, huh?"

You couldn’t stop yourself from whining, the pressure building in your core. You blinked up at Yunho, trying to focus, but your head was spinning. "I-I’m sure…"

"Sure about what?" Yunho taunted, curling his fingers inside you to make you jerk against his hand. "That you’ll know exactly who’s who by our cocks?" He added, his voice turning darker, rougher. "We’ll see about that."

Mingi chuckled, the sound deep and amused. "She thinks she knows? Interesting." he said as his hand slipped beneath your shirt, cupping your breasts.

Yunho started pumping his fingers in and out, each stroke rough and punishing as he continued to work you open. "You think you can guess?" he growled, his lips curling into a twisted grin. "Because if you’re wrong… we won’t let you cum.."

You moaned softly, squeezing your eyes shut, your hips moving of their own accord. "I’ll guess," you said, breathless. "I can tell."

Mingi moved closer, dragging a finger lightly down your jaw, tilting your face so that you had to look at him. "Tell us, then," he purred, the challenge clear in his voice. "Tell us how badly you want us."

Yunho’s fingers slid in deeper, harder, his thumb circling your clit in rhythmic, relentless movements. "Tell us, sweetheart," he grunted. "Who’s got you this wet, hm?”

Your answer was nothing but a soft gasp, your body moving involuntarily as Yunho fucked his fingers into you, curling them at just the right angle.

"You don’t even know, do you?" Yunho hissed, suddenly pulling his fingers out of you, leaving you wanting more. “Such a little slut… Guess you’ll have to find out the hard way."

Mingi’s eager hands gripped your waist as he effortlessly lifted you off the ground, spinning you around and throwing you onto the bed with a slight chuckle. Your breath caught as you bounced on the mattress, heart racing in anticipation of what was to come. He towered over you in an instant, a hunger in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ready to play, sweetheart?" he growled, a wicked grin curving his lips.

Before you could respond, Mingi reached over to the nightstand, his movements swift and practiced, pulling a black silk blindfold from the drawer. He was already stripping it open, his eyes never leaving yours as he tied it around your head, blocking out all sight and plunging you into complete darkness.

A soft, teasing chuckle escaped Yunho’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look at you, Mingi," he teased, "as eager as she is. I guess she’s rubbing off on you."

Mingi shot Yunho a playful, half-resentful glare before positioning himself on the bed. "I can’t help it," he muttered, hovering over you as his hands roamed your body. "She’s so fucking irresistible."

You could feel the heat of Mingi’s body hovering just above yours, his breath tickling your skin as Yunho slowly walked closer, smirking at the scene unfolding. Mingi slid his hands to your hips, pinning you down, his fingers digging into the soft skin. "Don’t worry," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, "we’ll get this game started real soon."

Yunho chuckled again, shaking his head, but the amusement in his gaze was unmistakable. "You think she’s ready for what we’re about to do?" he teased Mingi, his voice soft but dripping with intent.

Mingi smirked, his hands gently trailing up your thighs before resting on your hips. "Oh, she’s ready. Isn’t that right, baby?" he whispered, before planting a gentle kiss against your neck, moving slowly, deliberately.

You shivered, nodding your head even though you couldn’t see them, feeling your pulse quicken as the tension between you three thickened. The anticipation, the waiting, was almost too much to bear. But then, Mingi’s fingers traced over your body, touching you everywhere, making you ache for more.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he teased, voice dipping low. "You ready to play along? Guess who’s fucking you?"

You swallowed thickly, already trembling under the touch of their hands, knowing the game had just begun.

The rustling of clothes fills the room, each piece hitting the floor with a soft thud. Even blindfolded, you can hear them, sense the way they move around you like predators circling prey. Then, Yunho’s hands are on you—strong, demanding.

"Up." His tone leaves no room for hesitation. He manhandles you with ease, lifting you into his lap as he leans back against the headboard. Your back presses against his firm chest, his legs spread wide beneath you, forcing yours open. His hands grip your thighs, keeping them in place. Trapped.

"There we go, baby," he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. "Right where we want you."

Then there’s Mingi.

Settling between your legs, he lets out a low groan at the sight of your soaked panties. He presses two fingers against the damp fabric, dragging them up your slit slowly, teasingly.

"Look at this mess, Yunho." His voice is thick with mockery. "She’s already dripping onto your thighs."

Yunho chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. His hands move up, palms grazing your stomach before sliding to your chest. He cups your breasts, thumbs flicking over your already sensitive nipples.

"Of course she is," he muses, rolling one nipple between his fingers, tugging just enough to make you whimper. "She loves being used."

Before you can protest—not that you’d ever dare—Mingi hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down your thighs. The cool air barely has a chance to touch your soaked core before he pushes two fingers inside you, knuckles deep without warning.

A gasp rips from your throat, your body jerking, but Yunho tightens his hold, keeping you locked against him.

"Tsk, tsk," Mingi murmurs, curling his fingers inside you. "So fucking tight, and we haven’t even started."

"She can take more," Yunho says smoothly, his free hand sliding down your stomach. Before you can even process it, his fingers press against your entrance, slipping inside beside Mingi’s.

Your body tenses—overwhelmed, stretched, full—but neither of them give you a moment to adjust. They move in tandem, pushing deeper, working you open with no patience, no mercy. Your moans come in breathless little sobs, hips twitching between them.

"That’s it," Mingi coos mockingly, his thumb rubbing slow, taunting circles over your clit. "Take it like the desperate little thing you are."

Yunho’s lips graze your ear, his voice dangerously soft. "Who’s gonna break you first, baby?"

Mingi smirks, watching your body tremble.

"Doesn’t matter." His fingers pump harder, faster, sending shockwaves through you. "She’s gonna take us both anyway."

Yunho’s fingers keep working inside you, matching Mingi’s pace, stretching you open without an ounce of patience. The two of them are relentless, their movements synced—one thrusting deep, the other pressing against that sweet spot inside you that has your legs trembling.

Your moans are ragged, breath hitching every time their fingers push deeper. Mingi’s thumb flicks over your clit, teasing, taunting.

"She’s getting close," he murmurs, watching the way your body reacts. "Think we should let her cum?"

Yunho only smirks, locking eyes with him. A silent message passes between them.

Who’s taking her first?

Mingi tilts his head, considering. Then, he chuckles darkly. "Go ahead.” he signals.

The second the decision is made, they pull their fingers out at the same time. The sudden emptiness makes you whimper, thighs twitching as your walls clench around nothing. But before you can even process the loss, Yunho is already moving.

He grips your waist, lifting you with ease before placing you on the bed, your body sinking into the mattress. Both men hover over you, their eyes dark, predatory.

"Fuck, look at her," Mingi murmurs, raking his gaze down your body. "Completely ruined, and we haven’t even started."

Your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, the blindfold still robbing you of sight. But you can feel their eyes on you—devouring, consuming. The way they hover, the heat radiating off their bare skin, the way Yunho’s weight dips the bed as he moves between your legs.

Then, a soft metallic clink.

One. Then another.

They’re taking off their rings.

Your lips part, realization hitting you hard. They’re making it impossible for you to tell who’s inside you.

"That's fucking mean," you whisper, barely audible.

Mingi clicks his tongue, fingers tracing over your trembling thighs. "Aw, baby, you look so nervous." His voice is laced with amusement, but there’s nothing comforting about it. "What’s wrong? Can’t tell who’s about to ruin you?"

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but then one of them moves between your legs.

No warning. No words.

Just the thick, aching heat of a cock dragging through your soaked folds, teasing, testing.

And then—he thrusts in.

Your body shatters around the stretch, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as he sinks in deep. No patience, no hesitation—just one smooth, brutal thrust until he’s buried to the hilt, your walls tightening around him as you struggle to adjust.

He doesn’t make a sound.

No moans, no teasing, not even a sharp inhale. Just the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the heavy grip on your thighs keeping you spread wide.

Your lips part, breathless and dazed. "M-Mingi?"

A dark chuckle comes from beside you, but the man inside you? Silent.

Mingi’s fingers brush your jaw, tilting your head towards him. "Is that your guess?" His tone is smug, knowing. "Are you sure?"

Your mind is foggy, thoughts scrambled from the way he’s filling you—slow at first, dragging back just enough to make you feel every inch before slamming back in. Your breath hitches, nails digging into the sheets.

It has to be Mingi. Right? The way he’s holding you down, the way he—

Your thoughts disintegrate when he moves.

The next thrust is ruthless. Deep. Precise. The kind of stroke that knocks the air from your lungs, that makes your back arch off the bed as a cry rips from your throat.

You can’t even think straight.

You try again, voice barely a whisper. "Y-Yunho?"

Silence.

No confirmation. No denial. Just another brutal snap of his hips, deeper this time, dragging a moan from your lips before you can stop it.

"Tsk," Mingi coos, his fingers sliding down your throat, pressing just enough to make your head spin. "You don’t even know whose cock you’re taking, do you?"

You try to focus—on the grip on your waist, the way he moves, the way he stretches you. But it’s useless. He’s fucking you too hard, too deep, your body bouncing with each thrust, your moans breaking into incoherent little sobs.

And the worst part? The man between your legs still hasn’t said a damn thing.

Just fucking you into the mattress, watching you come undone, knowing you’ll never guess right.

And you don’t.

Because at this point, it doesn’t even matter.

The man inside you—Yunho (you think, you hope)—doesn’t hold back. His thrusts are deep, brutal, every stroke sinking to the hilt before pulling back just enough to make you feel the loss, only to slam back in harder. Your body jerks with every movement, helpless beneath him, completely at his mercy.

And he still doesn’t make a sound.

No moans, no taunts, nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and your breathy, desperate whimpers filling the air. You hate how easily you’re unraveling, how your body is already tightening, clenching around him, the pleasure coiling low in your stomach. You’re close—so close—your fingers gripping the sheets, legs trembling as your orgasm creeps up fast.

"P-Please," you whimper, not even sure who you’re begging. "Let me cum."

You can feel Yunho smirk against your skin. But he doesn’t answer.

Instead, he pulls out.

A sob rips from your throat at the sudden emptiness, your walls clenching around nothing, the pleasure fading into sharp frustration. You try to squeeze your legs shut, to chase something, but a firm hand grips your thighs, spreading you wide again.

Then you hear it.

The subtle shift of bodies. The rustle of movement.

And then—a new cock presses against your entrance.

Mingi.

Or at least, you think it’s Mingi. You don’t even have time to guess before he thrusts in, just as deep, just as brutal, splitting you open like you were made for this.

A strangled moan escapes your lips, your brain scrambling to figure out who it is, to recognize the way he moves, the way he fills you. But it’s impossible. You can barely focus with the way he’s pounding into you, each thrust hitting exactly where you need, dragging you right back to the edge of pleasure.

Your body tenses, tightening around him, ready to snap—

And then he pulls out too.

"No," you cry, voice breaking.

A deep chuckle. "Poor thing," Mingi murmurs, but you can’t tell if it’s him who was just inside you or if he’s sitting back, watching.

Your head is spinning, your body aching, but there’s no time to think—because once again, a new cock presses against your entrance.

Yunho.

Or maybe Mingi.

You have no idea.

The stretch is immediate, the fullness almost unbearable after being denied twice, but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore. Your mind is nothing but static, your body trembling as they take turns with you, switching again and again, keeping you on the edge but never letting you fall.

Your thighs burn, your skin slick with sweat, your voice hoarse from begging.

But then—

When the next body presses against you, when the next cock slides inside, you feel it.

The way he angles himself. The way his hips roll slightly different.

Your body is trembling, every nerve alight with overstimulation, your mind fogged by the endless cycle of pleasure and denial. You don’t even know how many times they’ve switched, how many times they’ve pushed you to the brink only to rip it away at the last second.

But this time—this time, you know.

The second he thrusts back in, the stretch, the curve of him—it clicks.

"Yunho," you gasp, your voice wrecked from begging, from moaning, from taking.

For the first time, he makes a sound. A low, dark chuckle rumbles from his chest, and his grip on your waist tightens.

"Finally," Mingi muses from beside you, his tone laced with amusement. His hand ghosts over your jaw, tilting your face towards him. His lips brush against your ear, breath hot. "You really are a good little slut, huh? Figuring out who’s using you like this?"

A wave of heat washes over you at the praise, your thighs twitching, desperate for friction. But before you can get lost in it—before you can even think of chasing that pleasure—Yunho pulls out.

Your whole body jolts from the loss, a strangled sob escaping your lips.

"Shh," Mingi soothes, though there’s nothing gentle about the way he grips your throat, forcing your head back. His thumb strokes over your pulse, feeling how erratic it is. "You don’t think we’d let you cum that easily, do you?"

You whimper, shaking your head, because you already know the answer.

"Good girl," he purrs, pressing a slow, taunting kiss to your jaw before pulling back.

Then, his next words make your stomach drop.

"Yunho. Pick her up."

A rush of air fills your lungs as strong arms hook under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your body is weightless, dizzy with exhaustion, but you feel the way Yunho settles back against the headboard, the broad expanse of his chest supporting you as he spreads your legs wide over his lap. And then—Mingi moves between them. Your breath stutters.

You barely have a second to react before Mingi’s hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider as he presses himself against you. The slick drag of him against your already stretched entrance makes your head spin, the reality of what’s about to happen sinking in.

"Oh," you whisper, voice shaky.

Mingi smirks, dragging the head of his cock over your swollen, ruined cunt.

"Oh," he mocks, his voice dripping with amusement. "She finally gets it."

You barely get a chance to prepare before Yunho tightens his grip on your waist, and the pressure between your legs doubles.

And then—

They sink in together.

Your vision whites out, your body convulsing from the impossible stretch, the overwhelming fullness, the way they force you open, taking everything they give.

"Fuck," Mingi growls, voice strained. "She’s taking us both so fucking well."

Yunho doesn’t say a word. He just moves.

And the last coherent thought you have is that they still haven’t let you cum.

And you have no idea when they will.

The world outside your body seems to disappear as they continue, the overwhelming sensation of being stretched in both directions, filled and claimed in ways that make your head spin. The steady rhythm of their thrusts has your body writhing beneath them, and your chest rises and falls erratically with each deep push. They’re relentless. Neither one of them lets up, their hips slamming into yours with a force that has you gasping for air, your nails digging into the sheets beneath you.

You can barely keep track of who's inside you anymore. Your body’s giving itself over completely, the pressure building relentlessly as both men move in perfect harmony. Their pace never falters, pushing you to the brink of overwhelming pleasure, but they don't let you reach it. Not yet.

Every thrust is deeper, harder, until it feels like you’re being driven into the mattress, your body lifted slightly with each savage movement. The relentless pounding has you gasping for breath, your legs trembling with the intensity of their touch. You’re on the edge—so close—but then it happens again: they pull back.

You whimper, lost in the pleasure and the frustration, your body trembling with need.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, barely able to form the words. "Please... let me... please..."

Mingi chuckles low, his grip tightening around your hips. "Begging already? You’re a desperate little slut, huh?" His words are a mixture of praise and command, teasing you with the harsh edge of his tone.

Yunho doesn't respond with words, but the way he drives into you next, the sheer force of his movement, speaks louder than anything he could have said. You cry out, tears filling your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. The sounds of their movements and your moans fill the room, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. But still, they don’t let you tip over.

"You're gonna beg for it, aren't you?" Mingi murmurs, voice hushed but full of dark amusement. His hands roam over your body, touching, teasing, leaving you desperate for more. "Beg for us, baby. Beg us to let you cum."

You shake your head in disbelief, the frustration building to an unbearable point. "Please, please... I need it," you beg, voice trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I need to cum... please."

Yunho grits his teeth, his hips snapping faster, deeper, forcing you to take every inch. The way he pushes into you, the way his body moves against yours—there’s no stopping it, no controlling it. You can feel the tension coiling tighter in your stomach, every thrust driving you closer to the edge, but the denial is unbearable.

Then—finally—they relent.

Mingi leans down, his lips crashing against yours in a rough, passionate kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you as he thrusts harder. At the same time, Yunho’s hand slips between your legs, finding your clit, and his fingers begin to work it in tight, controlled circles.

Your body jolts at the touch, the sudden rush of sensation overwhelming, and without warning, the pressure in your core snaps. You’re spiraling, tumbling over the edge as they push you past every boundary. Your body trembles beneath them, your cries of pleasure swallowed by Mingi’s kiss, the heat and the relief washing over you in waves.

Yunho doesn’t stop, his fingers never ceasing their movement as your orgasm wracks through your body, leaving you gasping, panting, writhing in the aftermath.

Mingi pulls back from the kiss, his grin dark and satisfied. "That’s it," he murmurs. "Good girl. You did so well."

Your body is trembling, raw from the intense pleasure and the overwhelming teasing, but they’re not done with you yet. You’re spent, but still, the deep, relentless pounding continues, pushing you to the edge again. The air is thick with their dominance, their control over you, and it leaves you gasping for breath, struggling to keep up with their relentless pace.

Mingi leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re taking us so well, little slut,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you harder, deeper, pushing you further into the bed. The sensation is almost too much, and yet, you can’t help but want more. Every inch of you craves it—more of them, more of their control, more of the feeling of being filled and used like this.

But then—Yunho.

You hear the soft click of a drawer beside him. You can’t even process it before he pulls something small from the drawer—a vibrator. A small, sleek bullet, cold against your skin for a split second before he presses it against your clit.

You gasp. The sensation is too much. Your body tenses, already sensitive from the constant stimulation, and Yunho doesn’t waste a moment. The tiny vibrator buzzes against you, sending shocks of pleasure that make your body jolt. You can barely think as Mingi keeps fucking into you with no mercy, your body being pounded relentlessly, your mind spinning with the overload of sensation.

Yunho’s fingers work the vibrator over your clit with precision, each pulse sending you closer and closer to the edge. You’re shaking, completely at their mercy, unable to do anything but moan and beg as they continue. Your walls tighten around Mingi, and the pressure is almost unbearable.

And then, as the vibrator presses harder, the combination of the pounding and the stimulation hits you like a wave. Your body tenses, and a cry escapes your lips as your orgasm crashes over you. It’s intense, overwhelming, and your entire body clenches, the sensations rippling through you as you come.

But they’re not done yet.

As you tremble, still recovering from the overwhelming wave of pleasure, Mingi growls in satisfaction, his grip tightening around you, forcing you to stay in place as Yunho never stops, his fingers still pressing the vibrator against your clit. The pressure builds again, too much to bear, but you can’t pull away—you're trapped in this endless cycle of pleasure and denial.

They move together, pushing you past every limit you thought you had. The intensity is almost cruel, and they’re relentless in their control over you, taking their pleasure while you give in to theirs.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they both cum, filling you up with their warmth. But even then, they don’t let up. Yunho pulls the vibrator away, but only for a second, making you shudder at the sudden absence before he presses it back, causing another wave of pleasure to pulse through you.

After everything, the room is thick with the weight of what just happened. Your body feels heavy, spent from the overwhelming pleasure. They both stay still for a moment, allowing the warmth of their thick cum to settle deep inside you. You can feel the mess, but neither one of them makes you move just yet.

Yunho pulls out first, his release dripping from you onto the mattress beneath. Mingi watches closely, his gaze dark with satisfaction. The moment is quiet, but the tension in the air is palpable.

“Look at you,” Mingi says softly, a slight smirk on his lips. His hands move to your thighs, gently soothing the tense muscles, his fingers gliding over your skin in slow, comforting strokes. “You did so well, baby.”

Yunho leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips soft against your skin. His hand brushes away the stray strands of hair clinging to your face. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice low, soft, and full of praise. “You handled us better than we expected.”

They give you a moment to breathe, their hands gentle against your skin. Yunho slowly reaches for the blindfold, carefully pulling it from your eyes. As the fabric slides away, you blink against the light, your gaze meeting theirs. Your eyes are still teary, and they drink in the sight of you—exhausted, yet somehow still aroused.

Mingi leans in, his fingers softly tracing the outline of your jaw. “How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, his voice laced with concern despite the teasing edge. He’s still watching you carefully, his fingers gentle as they rub the tender skin of your inner thighs. “We didn’t go too far, did we?”

Yunho smiles at the sight of you, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Good girl,” he says, his words soft but full of meaning. “You’re so beautiful when you’re completely ours.. completely for our own use.”

They both stay close, offering tender aftercare, letting the intensity of the moment fade as they care for you. Their hands, their words, their presence—everything about them is gentle, grounding you after the storm.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

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Reality hit again, “Fuck, Yunho—wait, someone—I think someone,” You were cut off by a particularly powerful suck of your clit, almost as his way of telling you to shut the fuck up. Your head lulled back into the pillow, focusing on him for only a moment. You were trying so hard to suppress the moans he drew out of you with the circles and kisses and licks against your cunt. But, there was no doubt he was skillful. 

He didn’t care if someone walked in though; his roommates or friends or, God forbid, his family. He didn’t care, but you did. And that’s why you bit your lip, using both hands to try and pry him away from you. 

“P-please I’m gonna—I can’t,” You felt a bubbling sensation within your lower stomach, all the pleasure finally adding up. This is what he wanted from you and he was going to get it. 

He pulled you closer to his face, legs fully pressed into the creases of his arms, which caged you against his lips. He grabbed both of your wrists with his hands, locking them down. He made you stop moving, and took away your fail-safe noise control all at once. 

“Yunho…” You practically sobbed under your breath, eyes shifting to the door. What a compromising position you’d have to explain. What an embarrassing memory you’d have to suppress. You didn’t want whoever it was to see you differently, however, your boyfriend was the only one to actually see you like this. “Don-don’t make me,” 

But it was the desperate, lovesick look in his eyes that made you want the opposite when your head shifted back. It was the slight panting, and grinding hips that made you want to come undone for him. And at this rate, it seemed inevitable over your willpower. 

Nobody’s ever wanted you this bad, and frankly the thought of being caught was kind of hot. 

Your back arched against his hold suddenly, mouth threatening to fall open; the moans and whines cascading with it. Your orgasm was strong, stronger than usual, and it spasmed every muscle in your body. Your head was fuzzy, and it felt like the world was about to go dark. 

And when you came to, you barely recognized what happened. Not only did he almost get you to pass out from the intensity, but you squirted against his chin and neck as well. 

Panic set in, and you looked around through the white-dots that scattered your vision, frantically in search of whoever could’ve walked in—oh, what an even more embarrassing sight for them to see. You didn’t even care about your soaked boyfriend who was kissing your thighs, trying to calm you down. 

“Angel,” He said, trying to gather your attention, “Look at me.” 

Those familiar words awoke something primal in you, and you did as you were told. He crawled up your body, leaving kisses against the skin he could get to underneath the hoodie that had ridden up. He finally let your arms free in the process, palms coming to rest against your blushing cheeks. 

“Stop worrying,” He kissed your lips, a mix of yourself on his taste, “The door’s locked.” 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

At first, when Yeosang brought you to their group of friends, it was like the doors to heaven had been open. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe in angels, no, he did, but he never thought he’d see one in person, until you walked through the doors of the apartment that one fatidic day that Yeosang decided to call you and ask you to join. 

The curse started when he found out you had a boyfriend, but again, nothing that was bad couldn’t get worse right? A small curse in disguise of a blessing. You had broken up, and you didn’t want to set foot in the apartment you shared with your ex, but Yeosang was quick to offer their apartment for the time being. It wasn’t like Yunho was opposed to it, on the contrary, they had a guest room that could easily be your home for the time being. The actual curse came when he started to find your clothes hanging on the apartment, your lace underwear drying in your room when you were out for University, the small moans and whimpers you’d make from time to time as you tried to open something or were frustrated with whatever. 

But the real curse was when he took his headphones after a game with his friends and heard your muffled whines and moans he was so used to. There was no way you were doing what he thought you were, right? God he prayed you weren’t, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts away from the gutter. He took a deep breath as he tried to keep all the blood on his body to move south of his waist, but god it was hard as he kept hearing your moans and whines and now your freaking curses! 

He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t carefully put his headset down. He shouldn’t carefully get up from the gaming chair. He shouldn’t carefully walk out of his room and open his door with the utmost care not to make a single sound as he walks towards your room. To the room where the whimpers were coming, whimpers that would hunt his dreams and were already straining his sweats. As he walked closer to your room, the sounds became clearer. All sounds. 

Your door wasn’t open, but the breach that was between your door and the door frame was considerable enough to have him poke through. Enough to see your shaky legs, to see your hips jolting in the air as your dildo went in and out of you. The way your moans grew louder, were you… pleading? He could swear he heard you beg to let you cum, to beg for release as your other hand went down to play with your clit. The cries along with the sounds and the visual — even of half your body — were enough to make Yunho palm his crotch, holding back a moan but not the small whimper that left his lips at the friction.

“That’s it… yes,” you say after the whimper, you were still shaking, but your pace had increased, you were more vocal, were you not scared of him and Yeosang would listen? Of course not, Yeosang was out for the weekend and he was playing with his friends like he usually did… So did that mean you did that every single time on the same day and time? “Please, please, please, I’m so close, I’ve been good haven’t I?”

It was like you were talking to him, and god it took all his will power not to say something in return. It was like you knew he was there. It was like you were talking to him, but you couldn’t see him, could you? His hand made friction on his sweats as he held back a moan. At the sight of your shaky body, he knew you were close, close enough to probably not notice if he peaked through, right?

God he was a pervert.

How could he think that? How could he not think that?

The second his head peaked inside your room, his hand went down his pants. Shaky hands finding his hard leaking member, and this was all thanks to your whimpers, when he saw you, he could have come in sight if he didn’t have better control of himself. His hand quickly palmed himself through the sweat pants, he could feel the wet stain on his trousers, but you were a sight he wanted to drown into. 

Your legs spread open, the dildo coming in and out of you as you were shaking in bed, your free hand on your clit as you tried your best to find release. Yunho’s hand quickly found its way inside his pants, as he bit his bottom lip keeping quiet, trying to mimic the movements he was seeing. In-Out, In-Out, faster, slower, In-Out… It was like you were doing it on purpose, edging yourself while edging him. Your moans grew louder along with your movements getting faster. Your legs closed momentarily and it took all in Yunho not to go there and spread them open, pushing your dildo out of the way and burying his fat leaking cock in your spent pussy.

As you shook uncontrollably, and quickly let out a loud cuss mixed with a moan, he knew you came, and he didn’t. He tried to finish, and the sight of you pulling out the dildo from inside you, your legs spread and you all exposed to him pushed him over the edge.

He let out a muffled moan.

When he saw you halting your movements, he quickly went to the hall, covering his own mouth as his hands moved faster along his shaft, if he closed his eyes he could see you once more, all spent and slightly fucked out in your bed. As he finally came, the wet patch grew considerably, his face growing hot as he heard movements in your room, making him rush towards his bedroom hoping you wouldn’t catch him. 

As the door closed, he rested his back against it. His hand was sticky, his heart racing, his pants a considerable problem, but his mind…his mind was stuck in the image of you in your bed. If he was fucked before, he was even more now. The mere thought of what just happened made his cock twitch on his trousers. If he closed his eyes, he could see you laid bare on your bed, your pussy all wet and prepped for his cock to be buried deep in you, making you scream your lungs out his name, feeling your skin under his finger, having his finger buried in your pussy as he made out with your clit. He could feel your hands on his hair, pulling it away as you also moved because he was giving you too much pleasure. 

He came once more.

He was definitely fucked. 

He was avoiding you like the plague.

He knew it.

You knew it.

Yeosang knew it.

If you knew he had caught you, Yunho had no idea, but he did notice that you tried to talk to him, even if he tried his best to keep a distance between you two, or someone between you two. Trying his best to never be alone with you in any way possible. But you were a damn minx.

If he’d occasionally find your underwear in between the clothes, now it was outright in front of him. You didn’t even care to keep your door closed with your clothes drying in there. So technically you wouldn’t miss an underwear or two, right? Nor notice them suddenly appearing in your laundry day basket, definitely not. You wouldn’t even suspect since Yunho would clean them to the best of his abilities after he was done jerking off on them, or even while sniffing another one he got that still had your scent. 

And of course, that wasn’t enough, you had to keep with your damn moans every single damn week. Making him change his gaming time, making him be the quietest little mouse going to get a treat of this mischievous little cat. He wasn’t in the wrong was he? You kept your door half-open, you kept your underwear scattered around, you kept your moans muffled but also loud, you kept changing positions in your room — bringing Yunho to the edge of insanity as he pictures these different positions and how his hands would explore your body —, you kept making a show, you kept begging, you kept giving him exactly what he wanted, except what he wanted the most. 

You fucked out in his bed while he made sure you couldn’t walk for days, all marked from his hands and the hickeys he’d leave over your body, even if you weren’t his, you belonged to him, he’d mark you. He’d make sure everyone knew you were his, even if once, or twice, or as many times as he’d have you in his bed or on any possible surface. 

“What’s up with you? It’s the second time you do laundry this week, you okay?” Yunho jumped slightly at your voice, trying to hide the stained pants from the night before when he saw you once more stuffing yourself with a useless dildo while he could— “Yunho? You okay?”

“Ah, ye-yeah, sorry, just a little… everywhere,” he said nervously, throwing a shirt over his laundry so you wouldn’t see the stained pants from the night before. “Also, Yeosang said he has this uni trip, are you going with him?”

“Oh, no, it’s for his own course,” you looked at Yunho confused, since Yeosang had mentioned during breakfast it was with his classmates and whatnot. “Yun, you sure you okay? You’ve been weird for quite a while now…”

Was he being that obvious? Could you see it was because of you? 

“I’m fine just… a lot in my head, sorry…” He quickly averted eye contact with you, although your eyes kept observing him intently. “I should go back to my room I have—”

“What about your laundry?” You cut him off confused, pointing to the laundry basket in his arms.

“I’ll wash it later, there’s this shirt I wanna use later on for a party, if I wash it now I’ll probably use it and I’ll not wash only that shirt, Yeosang would kill me for wasting water like that…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle and nod. “I mean, true, but… You can always wash your clothes along with mine… I don’t mind it…”

Oh he knew how you didn’t mind, but he had to play a part. He couldn’t make it obvious he was spying on you almost every damn night, waiting for a tiny moan or a vibrating sound coming from your room, no, he definitely couldn’t. Yeosang would have his head and you’d probably call the cops on him for being a pervert.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” as if heavens had heard him, one of his friends called him, allowing him to be away from you as he started to feel his hard on growing at each second he spent beside you. “Sorry, Mingi is calling me, I have to take it, you know how he is…”

“Take the Princess Minki phone call, the last thing I want is him saying I’m keeping his best friend from him and stealing him like I stole Yeosang or whatnot.”

Both laughed as Yunho gave you a small smile and nod, picking up the call from Mingi and heading back to his bedroom, closing the door and trying to focus on what Mingi was saying and not on how much he wished he could pin you back to a wall and fucked you.

You had him. 

You had him wrapped around your freaking unreachable delicious cunt. 

Your walls were pressing around his cock as he hammered into you, his hand around your neck, the other slapping your breast as he heard your whines and pleas, he finally had you wrapped around his fingers, after so long of you having him. You cunt was squeezing his cock so much that he knew he’d have to do his best to control himself, he couldn’t cum so easily, no… He needed to see your eyes on the back of your head, your back arched, your hardened nipples to the ceiling as your breasts moved each time his cock got buried inside your cunt. 

“Yunho, argh— please, please, please let me cum, please, Yun!”

He smirked, slowing down his movements, seeing you whine loudly and move your hips, only to have you stop as his free hand dug into your hips. As his cock slowly and tortuously entered your core, he lowered himself, lips almost touching… 

And he woke up. 

Sweat all over his body and precum leaking from his cock inside his pants. 

“Fucking hell…”

It wasn’t the first time and definitely wouldn’t be the last that he would wake up from a wet dream with you in it, when he finally took you and buried himself in you, but he always woke up. All the damn time. His trousers were quickly tossed in the laundry basket, at this point he should probably sleep naked, it would definitely save him from a headache that Yeosang was gonna bring when the water bill arrives. 

He had fallen into a routine. 

He’d avoid you to the best of his abilities throughout the day.

He’d take longer showers after breakfast and dinner because you were always there with your sweet smile, concerned eyes, sassy attitude, mischievous personality… God, he wished he had never allowed Yeosang to take you in. You were the biggest temptation, acting like that in front of everyone, while begging to be fucked with a dildo or your fingers deep in your cunt every damn week, and all for Yunho’s ears to hear.

You were driving him insane. 

As he finished his shower, he quickly put on another pair of pants, hoping no wet dream would come about for the rest of the night, that is… until he heard you. Not only heard you pleading, no… You were calling him.

He was definitely going insane. You wouldn’t call his name in the middle of the name, and definitely not in between muffled moans… Was he still dreaming? Was his mind so perverted to that point? He slowly and quietly left his room heading to yours — once again — half-opened door. The closer he got the clearer the words became. You were pleading. You were moaning. You had a damn vibrator stuck in your cunt once more.

But you were moaning his name.

As he stood by your door, your fingers were deep in your cunt, the wet sound along with your moans and his name coming from your mouth quickly made a tent show up in his trousers. If you were quiet you would hear his gulping along with the increase in his heart rate. You were calling for him, while stuffing your fingers in your sweet cunt, all spread open just waiting for him. It was an invite, it was clear, or was he reading too much into it? 

“Yun, Yun please, I need your cock, please,” his cock twitched in his pants as his eyes was focused on your fingers inside your pussy, already working to spread you open. It was the chuckle that woke him up, making him look at you, finding you already looking at him with a smirk and hooded eyes, not stopping your movements, your fingers spreading you open as your eyes trailed down the tent in his pants. “Took you long enough, thought I’d have to moan louder to make you come around this time… were you playing your games with headphones? But I guess calling your name did the trick,” your other hand went down to your clit, circle movements along with your fingers making you bite your lip bucking your hips a little, looking back at Yunho. “C’mon, don’t be shy, I love to hear you at my door, Yun…”

His eyes widened, not for the fact you knew he was spying on you everytime you masturbated, but because you sounded like you… liked it. His cock twitched once more in his pants, your legs spreading wider as you saw him standing there, chuckling at his slight shocked expression. Your fingers stopped circling your clit, while your fingers inside you spread your labia open as you observed him. He was drooling and you were loving every second, finally being able to see how much he wanted you, how much he’d destroy you if he had the chance, just like you wanted, just like you planned. 

“Y-you knew?”

“Of course I knew, or do you really think I’d be that reckless and lazy to leave my underwear everywhere, or… where you’d be able to see it?” Your smirked made something in Yunho switch. You truly had him around your fingers, you played him like a freaking violin, and he was curious to see what else your devilish mind could think as he started to walk closer to you. “Also, thanks for giving back all the underwear you took, I was scared I’d need to buy a few more, at least I’d buy a few more of the ones you liked.”

A smirk appeared on his lips. 

He was willing to play your little game, if it meant he’d finally get what he wanted: you.

“So… you knew I was always at your door, and… you kept acting as if you knew nothing? Did you get it off on that?”

“As much as you did… or are we not gonna talk about the amount of pairs of pants you went through the last couple of weeks?” Your smirk widened, his eyebrows shot up. Of course you would’ve noticed. “But I meant it, I don’t mind washing your clothes along with mine… We’ve been doing that for quite a while now, have we not?”

“And you’ve been enjoying this little game, have you not?”

“Can’t say I’m not… but it’s getting tired, and my wrist needs a little break, I wouldn’t mind a helping hand, if you are offering…”

You kept looking at him as he got closer to his bed, his precum already staining part of his pants, his eyes trailing your body as you spread your legs open again, moving closer to the edge of the bed on the side he was. A small scoff came out of Yunho’s mouth as he saw your hand trailing closer to his pants playing with the string, while looking at him with fake innocence. 

“Do you have any idea how much you tortured me these last few weeks?”

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it nor planned on how to punish me for it?” Your hips moved a little as your knee moved to touch his hand, it was always one of your favorite features of him, that and the little vein that would pop out of his neck when you teased him too much. “Or should I beg on my knees with your cock in my mouth while I milk you dry?”

His eyes darkened as a smirk appeared on his lips, lowering himself enough to have his right hand cup your face before tightening its grip on your jaw. “The only thing milking me dry is you cunt while I breed you, my pretty little slut.”

As your teeth sank on your bottom lip, Yunho’s left hand traced down your leg from your knee to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch, a smug smile took form on his lips as he tilted his head observing your reaction as his fingers got closer to your core, the tips tracing around it, but never touching. The grip on your jaw forcing you to look at him as the pads of his fingers traced every area from your inner thighs to your lower belly, to your labia, but never where you wanted them. Your hand moved to touch his cock through his trouser, making him groan, slapping your clit, making you moan but keep massaging his cock, making the stain of the precum spread a little. 

“How about you put your fingers inside me, while you fuck my mouth? Would you like that, handsome?”

“Oh, we are resolving to flattery now… I see… and you think choking on my cock while I spread your pussy will make up for all these past weeks I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in you?” His fingers finally touched your clit, torturously circling the bundle of nerve, pitching it whenever you moved your hips trying to get more friction. “Are you gonna behave like a brat or as a good slut?”

“Says the perv that was jerking off to watch me for the past few weeks,” Yunho’s hand left your jaw slapping your face, before taking the grip once more, but before you could say anything, two fingers entered your already sensitive core, making you gasp. “Fuck— finally, oh yes!”

“Oh you look so pretty like this, my pretty little slut… but are you gonna be my good girl and listen, or be a brat and get punished?” Before you could answer, two of his fingers entered your mouth stopping you from speaking, as your tongue quickly moved around it, making Yunho smirk as his fingers curled inside you. “Free my cock, play with it a little, get an idea of what it’s gonna be inside your mouth in a bit, yes pretty?”

You nodded, choking out a moan as Yunho’s fingers curled inside you once more. Your hands quickly moved to pull his pants down, freeing his massive cock, making your eyes widen but your mouth water even more wanting him inside your mouth. Your hand quickly spread the precum, your thumb gently moving it around as you watched his reaction, smiling as you made sure to suck his fingers while clenching your walls around his other fingers, whining as he added a third one, spreading you even wider.

“Gotta fit in your pretty little pussy, hm? Or you think you can take my cock without prepping? I think you can, since how much of a good slut you are…”

He took his fingers out of your mouth, his fingers back into holding your jaw. “I can, I can take it, I want your cock Yun, please, I—,” another harsh slap as you felt his fingers leave your cunt making you jolt. “I’ll be good, sorry, I’ll be your good girl and be patient.”

His smirk widened as his fingers traced the outline of your labia just the first phalanges entering your core, making you whine and move your hips a little, giving you another pinch on your clit, making you cry out a moan. 

“Be a good girl and stop moving so much, yes?” You nodded. “Since you don’t want to use your words, better use that mouth for something better, hm?” He pushed your hand away from his cock already smeared with the precum you carefully spread, his tip touching your lips as you quickly widened your mouth to fit him inside. “Fuck, even your mouth is perfect.”

Although all you wanted was to move your free hand down to your clit, you knew Yunho would probably punish you, not that you cared, but you wanted him, you wanted him inside. The more you teased and pushed his boundaries, the more he’d keep you away from cumming on his cock. Intead, your hand moved to your breasts, pinching your nipples as your head was too busy focusing on taking Yunho’s length, your hand helping you in the process, stopping a few times as you felt his fingers curling inside of you, or changing its movements rapidly. He was torturing you like you tortured him, and you were enjoying every second of it.

Saliva is already dripping from the corners of your mouth, your throat already hurting a little from the few times Yunho deep throated you. Your pussy was already read and super sensitive from the over stimulation of his fingers and the slaps he gave you when you misbehaved. You felt Yunho’s cock twitch more and more, you knew he was close, so you pushed him to the edge, you wanted his cock inside you. Your dildos weren’t enough, your fingers weren’t enough, his fingers weren’t enough, you needed his cock. You needed his cock buried inside you as you cried his name.

“Yunho please,” you begged once more as he took his cock away from your mouth, as his hand moved along his shaft. “I need your cock, I need your cock buried inside me, I want you to fuck me so much I can’t walk, I want you now, Yunho please, I’ll do whatever you want, just—”

He cut you off quickly manhandling you, making you stay on the edge of the bed as he spread your legs open, looking at your spent cunt all prepped and ready for him. His tip went over it, entering just a little to drive you crazy, but there wasn’t much you could do as he kept your legs apart and on the edge of the bed. Your hands going to your breasts, pinching your nipples as you watched Yunho’s cock disappear inside your cunt, little by little he drove you crazy. Didn’t matter if you pleaded, if you called his name, he was gonna take you in his way, and you were gonna let him and love it. 

“Now breath for me, pretty,” he said calmly taking the half of his cock that was inside out, making you cry a moan once more, a smug grin appeared on his lips, as he shoved his cock fully inside you, making you gasp and scream, “I thought you said you could take me, and I prepped you well enough for my cock, yeah?” 

He quickly pulled all his cock out, before you could even react if was fully inside again, and he repeated that a few more times before his hand that was previous on his shaft, move to your clit making circling movements as he kept burying himself deep into you and pulling all out. Your hand moved lower, holding his forearm, nails dug into his flesh and he knew he was pushing you too much and he himself was on the edge. His hand left your clit to meet your face, cupping it and caressing softly, his thumb going over your lower lip as his movements became gentle. 

“I won’t break, you can be sweet the next time, I want you to break me,” your words made his eyes darken, as you smirked a little. “I want to see the real Yunho behind the Golden Retriever boy you show around, so fuck me senseless Yunho, please, I need it.”

“Your wish is my command, pretty.”

He didn’t move away from you.

His hand never left your face.

His other hand kept holding one of your legs open.

But his cock was hitting you on all the possible spots, making you cry and moan each time he hit the spot, at each angle it changed making you feel him differently whenever he impaled you. 

“Look at me, I want you to look at me and say my name as I feel you squeezing me with that sweet little cunt of yours, yes?” You nodded, doing exactly as Yunho said. His movements became more erratic as you were holding back from closing your eyes. Your nails digging into the flesh of his arm and back. “Cum for me pretty, be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

“Yunho, please don’t— oh fuck!” Your high quickly found you as he kept pouncing into you searching for his own release, that it came as soon as you clenched a few more times around him while saying his name like a silent prayer. As his head lowered to find the crook of your neck, your body relaxed feeling happy with the weight of Yunho’s body on top of yours, like a warm soothing blanket. “Are you still angry at me?”

The vibration of his chest along with the breathing of his chuckle against your neck gave you goosebumps, but you chuckle softly as well, seeing Yunho lift his head to look at you. “Oh, I definitely am, but I promise I’ll be nicer the next few times… I just had this annoying brat pushing me over the edge for weeks and making me dream of her sweet cunt wrapped around my cock.”

“Oh, she seems the worst!”

“She can be, but I’m sure I can put her in her place, in more ways than one.”

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...LITERALLY COME TAKE A SEAT IN YOUR FANTASY 🎶

There’s always a fluttering feeling when shopping with Song Mingi; even though this is the first time you're shopping with him. You and Mingi aren’t friends, and you're not dating either. Dancing in the middle of the line becomes really exhilarating over time. After he leaves kisses all over your skin and your pretty sounds trapped in the four walls securely, Mingi coaxes you for more, and takes care of you to a whole other level. 

For sure, the aftercare would be on par with the side of him that only you properly knew. He would caress your skin with gentle swipes on the places that he had before with a different force. His lips would occasionally replace his fingertips, lulling you into deep rest for the rest of the night. Mingi’s frame would be stuck onto you for the rest of the night, the crook of your neck tickled with his exhales and snores.

The next day, Mingi wouldn’t leave your side just yet. He would also take you out the day after, or if busy, as soon as he could. Usually, it's just to grab a drink or have brunch. But this time, it's non-negotiable from the way he treated your favourite top last night. The poor boy pouts that the crease between your eyebrows has never truly faded since last night. He tries to reason with you, saying that he would buy multiple different ones to convey how apologetic his drive was last night, but he knew it was all in vain. Even though the person who gave your favourite top was no one but Mingi himself, you had a special attachment to it as the memories crept up and made your cheeks heat.

“I’m sorry,” Mingi repeats once again. His arms secure your figure to him, pushing your back to his chest. Light kisses land on the side of your head, and you playfully roll your eyes at the overused phrase in the last twenty-four hours. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

You could tell that the pout is still plastered on his lips, but you had no intention of letting it leave. You’re no longer mad at him; in fact, you were never really mad. Yes, you were upset because the top was so pretty and fit any occasion, but you knew that he didn’t do it on purpose, and last night was divine in more ways than one. You continue to ignore his presence, only crossing your arms across your chest as you keep focus on the changing numbers on the top of the elevator. 

When you’re faced with the correct floor, you step out with Mingi stumbling behind you. He still follows closely behind you, complimenting your choices for most, whilst twisting a dissatisfied look for others. There were occasions when you would slip a few chuckles at his comments, and Mingi swept your figure to his arms, pulling you into a kiss.

“Took you a while,” you mumble against his lips.

An amused eyebrow rises from the boy. “If you wanted me to kiss you a long time ago, you could’ve just not acted like a brat.”

Oh, he did not just say that in public. Mingi knows the effect that the nickname had on you, and the bustling environment only made adrenaline rush through your veins even more. If it wasn’t for his sturdy grip, you would’ve probably been kneeling on the floor, hands all over his lower body.

As a retaliation, your palm hits his chest, and you escape from his warmth to aimlessly walk around the rest of the clothing racks. You’re so flustered by the looming presence behind you that you started to take random clothes that you knew you would never buy. Unfortunately, Mingi’s effect on you is so obvious that he couldn’t help but push your buttons even more; literally. 

It’s only when you stop at a wall away from the majority of the crowd that Mingi becomes more daring. Your attempt to draw a breath stops halfway when his palm follows the lines from behind your waist to the front. His index finger follows his thumb under his clothes, which you only realise you had on. The bottom button that secures your skin from the public is no more, followed by the button on top of it. The need to suppress a moan fills your mind, but you couldn’t help but at least groan and instinctively step backwards towards him. Your hips push against his own, and you wrap your hand around his wrist that continues their ministrations up your chest.

“Stay still,” he rasps beside your ear. A finger hooks itself under the underband of your bra, and you gasp at his attempt to let your chest free in the open space. “Should I do it?”

You’re left breathless, tilting your head down low and seeing Mingi’s palm against your increasingly heating skin. You left his question hanging, because in this dynamic between you and him, he has full control within the boundaries that you consented to. He stays still, taking in your beauty below him. A nose nudges against the side of your neck, and it doesn’t take you long to realise the passionate pressure along with occasional swipes to soothe your skin.

You thought you reached your limit some time ago, but you knew you finally reached it when he turned you around and claimed your lips properly. His hand extends to grab a random top. As if he had it all planned out, with all the restraints he has left, he pulls you into the closest fitting room, where, by luck, had no workers supervising. The stall made for one became too small with both of you inside, but it didn’t stop how his shirt hit the floor and the way his skin glistened with the orange light of the room. 

“I took this in the moment, but I think it would fit you well.” Mingi hovers the new top in front of your body, smirking and licking his bottom lip at the sight. The rest of the fabric covering your body is ripped, and he dresses you in the still tagged fabric.

He makes himself comfortable on the stool in the corner of the room before pulling you to straddle his lap. “Mingi, you’re going to rip this one too, with the way you’re being right now.”

“Hm, I’ll just buy it then,” he hums uninterestingly, trying to contain his entire body from not rushing anything with you. “And I guess I’ll just have to buy a new one for you to change and me to rip then.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz kim sunwoo ver. 🤍 nct na jaemin ver.

You stared at the scroll placed in front of you. Anger boiling under your skin as you read the summons. You threw it to the ground before running off to find your father. Your maids watched, stepping back as you yelled out.

“Young lady.” Your father’s voice was firm and harsh.

“Don’t you dare.” You scowled.

“This was something political. Nothing more.” He shrugged you off, getting ready to walk to his study.

“You’re marrying me off father. Like I’m not a human! You’re marrying me to that…” You seemed lost for words. Nothing adding up to the disgust you had when it came to the new Emperor Song. He was vile and cold and less than human.

“You leave tomorrow. Pack your bags or I will.” Your father commanded as your breath hitched.

You had been nothing but an obedient daughter and now it felt like it wasn’t worth anything for you to be one. He wasn’t kidding either, you held off on touching your stuff but when you woke up in the morning things were packed.

Bag placed in the center of the room as you exhaled. You couldn’t move, even when your maids came in to help you get dressed. Putting you in the finest hanbok you owned.

“I don’t want this one.” You looked at them, walking over to the black one you had. One of your maids eyes widened.

“But.. Miss Y/N. That color is only allowed to be worn by Emperor Song himself. Nobody in the palace is even allowed to own that color.” She sounded panicked.

You nodded, still ridding of the soft pink one you had been dressed in. Replacing it with the onyx silk. You bowed towards your maids and grabbed your bag, walking out to the courtyard.

“Please be careful.” One of the many servants ran up to you. Trying not to scare you but they couldn’t help it as they listed off the fears they had for you. Execution, concubines mysteriously disappearing and absolutely no kindness from Mingi himself.

You swallowed as they listed them off. Before you could show your fear, you bowed and walked out to the caravan that had been waiting for you.

It was hard to keep yourself together. The idea of being thrown into this new world as a wife of a man you’ve never met yet despised. Being used as a pawn in some game bigger than you. It felt hard to stay composed.

The sudden halting made you look up, eyes full of sadness as you stared at the bleak palace walls. A servant quickly running over to take you inside.

It felt cold and eerie as everyone greeted you, eyes never leaving your body. You tried to shrug it off as you began looking around the interior. It was big and beautiful, in an intimidating way. Like how you imagined Mingi himself.

“Right this way miss.” One of his servants directed you to your room.

“Very bold to wear the one color he has banned.” One of the passing concubines said to you as you walked by. Leaving a feeling of doubt coursing through your veins.

“Here’s your quarters. Someone will fetch you once it’s time.” The servant bowed before sliding the door closed.

You couldn’t sit there for long. Changing only into another black hanbok with streaks of red. It felt like a piece of your mother was still with you. Begging you to try and stick to tradition.

Sneaking out into the hall way. Columns of black stone standing like silent guards. The space only illuminated by oil lamps that casted long streaks of orange hues.

Everything about the place was intended to intimidate. The high ceilings, sharpened silence and the scent of power that was sealed into the marble for centuries.

You stood in the center of it all, hands clasped tightly in front of you as breath was tight in your ribs. Mingi was late to your first meeting. You didn’t sit, didn’t shift.

You didn’t even flinch when the heavy doors were thrown open. The unhurried, unapologetic heavy footsteps that followed only made your heart race as you tried to stay calm.

He stood in front of you now. Taller than in the painted scrolls you had seen in your father’s study. Robes of deep crimson brushed the floor like fire behind him. The gold ornate crown that weighed heavy on his head as his black, thick locks peeked out underneath.

His eyes were the kind that didn’t just look at you. They searched, picked and sliced you open. He didn’t bow, didn’t welcome. Just stood before you. A deep, dark gaze.

You met his look. If he was unhappy about this marriage then you had every right to feel that way too.

“You came all this way to bow at my feet.” His voice was smooth and twisted with disdain. “At least make yourself worth my time.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You still didn’t drop your eyes from his piercing gaze. “I came because your council threatened war.” Your voice calm. “Don’t confuse duty with devotion,” You faked a smile as you looked at him. “Your majesty,”

A flicker of surprise, just a flash so quick that if you had blinked you would’ve missed it, appeared on his face. Then it twisted into something close to amusement. His tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth for a moment.

“Fiery.” He murmured. “I wonder how long that will last.”

You titled your chin up more, as if you were challenging him. “I wonder the same about your crown.”

Your words hung above you. Heavy and dangerous, and for the first time since he had walked in, a smile was on his face. It was wicked. “Perhaps this union won’t be so dull after all.”

He stepped forward once. His presence overwhelming, but you still didn’t back up. In fact you stood taller. “You’ll dine with me tonight.” He said, more as a command than invitation.

“Of course,” you replied. “I wouldn’t want to keep Your Majesty waiting.” You forced a bow.

His jaw ticked at your actions. He said nothing more, just turned on his heels and walked away like you hadn’t just stood your ground in front of the rising empire.

The grand hall was quiet as you waited for him that evening. Servants moving like shadows, silent and efficient as they laid out silverware. Filling crystal goblets with dark red wine. The long table in the center of the room was slowly being set. You watched as they filled the surface that could fit twenty but only had two chairs out.

You moved closer to the table quietly. Not even realizing that Mingi had already taken his seat at the head. He didn’t rise as you got close to your chair, just looked at you with that unreadable gaze.

“I see you took the invitation seriously.” He said, slowly sipping from the glass the servants had just filled.

“You left no room to refuse.” You spoke as you lowered yourself to the chair for you. The stretch of the table felt like a battlefield, Mingi’s territory and not yours.

“Most consider it a privilege to dine with an Emperor.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Most haven’t been traded as if they were livestock to have the opportunity.” You snapped back at him.

He didn’t know how to respond for a moment as silence loomed over you.

A low, dry chuckle left his lips. “You’re clever. Arrogant but clever. I’ll give you that.”

Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Is that not what you want from an Empress? Or do you want someone quiet and pretty to use as decoration while you get bored?”

He leaned forward into your words. “Is that what you think of me?” He folded his hands in front of him.

“I think you’ve never been told no.” You matched his steady gaze.

He smirked, just enough that it didn’t reach his eyes. “And you’ve never been taught to bite your tongue.”

“If you wanted obedience.” You took a deep breath. “You should have married yourself.”

That got to him. A flicker in his eyes, a sharp breath through his nose. His jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before taking another sip of his wine.

The tension started to dissipate as dishes were placed in front of you. Decadent and artful. Neither of you touched them right away.

“You play a dangerous game. Empress.” His voice was low and slow, only adding emphasis to your soon to be title. “This court of full of wolves and will swallow you whole.”

“Then let them try.” You replied, picking up your own glass. “I bite back.”

He laughed deeply. It almost sounded genuine for a moment.

“So you do.” He adds before picking up his fork.

You sat in silence with him. Eating your meal quickly to not be next to him for much longer. Only quick clinks of silverware and glasses could be heard. Even though no words were spoken the tension continued to grow. Simmering like a challenge made. A fuse lit and ready to go off.

You stood up once you had finished. Not bowing or saying goodbye before walking off. Mingi let you, only watching you like a man that had finally met his match.

Your body was filled with a sudden sadness as you were awoken by the servants the next morning. Even though you had already been behind the palace walls for two nights it was the morning you gave up your freedom.

They dressed you in red. Not for love, not for tradition. Only with power. The power of Mingi’s request for his bride. Crimson silk draping off your shoulders, the sleeves embroidered with golden dragons and ruby eyes. The imperial seamstress didn’t speak a word as she fastened the royal blue belt.

You looked in the mirror. The regal and untouchable version stared back at you. You tried to keep your nerves down but couldn’t, hands trembling under the fabric as they got ready for you to walk out.

You walked the halls alone. The music hollow and slow, echoing through the halls felt like misery instead of the celebration. No family. No bridesmaids. Just guards and the weight of the future you were being promised to.

The throne room had transformed. Incense smoke coiled towards the ceilings, chandeliers blazing with flame, and nobles lining the walls like vultures in silk. They were tracking each step you made, assessing you with curiosity and pity. At the far end of the room stood Mingi.

Dressed in black and gold. He looked carved from stone, emotionless. Impossibly tall with the crown on his head. His eyes shifted to you once before looking away. Then back to you, but staring at you like you were just another offering being tossed to his feet. You stood beside him, head held high. Keeping the trembling in your chest.

The priest began, rambling about tradition, unity, fate and eternal rule. None of it was registering as your only focus was on keeping your body relaxed, not wanting anybody to see how you were shaking like a leaf blown in the wind.

“Join hands.” The priest instructed.

Mingi extended his hand lazily, like the gesture bored him. You placed your hand in his. Feeling his cool, calloused and strong palm on yours. You never interlaced your fingers with his and neither did he.

None of it was feeling real. Even when the priest gestured for you to sit on the cushion in front of you. Not even as you drank from the gourd passed between the two of you, it only clicked to you as you bowed for the third time. Realizing that you now had the title you never wanted.

Mechanical applause erupted from the scholars waiting on this moment. He stood next to you, hand centimeters away from your skin. He never kissed you, instead he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Play your role well, Empress. And maybe in time I’ll let you breathe.”

You turned to look up at him just slightly. “You first.” You whispered back.

The hall had emptied, but the echo of ceremonial drums beat loudly in your chest. Every step toward your new chambers felt like walking deeper into a labyrinth you weren’t ready for. Somewhere behind you, you swore you felt his gaze on you. Sharp, assessing, like the final thread tying you to the man you had just sworn yourself to. You told yourself you wouldn’t shiver but the air felt much colder now that this was your home.

The door shut behind you with a soft, final click. You exhaled, finally feeling like you had the chance to breathe as you looked around the room. Candlelight was still flickering in heavy sconces, casting long shadows against walls embroidered with the imperial dragons. A fire crackled in the hearth, low and contained.

You looked over to see Mingi sitting near the window. Cloaked in shadows and disdain. The ceremonial wear already replaced with his pajamas. The top slightly opened at the chest, a few strands of hair sticking to his forehead from the humid evening.

He gripped the wine glass in his hands as his eyes shifted over to you. “You’re late.” He murmured.

You stepped closer to him, footsteps silent across the polished floors. “You didn’t specify a time.” You responded casually.

He let out a scoff, placing down his wine glass on the windowsill with a muted thud. “Punctuality is expected of an Empress.”

“So is respect from an Emperor.” You said smoothly, stopped a few feet in front of him. “But it looks like both of us are redefining tradition tonight.”

His gaze dropped for just a second. Examining the black silk robe that clung to your figure. The delicate embroidery glinting in the firelight. His jaw ticked. “You wore black again.” He sounded unamused.

“Should I have worn white? Pretended that this was a hopeful new beginning?” Your voice was calm and even. Your fingers tightening around the knot at your waist. “Let’s not insult each other with illusions.”

A beat of silence. The air thickened as Mingi stood slowly. Like a storm gathering weight. He crossed the space between you with the grace of a predator - quiet, composed, terrifying. When he stopped, he was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of him. His scent was smoke and spice and something much darker underneath.

He looked down at you like you were a challenge and temptation. “You think I’m cruel.” His voice was low.

“You are.” You replied without hesitation. “But I think you’ve learned to use your cruelty the way I use my tongue - to protect the last of your pride.”

A sharp exhale left his nose. Close to a laugh. His hand rose, not to touch you. He reached over you, fingers brushing the edge of curtain behind your shoulders. But you felt it, the hesitation and temptation he was fighting.

“Careful,” you taunted. “You’re starting to look at me like a man, not an emperor.”

His eyes flicked to yours, dangerous and unreadable. “And you’re forgetting where you are.” He whispered.

“No.” You murmured. “I’m finally seeing who I’m here with.”

He stared at you for a long moment. As if he was trying to decide between silencing you or maybe even surrendering. Instead, he stepped back. The moment breaking instantly. He walked back to the other side of the room, taking his seat back. His shoulders tense underneath the silk.

“You’ll sleep in the east chambers.” His voice was clipped. “There will be nothing else tonight.”

You nodded once, walking over to reach for the handles of the door. You turned your head, not enough to looked at him. Your voice falling soft and sharp. “You don’t have to keep pushing me away, your majesty. I’m not here to conquer you.”

You paused, debating your final words before letting them out. “Not unless you beg.”

You left quickly, the door shutting softly behind you. Mingi sat there alone as his heart was hammering in his chest. You weren’t what he was expecting at all.

He assumed you would be polite, quiet and eager to plead for the sake of your survival but you were the opposite. Bold and unafraid to meet his eyes. You spoke in ways no one in this palace dared to. When you bowed towards him it was just to please those watching and not with the respect that should come with it.

It unsettled him. Not in a way that bred his anger but in a way that started to demand caution. He’s been in this palace where affection was a weapon and trust was a trap. People in these walls smiled with honey on their lips while slipping poison into your tea.

Every softness he had known turned sharp. Instead of indulging in the pull he felt towards you. The one he hated himself for feeling. He decided it was best to hold you at arms length.

Distance was safer. For you, for him. At least that’s what he was telling himself.

Even with those intentions he didn’t mean to turn to ignorance. His silence wasn’t neglect — it was study. Yet the more he tried to keep his distance the more your voice lingered in his ears, the more the image of your gaze on him burned into his chest, pressing into his memory.

The way you looked at him earlier in the day. He had tried to have a conversation with you. Nervously as he spoke about something meaningless. A thread he could hold onto and pull into familiarity. You only looked at him, lips curling in something shy of a smile. Only responding with a short and disinterested hum before turning away and walking towards your own chamber. It wasn’t cruel but it was enough to remind him that you didn’t owe him anything.

The chamber felt heavier without you in it. The air thick with the faint scent of you that was left behind. His crown weighed like iron, his robes ghosting the floors as he moved. He told himself he needed to focus, discipline, but his mind refused to obey.

Mingi sat down at his desk. Planning to draft the plans his council has been awaiting. Yet as soon as his pen started to move the words weren’t about war. They were about you and nothing else.

Day One:

She spoke with a visiting diplomat. Like she was born for this life. Her voice was fluid, poised, sharp. I only sat beside her, sharp and ready to take over the conversation. I wasn’t fully listening to her. My eyes were only on her lips. The way she smiled enough to charm but not enough for softness. The way her fingers tapped on her arm rest as the minister lied. She was composed, intelligent and unrattled.

I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss her or ruin her calm.

Day Three:

I caught her standing in the garden at dawn. Barefoot on the cold stone, her robe clinging to her frame like a mist from above. She was talking to one of the gardeners, kneeling beside a half grown vine and brushing off the frost with her fingers. I couldn’t speak to her again. I only watched from behind a pillar. My heart beat slow and uncertain. She smiled at the vine like it was a child. Something about it struck me as dangerous. Not because she was weak but I had seen that smile before, just not from her.

Day five:

We passed in the corridor. Her ladies trailed behind her in a flurry of whispers and silk. She didn’t bow or stop. She only glanced at me the way she always has. Eyes calm, mouth unreadable and chin held high. I caught myself turning just to keep looking at her. The hall was cold and I was already running late to my meeting. But the back of her neck was exposed from the weight of her hair. It somehow burned my eyes, all I could do was clench my jaw and keep walking.

Day seven:

The court is watching her now. The ministers, the concubines, the guards. They all are seeing what I see now. What I hate that I see. She’s been moving around the palace and the air has shifted around her. She’s been answering questions I haven’t even asked. She laughed in court today and the whole room froze. Like they have forgotten that laughter is allowed. Her gaze finally caught mine today as if she was finally seeing me admiring her. I couldn’t look away.

Day ten:

I stood in the doorway of her study tonight. She didn’t notice me. She was curled in her chair, barefoot, hair down and robes tied loosely around her. Reading something with her lips slightly parted. There was no crown in sight, no guards, no masks. Just her. I hated how badly I wanted to step inside. To ask her what she was reading, to see her read aloud. To hear her voice that has filled the silence since her arrival. I turned and left. I can’t speak to her yet.

He sighed as he finished his writing, getting ready to scrap it. He took a deep breath before finally summoning someone. He rarely did, especially after midnight. But he knew Yunho would arrive without hesitation.

His study was dim, lit only by the dull glow of oil lamps and a dying fire. Mingi stood by the window, one hand on the frame and the other holding a glass of untouched wine. He didn’t speak at first, as if he was trying to gather the words he wanted to say.

Yunho waited on him, like he always did. “You’ve served me for years.” Mingi finally spoke, voice low and worn thin. “Tell me something honestly.”

Yunho glanced towards him. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“What do they say of her?” Mingi paused. “The empress.”

Yunho blinked, hands folded behind his back. “They believe she’s dangerous.”

Mingi scoffed under his breath as he turned to face Yunho. “Because she has a brain?”

“Because she’s made you unpredictable.” Yunho’s voice was soft.

Mingi’s jaw clenched. He stepped away, pacing as he drank the wine in one slow gulp. “She speaks like a sword.” He muttered. “Cuts through everything. Walks through my halls like she has built them.”

“And that bothers you?” Yunho’s asked carefully.

“It should.” Mingi mumbled.

Yunho tilted his head. “But it doesn’t.”

Mingi’s silence was enough of an answer. Yunho sighed through his nose, calm as ever. “You’ve been watching her.” He said, a touch of amusement in his tone. “You’ve think we don’t notice but we have.”

The emperor before him didn’t respond, only curled his fingers at his sides. “Is she the kind you fall for?” Yunho questioned again.

Mingi looked up sharply, something flickering in his eyes. A pause before his voice came through, low and like a confession. “She’s the kind that ruins men.”

Yunho’s calm expression didn’t change. “Maybe it’s time someone has ruined you, Your Majesty.”

His final words followed him like smoke from a snuffed out flame. Curling into the corners of the room before the door even shut. Mingi stood still, unsure whether it was defiance or unease that was making his stomach turn.

The sun was barely over the mountain tops when Yunho entered Mingi’s private courtyard. A place that few dared to enter without a summons. But Yunho never waited for his invitation.

Mingi sat under the canopy of twisted cypress trees, a single scroll in hand and a few others tossed to his side. His robes were tied looser than usual, the collar of his tunic undone and his hair falling into his eyes.

“You’re early.” Mingi muttered without even looking up, eyes studying the parchment in front of him.

“And you’re brooding.” Yunho replied before settling down next to him.

Silence stretched between them. The birds chirped as a breeze stirred the edge of Mingi’s sleeves. Yunho watched him carefully, waiting for the silent Mingi to say a word.

“You haven’t spoken more than a few words to her after the wedding.” Yunho sighed at him.

“She hasn’t required words.” Mingi replied without looking at him. As if this conversation was boring him. “She knows her role.”

Yunho tilted his head to the words he was hearing. “And do you?” He couldn’t help but question.

Mingi’s gaze snapped up to look at him finally. His eyes dark and annoyed. “Don’t start.”

“You need to talk to her.” Yunho was almost pleading.

“I don’t need to do anything.” Mingi raised an eyebrow.

Yunho scoffed. “You’re lying to yourself so loudly it’s giving me a headache.” He tried not to laugh.

“This isn’t your concern.” Mingi exhaled.

“It became my concern when you started looking at her across the courtyard like she was a ghost you’d never be able to catch.” Yunho’s voice was careful.

Mingi stood up abruptly. His feet moving quickly to the fountain, away from Yunho. His fists curled at his sides.

“She’s getting under your skin.” Yunho kept pressing. “You won’t admit it but every time she walks past you, every time she speaks-“

“Enough.” Mingi turned sharply with an edge in his voice. “I won’t be dragged into some foolish infatuation just because she knows how to play with words and walk like she owns the sky.”

Yunho stood, calmer than his friend. “You already are.” Mingi said nothing as he breathed hard, his robe clearly moving. Yunho crossed the space that Mingi created. “You’re afraid of her.”

The silence cracked like ice. Mingi’s jaw tightened and his eyes flickered. A vulnerable look, just for a split second. “I’m not afraid of her.” His voice was low.

“No,” Yunho said gently. “You’re afraid of what she sees when she looks at you. You’re terrified she may be right.”

Mingi couldn’t look at him anymore. “I need to go.” He muttered before storming off.

He didn’t want to talk, just wanted to bury himself in papers that made his brain turn to mush. He sat down in his war council chambers. Soaking in the silence.

Candlelight flickered along the lacquered table. Maps lay rolled and forgotten about next to the pots of ink and broken seals. Mingi stood up, finding comfort by the window, the moonlight gracing his face.

“Are you going to keep pretending I don’t exist?” Your voice startled him as he looked at you. “Or is this some new game the great emperor plays with his toys?” You spoke low and strong.

He stilled, hands dropping from the windowsill. His gaze met yours with the same power as the crown on his head did. “You’re not a toy.” He spoke quieter than you had expected. “And I’m not playing.”

“Then what is it?” You asked, stepping closer to him as your hands clenched at your sides. “You watch me in silence. Hover in the corridors, look at me like you want to rip me apart. But you never say a damn word. You married me, Mingi. Maybe you didn’t have all of the say but you still chose to follow through.”

His expression flickered. No one’s used his name that way, not even Yunho. “You presume too much.” He said, lacking the venom he usually spoke with. His voice sounded unsure.

“No.” You shot back. “I feel too much. You? You’re terrified of it. Terrified of me.”

He moved towards you, not slowly or gently but like a man reaching the edge of something he said he’d never fall into. “You think you know what I fear?” His whispered, leaning into your ear as his breath fanned on your cheek. “You think I fear you?”

You didn’t move, not even a flinch. “Yes.” You responded simply. “Because I see you. The man under the crown. The boy raised on silence and blood. I see all of it and it terrifies you that I don’t look away.”

His jaw clenched, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to reach for you or shove you away.

“Say something.” You whispered. “Anything. Hate me. Want me. Just stop standing in the shadows like a ghost in your own palace.”

He stretched the silence, thick with words he didn’t quite know how to say. He stood up, looking around the room before he finally spoke again. “You undo me.” He spoke quietly, his voice raw like it hurt to admit. “Every time you speak, every time you look at me. I lose a piece of myself. I don’t know who I am when you’re in the same room as me.”

Your breath caught, fighting the urge to soften. You stepped closer, eyes locked with his. “Then come undone. Let me see what’s left when the crown isn’t holding you together.” Your voice was gentle.

Both of you standing there, chests rising, eyes locked and hearts racing. He still couldn’t touch you and in the oddest way. That restraint was the most intimate thing of all.

The palace was quiet in a way that only happened deep in the night. When the flames in the lanterns seemed to sway slower. You sat at the window, watching the moonlight ripple over the courtyard tiles. It was the kind of stillness that made every sound sharper. Footsteps, distant doors sliding open, the low groan of wood under weight. You knew before you turned your head that it was him.

Mingi stood outside of your chamber door, cloaked in shadow and contemplation. The guards bowed and stepped aside without a word. No one questioned him anymore. He was the crown and whatever he says is what goes. The silence followed him as he entered.

He didn’t knock, just simply opened the door. You sat over at the window, watching as he came in. Your hair half down, robe loosely tied. “Couldn’t sleep?” You questioned him.

He closed the door carefully behind him. “You always know I’m coming.”

“Because you walk like a storm. The air shifts before you enter.” You looked at him.

He couldn’t help but still stare at you. No court paint, no jewels, it was just you. Real, quiet and untouchable in a way that made his breath catch. He didn’t say anything. You could only let the silence settle for a little bit.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You said softly.

“I came here, didn’t I?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Half of you did.” You shrugged.

He moved towards you, slowly and carefully. As if one wrong move would make the fragile truth between you collapse. Once he stopped in front of you he was close enough to touch you. But he didn’t. He kept himself at the normal distance of almost touching. “Why do you want this?” He asked, voice sounding as if it was crumbling. “Why do you want me?”

“Because you try so hard to not feel, but I know you do. You feel everything, Mingi. You just hide it behind duty, silence and cold wine.” You replied without hesitation.

He stared at you like you were language nobody has ever taught him. His hand rose slowly, hovering near your jaw. You leaned into it, just slightly. A breath passed between you. Your eyes dropping to his lips as his gaze flicked between your eyes and mouth. It would’ve taken nothing. A tilt of his head, a slip of restraint. But he didn’t move, and neither did you.

You both stood there, breath brushing against one another, tension hanging like silk on a blade. “If I kiss you,” he whispered. “I won’t stop.”

Your lips parted, trying to think of words as it felt like your whole world just tilted. “Then don’t.” You whispered.

You watched as he stepped back and it felt like you were suddenly falling. You stood there alone, lips tingling with the kiss that never came, heart aching with the weight of what just almost happened.

You couldn’t sleep afterwards. It was hard to turn your brain off after seeing him so raw in front of you. You slipped through the halls of the palace as everyone was fast asleep. The hem of your robe floating over the stones, the cool air wrapping around you like a secret.

You took a deep breath as you rounded the corner. The walls felt like a sanctuary, the silvered leaves and night flowers. The inner garden was the one place you could go for pure solitude. Most in the palace had forgotten about it after sunset. You looked up over at the lantern lit path and froze. Mingi was standing there. Emperor Song, half man, half shadow.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, robes undone around his throat. No guards or Yunho. Just him and the moonlight that was making him look too human. “You always find the places I run to.” He spoke, low and quiet. It felt like he was waiting for your arrival.

You stepped closer to him, each breath leaving your lips feeling a bit heavier. “Or maybe you leave trails.” You murmured. “Hoping someone will follow.”

He turned to look at you. A look in his eyes that was nothing like an Emperor. It was a man undone. “Why are you here?” He finally asked.

“Why are you?” You returned. Both of you standing facing each other underneath the plum tree yet to bloom. The air between you buzzed with something delicate and dangerous. His eyes finally shifted away from you.

“This place was hers.” His voice quiet, like he was ready to tell you a story. “My mother. She planted the trees, said it was the only place in the palace that didn’t lie.” The corners of his lips curling into a smile.

Your breath hitched with the unexpected softness. “And does it still feel honest to you?” You whispered.

He gave a hollow smile. “Lately, nothing does.”

You stepped forward, slow and steady until you were close enough to him. Close enough to see the tired shadows under his eyes. “You left me.” You whispered. “Earlier. When I told you not to.”

His eyes locked with yours. “If I stayed,” he started. “I wouldn’t have stopped.”

You nodded, soaking in his words. “And now?”

He paused. The longest one shared between you. “Now I’m already breaking,” he said, voice wavering. “And I think so are you.”

You didn’t deny it, just reached out and touched his hand. Not going for his face or chest. Just the back of his hand, warm, steady and trembling beneath your touch. He watched your touch like it hurt. Then slower than the blooming process of that plum tree, he turned his hand. His palm against yours as he held you. Not tightly or possessively but like he was afraid to let go.

The garden was still. The rare, sacred kind that only existed in moments before something changed forever. Your fingers still wrapped around his. Mingi still hasn’t moved, all he could do was stand there and stare at you. Watching you like you were a dream that had slipped into his hands, too solid to ignore and too fragile to hold tightly.

The space between you was small. Not the usual length of the throne room or the width of silence. Just inches, for once. Your thumb brushed over the back of his hand softly. He let out a breath like it had been locked inside of him for years. “Say it,” your voice was timid, not sure what you were asking for.

“I can’t,” He replied, but he still moved closer to you. Until his chest was nearly brushing against you. Making you tilt your chin to look at him in the eyes. There was no command in his gaze now. No arrogance, no performance. Only longing and fear. “I don’t know how to do this,” he murmured.

“Then let me show you,” your voice trembled slightly. You rose slowly, giving him the time to move away but he didn’t. Instead, his hand lifted-hesitating at first. Then threaded through your hair, fingers trembling. He leaned in, forehead resting on yours, breathing shallow.

Then you finally felt his mouth on yours. Desperate. A quiet aching kind of desperation. Like he’s been holding this hunger in for so long. It has eroded everything but this moment. His lips moved against yours softly, as if asking for permission even now.

You let him have it. Sighing into him, pressing your hand on his chest where his heart thundered like a storm cages beneath silk. The kiss deepened, his other hand finding your waist. Pulling you in, not tightly but just enough for you to feel him. The want, the fear, the need. When you finally parted it was breathless and stunned. He didn’t speak and neither did you.

You both stayed there, foreheads pressed together. The silence heavier around them heavier than any crown. It didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like the beginning of something real.

The changes between you started. Subtle unless you knew him, and Yunho did. So did the ministers who once feared speaking out of turn. So did the head court lady who now found the emperor suddenly so impatient when the empresses’s tea arrived late.

Mingi had stopped interrupting you in court. Stopped glaring when you offered a different point. He listened now. Worse- he lingered.

In private it was more difficult to keep away from each other. His fingertips ghosting your jaw line as you whispered to him at night. Your hand resting on his chest longer than necessary after adjusting his top. No one else touched him like that. Nobody could.

In your chambers, the air changed the moment he stepped inside. There were no guards or titles. Just silk layers slipped from your shoulders and his lips that would linger on your skin. He kissed like he was starving. Your conversations now soft and muddled between kisses and midnight laughter.

“They’re starting to notice.” You whispered one night, fingers interlaced when his hair.

“Let them.” He said, pulling you close to his body. “They can’t take this from me.”

You believed him when he said it, not because of the certainty in his voice. It was the way his hand stayed pressed against yours long after the last words were gone. Still, you could feel the air shifting —warmer now, heavier. It was dangerous, this closeness, and yet you let it wrap around you like the familiar silk. Whatever was beginning to build, you were no longer afraid of it.

Your heart always fluttering as he watched you in court. It was like he finally acknowledged that you were no longer a political move, you’re his bride. His Empress. Now when a minister raised his voice at you, his hand would twitch. Just once but enough for the whole room to fall silent.

Yunho would always watch. Seeing the way his eyes followed you without a smile, watching as you took your seat beside him. He finally stood next to Mingi as you sent off a foreign envoy. Your laughter carrying in the wind as Mingi watched you. “She’s making you soft,” Yunho said quietly yet his amusement was loud.

“She’s making me better.” Mingi corrected. A twitch in his lips as he smiled for a second.

“That’s what I said.” Yunho smirked.

Dawn spilled over the palace roofs in soft gold but the corridors hummed with something colder. Whispers trailed ahead of you, curling into alcoves before you could catch them. Ministers bowed as you passed, eyes lowered in respect but failed to mask the curiosity. You could feel it gathering, pressing, waiting for its moment in court. Mingi’s hand brushed yours once in passing. Wordless, deliberate, but meaningful before entering the court together.

The court chamber was packed with murmuring voices, scrolls being passed around. The shuffle of stuff silk sleeves and careful glances. Mingi sat in his usual place. High, distant and surrounded by the ministers waiting like vultures waiting for a shift in the wind.

You sat beside him in your own throne, regal and composed. Until the subject changed. Until the minister of traditions stepped forward. Old, steady and daring as he stopped a few feet from the dais. He bowed low as he spoke with the kind of slow confidence that made your skin tighten.

“Your Majesty. Your grace.” He nodded towards both of you. “It has been several weeks since the union. As the council has long awaited stability in the bloodline. It is our humble request to ask: when may the empire expect its heir?”

The words splashed like stone into still water. Everything stilled and felt silent. Your fingers twitched against the armrest as Mingi’s jaw tensed. The chamber fell too quiet. Yunho’s eyes flicked up from his spot next to the throne- examining everyone in the room.

Your expression remained blank but there was a burn in your chest. Mingi couldn’t look at you, clearing his throat as he stood up. “The matter of succession.” His voice was even. “Is not a decision to be made under pressure.”

The minister bowed again. “Of course. Your Majesty, but the people grow curious. An heir would ease their minds.” His voice stayed calm.

You didn’t move. Your breathing felt too loud like you were suddenly aware of every glance. Every pair of eyes weighing your body like a vessel. Mingi still wasn’t able to look at you. “Dismissed.” Mingi’s eyes sharpened.

The minister stepped back without protest, but the tension still didn’t leave your space. It sat there, coiled between you. You walked with Mingi walked closely with you down the stone corridor. “They want a child.” You broke the silence, voice low and dry.

“No. They want control.” He replied quickly.

“What do you want?”

Your words made him still. He looked at you, truly looked. There was something raw in his eyes, unsure. “I want…” he started, then closed his mouth and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

You nodded, jaw clenched to hold back the ache in your heart. “Neither do I.” You half-heartedly admitted. You stood there next to him. Close enough to touch but didn’t. Intimacy in private was one thing, but duty? That was a war neither of you were ready to fight.

You walked away, heading to your chambers as he went to his. Your heart pounding as you kept thinking. The hours going by as you curled on your bed. “Empress?” There was a small knock on the door.

“Yes?” You responded quietly as the door slid open. “Do you need anything?” Your maid looked at you. “Can you get me the emperor?” You swallowed, realizing what your ask was as she bowed, leaving to go on her way.

Mingi entered within moments, a soft slide of the door. You sat on the edge of your bedding, still dressed from court but your hair undone. Your fingers twisted in your lap. You still didn’t look at him as he walked over, squatting in front of you.

For a long moment, the only sound was coming from the crackle of the fire and the faint buzz of insects outside. “I’m sorry,” Mingi spoke softly.

Your eyes lifted to meet his. “For what?” You asked softly.

“For letting them speak of you like that. As if you were like nothing more than…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words as his jaw clenched. “A name in their plans. I should’ve stopped it sooner.”

“You didn’t have to.” You spoke softly. “It’s what they want. What they expect. Even I was expecting it eventually.” You whispered.

His hand cupped your cheek. “But it’s not what I want. Not like this.” His voice was gentle.

“You don’t want an heir?” You questioned surprised at his words.

“I don’t want pressure.” His voice cracked slightly, the edge of command gone. “I don’t want to touch you and wonder who’s watching from behind the curtain. I don’t want to hold you and feel like I’m being measured.”

Your chest rose and fell at his words and his thumb brushing softly on your cheek. “I want you.” He said. “Not because you’re my empress. Not because they demand it. Just because I can’t not want you anymore.” His voice was full of lingering.

You swallowed. “Then why haven’t you come to me?” You stared into his soft brown eyes, the way they rounded when he spoke to you.

His eyes lowered from yours. “Because now when I look at you, I don’t just feel desire.” His voice dropped. “I feel fear.”

You didn’t speak just yet, knowing he had more to say. “What we had. It was ours. Quiet, private, safe. But now the world is really watching. They’ve taken something from us.” He met your eyes again as he spoke carefully. The look he had starting to burn.

“I’m scared.” You whispered. “Scared that if we give in now, it won’t feel like us. It’ll feel like duty. Like performance. Like the world is getting what it wants.”

His hand still pressed to your cheek, aching sadness. “Then we don’t let them take it yet.” he whispered. “We don’t give them this. Not until it is fully ours.”

You leaned into his palm, nuzzling into him. “You still want me?” You questioned softly.

He nodded. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He smiled at you.

“Then stay. Stay tonight, don’t touch me if you want.” Your voice cracked.

He wrapped his arms around you, gently putting his face on your shoulder. “I’ll stay forever if you let me.” He whispered.

You smiled as you held him there and he could sense hesitation in your breath. “What’s on your mind?” He asked, pulling away from your shoulder.

You swallowed, looking him in the eye. “I want you.” You paused. “I’m scared though.”

He stilled, not pulling away anymore. “Of me?” He asked quietly.

“No.” You put your hand on the side of his face. “Of what it means. Of what comes after… or what if I fail?” Your voice wavered, hand moving away from his face.

His brows furrowed. “Fail what?”

“Fail to give them what they want. A child.” You hesitated, voice barely audible.

Mingi suddenly seemed to have slumped over. His hand gently cradled your face. “Y/N.” His voice was firm and gentle. “That’s not why I’m here. That’s not what this is.”

“But the court-“ You started.

“Damn the court.” His jaw clenched. “They don’t get to claim this part of us. They don’t get to twist it.”

You blinked, eyes glassy now. “So what do we do now?” Your voice was quiet.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. His thumb brushing your cheek softly. “We try. We touch. We kiss. We fall into each other because we want to. Not because anyone is waiting outside the door with a scroll and a name for the future heir.”

You exhaled shakily. “What if I still can’t…?” You started.

“Then we keep trying, without fear. Without punishment. Without this-“ He paused to place a kiss to your lips, slowly and grounding you. “-into something it was never meant to be.”

You closed your eyes and when he kissed you again, it was deeper. Not rushed or mechanical. Just the two of you. His hands were warm as they slid down your back, pulling you closer. Your lips parted to his touch, welcoming the touch of him, the reassurance of his feeling.

You shifted onto the bed, lying back. Mingi climbed on top of you. Ridding of his top as he hovered above you. His hands on the side of your face gently. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He whispered against your lips.

You shook your head slowly as you looked at him. Looking at each part of new skin in front of your eyes. “I don’t.”Your body trembled slightly under him and he felt it.

“You’re scared.” He whispered.

“Not of you.” You looked up at him breathlessly. Your hand reached up, tangling in his hair, cradling the back of his neck. “Just…I’ve never given myself to anyone like this.”

His breath hitched. His heart clenching for a moment, honor, protectiveness, want. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek and on your neck. “Then let me show you how this feels.” His voice was gentle.

His mouth found yours again. Kissing like he was memorizing the shape of you, like kissing you was a prayer he finally had permission to say aloud. His hands slid down your arms, then back up to the silk at your waist. The robe parting, baring you to the moonlight. “You’re so beautiful,” he smiled at you, saying it like it was a secret he shouldn’t be sharing.

His lips gracing each part of your skin. You let out his name breathlessly as he kissed your chest. His hands continued to explore your curves with aching patience. Your eyes fluttering shut at his touch. His hands still moving around your figure, exploring every part of you that was new to him.

“Let me feel you. Let me love you, without worry. No fear. Just us.” He whispered.

Your thighs parted for him like instinct as he pulled off your skirt. His finger gently ghosted your slit. You whimpered softly as he watched you carefully, making sure you were still comfortable. Carefully spreading you as his thumb gently padded your sensitive nerves.

You whimpered and he bit his lip hearing you. His middle finger still rubbing down your entrance. “So warm.” He kissed you. “So wet already.” He exhaled.

His middle finger pushed in slowly as he kept watching you. Your back arched as you whimpered. “That okay?” He mumbled as he kissed down your neck. You nodded quickly, hips moving for more of the sensation. He curled his finger slightly, kissing down your shoulder as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

Your mouth parted, eyes still fluttering shut as the pleasure bloomed. “Look at me,” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I want to see how you’re taking me.” He murmured.

He slowly added a second finger, slow and easing you open. Wet sounds began to fill the room as you whimpered, pressing your lips together. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing in sync with his fingers moving inside of you. You cried out his name.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me hear you.” He encouraged as he felt himself throbbing. Your thighs clenching around his wrist as you whimpered.

“Mingi- please,” you whined out. He kissed your temple, carefully pulling his fingers out. He kissed your neck softly, letting his lips trail down your body until you tugged at his pants.

His breath caught as he pulled away just to look at you. “Are you sure?” He whispered.

You nodded, cheeks still flushed from him touching you. He didn’t rush himself as he stood up. You watched as he stood bare before you. Tall, broad and stunningly built. Your eyes kept traveling down and your breath hitched.

He was…big. To say the least, thick and heavy between his thighs. His cock curved slightly, already hard and flushed at the tip. The skin tight with arousal. For a moment you didn’t breathe, all you could do was stare. Your thighs instinctively clenched.

“Too much?” His voice was soft as he noticed you.

“No..I just didn’t expect…” You swallowed.

He moved, knees on your sides as he took your hand and carefully placed it on his chest. “I’ll go slow. I’ll stop if it hurts. Just trust me. Okay?” He stared at you like the most precious thing on earth as you nodded.

He moved again, careful with every movement as you spread your legs again. His body hovered above you, heat and want rolling off of his skin as he kissed your jaw and neck. You gasped slightly as you felt his thick head pressing on your entrance. Your whole body reacting to the feeling, pulsating, tightening and needing.

“Easy.” He whispered, eyes locked on yours. “Breathe for me.”

He began to push inside of you slowly. Just the tip stretching your walls already. You clenched around him from the sheer fullness of it. You whimpered at the feeling, digging your nails into his back.

“You okay?” He looked down at you, eyes searching for permission to continue.

You nodded quickly. Tears prickling the corners of your eyes, not from the pain but from the sheer intensity. “K-keep going.” You stuttered. “I want all of you,” you whispered.

He nodded, pressing his forehead to yours. He groaned slightly as he eased himself into you. Inch by inch, you felt your walls spreading further and further to accommodate for his size. It was almost overwhelming. So much of him, so deep already and he hadn’t even fully bottomed out yet.

“You’re so tight,” he panted, his voice cracking. “Fuck you feel so good. I don’t want to hurt you.” He cursed as he slowly pulled back.

“You’re not going to.” You whispered. “I want to feel you. All of you.” Your voice was strained with heat.

He leaned down to kiss you. Desperate like he couldn’t hold back anymore and finally after a deep breath on your lips he sank his hips into yours. Your walls were aching already, body adjusting stretching so wide you felt impossibly full.

You moaned his name softly as his hands held your hips carefully. Your fingers tangled in his hair. He was just slightly trembling above you. “You took me so well,” he murmured, lips brushing against your temple. “You were made for me.”

You gasped as he slowly moved back. His thick length dragging across every nerve inside of you. You were holding back screams of his name and only let out muffled sobs. He groaned low in his throat. Rocking his hips into yours slow and deep.

Each thrust was stretching you again, slow and deliberate until your body was pulsing around him. “Mingi-,” you whimpered, still trying to keep your volume down.

He shushed you softly, leaving gentle kisses around your face. “I’ve got you.” he whispered. “You feel so good around me, so warm. I don’t want to ever leave this.” His voice gentle.

His thrusts became deeper, wanting you to feel everything he had to offer. His hips rolling in you with steady rhythm. The sounds of your body’s hitting filling the room with every thrust. His size wasn’t something you were beginning to fear. It was something you were already beginning to crave.

“Tell me how it feels.” He asked, biting his lip as he groaned in your ear.

“s-so good.” You swallowed. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.” You spoke between moans.

That did something to him. He pushed deeper, hands gripping your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him even deeper. The pressure inside of you built fast. Your body tightening around him as your release crept closer. “Come with me,” he panted, hips still moving into yours. “Let me feel you fall apart on me.”

You did without hesitation. You cried out his name as your body convulsed. Pleasure tearing through your body in waves as you fluttered and clenched around his cock. Mingi followed right after, thrusting deep and groaning into your neck. Filling you full of his warmth, his love, his everything.

Neither of you moved, not for a few minutes. You stayed joined, your fingers tracing down his back as his lips brushed your collarbone. “You’re mine now,” you whispered, eyes soft and filled with tears that dared to spill out at the realization.

“I always have been.” His voice was low, and breathless as he answered like a promise.

You smiled to yourself as you shut your eyes. Finally not feeling restless as he laid next you. Your breathing was slow and even as you curled up underneath the silk sheets. Mingi couldn’t look away. He laid next to you, admiring the way he could see the slope of your back in the last few moments of candle light.

His hand rested on the sheets where your body was just tangled with his. He should’ve been exhausted but his heart was still racing with excitement. He looked down at his palm as if tingled remembering the feeling of you. How you looked at him when he touched you for the first time. It felt like something he could only dream of.

It wasn’t just sex. Wasn’t just your first time. It was the first time he’s ever made love. He knew the difference now. He carefully leaned over, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face as he placed a gentle kiss to your temple. You didn’t stir but your lips parted. Sighing his name in your sleep.

His throat tightened. “What did I do to deserve this?” he whispered. “To deserve you.”

No one would ever see him like this. Not the court, not his advisors. Not even Yunho, but here in the candlelight as he laid beside you. Bare and undone, he was nothing but yours. He slipped his hand under the covers, resting it on your hip just to touch your skin. “I’ve never had something that’s felt like home,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

You stirred, mumbling his name again. Your hand found his beneath the sheets and held it. All without waking up. He exhaled through his nose, lips twitching into a smile. “If this is what love is,” his voice was still quiet and gentle. “I would go to war over and over just to come back to this moment.”

Finally, as the candlelight died, he moved closer to you. His arms circled your waist as your breaths synced again. And for the first time in years- he was able to sleep with ease.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was warmth, not from the sun but from Mingi’s arm draped over your waist. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing against your back. You blinked sleepily as you remembered the night before. Every kiss and every whispered word. The way he moved inside of you with reverence, making you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You turned slightly, just to see him. Mingi was already awake. His hair messy as it fell into his eyes. He was watching you with a softness you’ve never seen before. “You didn’t sleep much,” you murmured.

His lips curved faintly. “I didn’t want to close my eyes.”

“Why not?” You laughed softly.

He leaned closer, brushing his nose on yours. “Because I was afraid I’d wake up and last night would’ve been just a dream.”

Your chest tightened as you listened to him. His hand traced along your waist, fingers going under the sheets to drag along your hip. His touch was gentle, as if he was memorizing you all over again. “Are you sore?” He asked suddenly, eyebrows knitting with concern.

“No. Just…warm. and full.” You smiled softly, cheeks faintly blushing. Your body was aching in the most beautiful way but telling him would only cause him to worry.

He smirked slightly, though his eyes stayed tender. “Good. I never want to be anything but gentle with you.”

You smiled at him as you pressed your lips to his. Kissing him soft and slow, the faint taste of sleep on your lips. His hand cupped your face like you were something precious. You pulled away and smiled up at him, fingers lacing in his hair. “So what happens now?”

Mingi smiled at you, pressing his forehead to yours. “Now?” He teasingly questioned before dropping his voice down. “Now I get to spend every morning loving you better than I did the night before.”

You flushed, burying your face in his chest. But his laugh was so deep and warm that you had to look up at him again, just to see that smile.

“We should dress.” He murmured after a moment.

You nodded with a forced pout. “Do we have to?”

He laughed at you as he slowly stood up, dressing himself in last nights clothes. “We do have to attend to our regular duties.”

You sat up, holding the sheet to your chest. “Loving each other like that is a duty.” You said with playfulness as he smiled at you again.

“We will meet later. My Empress.” His voice was oozing temptation as he slid out behind the door.

The door slid shut behind him, sealing in the faint scent of him—warm skin, wine, and something darker you could never name. You sat for a moment in the quiet, the sheets still tangled around your legs, replaying the way he’d looked at you like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Outside, the court was already stirring, their games and demands waiting for you both. But for now, you let yourself breathe in the silence, just long enough to pretend it would last.

The court was full again. Ministers murmuring in low tones across the tiled floor. Their robes brushing the stone as they bowed. Their eyes kept flicking to the thrones.

You sat quietly, off to the side like you were meant to just to be seen and not heard. Meant to be graceful, composed and distant. Court felt different though, because the Emperor couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

You could feel it. The warmth of his gaze burning into your cheek. When you finally dared to look over he didn’t avert his eyes like usual. A flicker passing between you. Candlelight. Silk sheets. Your lips moaning his name. Your heart jumped in your chest.

You lowered your gaze quickly. Pretending to smooth your sleeve but the damage was done. A few heads turned. The Minister of Records eyes narrowed. A younger official whispered something behind his hand. Yunho was watching from a far column, he said nothing. He didn’t need to. The soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth said everything. They knew.

Mingi stood up, moving to stand in front of you. You watched him carefully, quickly getting up before bowing gracefully. You could hear the whispers as Mingi reached for your hand, holding it gently in his. His lips gently pressing the back of your hand. Your cheeks flushed at the sudden affection. He knew they were watching, and whether they liked it or not, it was now undeniable. Their Emperor was in love.

You heard a throat clear as Mingi turned. Moving to sit back in his throne as Minister of traditions stood before you. “Your majesty. With the peace treaties in place and the provinces at a relative calm, the council would like to revisit the discussion of the heir.” His voice was unwavering.

You felt it before Mingi even shifted. Your stomach tightened.

“Following…certain whispers. We have been curious if the Empress is with child.” He never once looked at you as he spoke.

Mingi cleared his throat, standing up. “The whispers are true then. The Empress and I have shared a bed. But it was out of love, not to further the lineage.” His voice was strong as you watched a few people shift uncomfortably.

“You all speak of my future while insulting my present. She is not some vessel, nor a trophy. She’s my Empress. My wife. My love.” He gave everyone one final sharp look before taking your hand. “Let’s go,” he whispered as he pulled you out of your throne and down the hall.

“Mingi…” You started as he pulled you with him to his chambers. The door slamming behind him. The sound echoing in the chambers. He started to shrug off his robe, eyebrows cinched together in fury. “Mingi.” Your voice was gentle as you spoke again.

“How dare they speak like that. In front of you is worse.” His voice was low and raspy. “They think I can be manipulated. That’d I break you apart just to give them peace of mind.” He was loud but didn’t raise his voice all the way.

You walked closer to him, staring at the way his shoulders were tense. “They don’t understand.” Your voice was still calm as you reached to touch his back. His skin was hot to the touch as it burned in fury. You traced down his spine as he turned to look at you. His eyes storm black and tired. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” You whispered. “Let me take some of this. You’re not alone anymore.”

He shook his head, lips parting like he was going to argue. You were already rising on your toes, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. Just enough for him to feel and give in. He groaned against your lips, low and desperate. Then grabbed you, lifting you in one smooth movement, pressing your back against the wall. “Can you help me? Make me less tense?” He looked at you carefully as you nodded.

His mouth almost crashed back into yours. His kiss hungry and almost bruising your lips. His hands roaming your waist, your hips. Reaching under your skirt. You gasped as you felt his hand between your legs. Already warm and aching for him. He growled at the way your thighs were trembling around him. “You’re wet for me already?” he rasped against your throat. “You knew what I was needing.”

You nodded, unable to speak. His fingers found your core, two of them sliding in with practiced pressure as you moaned out. “Let them hear you.” He grunted as his fingers curled, pushing them in knuckle deep. He didn’t let up.

His fingers pumped into you hard and slow. The wet sounds filling the chambers. Your hand clawed at his back as you muffled your moans in his shoulder. His fingers kept moving as they worked you open for him again. “Say it,” He growled. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cried. Your head tipping back as his thumb found your clit, drawing slow, tight circles on it as your thighs began to shake. “Louder.” He commanded.

“I’m yours Mingi! F- Fuck!” You cried out as your hips bucked against his hand. You broke against his hand. Shattering as your walls clenched around his fingers. He kept curling them through your orgasm as you whimpered. His own breathing was ragged now, but he wasn’t done.

He pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, licking them slowly as he watched you. He let your legs hit the ground then leaned to your ear. “On the bed. Now.” He said hoarsely.

You nodded quickly, obeying him as your legs trembled. When he followed, bare, furious and starving. You let him take all of it. All of the frustration. All the love. All the fire he couldn’t show the world. Because behind closed doors, he belonged to you.

Morning has only broken through the heavy curtain when Yunho knocked. Entering with a quiet bow as his eyes flicked between the two of you. Your body draped in the sheets as Mingi sat beside you bare chested, his hair still unbound from the night before. Yunho cleared his throat, gaze staying respectful.

“Lord Taejun is requesting a private meeting.” He said carefully. “He insists it’s a matter of dynastic importance.”

Mingi’s jaw clenched the moment the name left Yunho’s mouth. He didn’t look at you right away. His hand brushed your lower back under the covers in reassurance. “Let him wait in the side chambers.” He said coolly. “And tell him I am not to be rushed.”

Yunho nodded and disappeared. When the door shut you looked at Mingi. “Dynastic importance.” You echoed like it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Mingi sighed, finally looking at you. “They’re starting to panic. They want to know if I’ve claimed you for love or lineage. If I’ll declare you as mother of my heir before your womb shows it.”

You blinked, throat tightening at the bluntness. But he was already moving, dressing swiftly in dark robes lined with gold. No crown in sight, yet the weight of his movements still heavy with power. He turned to look at you, “they’ll try to corner me. Try to bring up old things. But I won’t let them touch this.” His voice was low.

“What will you say?” You looked up at him.

He moved back over to the bed. “The truth,” his voice softened as he softly rubbed his knuckles on your cheek. His gaze steady. He kissed your lips softly then walked towards the door. “I’ll be back.”

He walked down the hall and slid open the door to the side chamber. Lord Taejun stood quickly. “Your Majesty.” He bowed, voice low and smooth but his eyes showed nothing but eagerness. “I appreciate your time. I only come with concern for the future.”

Mingi said nothing as he sat down, just gestured for him to continue speaking. “The court grows…uncertain. They respect the Empress, of course.” Taejun added quickly. “but the absence of a formal heir. Or a declaration leaves our line vulnerable. There are still those who remember your father’s law: that the bloodline must be visible, secure and blessed by counsel consensus.”

“My father is dead.” Mingi’s voice was even. “I am Emperor now.”

Taejun paused, slight hesitation in his voice. “Then…will you declare the Empress as the mother of the next heir?”

Silence fell like a blade. Mingi stood up slowly, stepping closer to him. His height making the older man instinctively bow his head. “When the time comes,” Mingi said calmly. “she will not need declaration. You’ll see it written across the palace in the way she walks.” He stared down at him.

Taejun’s throat bobbed. “And if the time doesn’t come?”

Mingi leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Then the empire falls with me. There is no line without her.” He turned and walked out, leaving Taejun to stand there in silence. Mingi’s message clear.

They are not allowed to question your place.

You still laid in bed, your top loosely wrapped around you. Hair half undone, the remnants of sleep and ache heavy in your limbs. Your eyes lifted as the door opened. Mingi smiled at you, not the emperor smile or the one he gave you in court. The version only you saw.

He walked over to your side, lowering himself onto the bedding. Shedding his top, only to press his body warmth on you. His hand ghosted over your waist as he looked at you. “Are you sore?”

You nodded faintly, lips curving with a small exhale of laughter. “You weren’t exactly gentle.”

Mingi leaned in, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. “You didn’t ask me to be.”

You hummed as his fingers traced small circles over your hips. Soothing where he had held onto you so tightly the night before. Faint red marks graced your skin, proof of how deeply he needed you. “Still,” he murmured. Moving as he kissed your ribs, then your stomach. “I should have taken better care of you after.”

You opened your mouth to speak but the apology already hung in his gaze, and something that looked like devotion. A quiet ache that was more vulnerable than anything he’s shown to anyone else. “Let me do it now,” he smiled.

He guided you to lay back on the feathered pillows. He gently pulled back your top, exposing your body to him. There was no urgency, no heat laced hunger, only reverence. His hands moved with purpose. He kissed every bruise, every mark. His thumbs rubbed down your thighs, easing the tension. You sighed in relief as he whispered praises into your skin. “You were so perfect last night,” he cooed, placing a kiss on your thigh. “You take me so well, love.” He kissed the other thigh as you flushed.

His hand still moved slowly on you. Tending to the soreness, soothing where you had swollen from his size. Tears fighting to spill out of your eyes as you watched him. No one has ever looked at you like this. Like you were the most sacred thing he’d ever been trusted to touch. When he was done he laid beside you again. Pulling you into his chest, where his heartbeat was steady and strong.

You didn’t want to be removed from this moment. The way Mingi’s arms enveloped around you. His strong arms and quiet breath in your ear made you want to melt into a puddle. Your body finally relaxing. The soreness still pulsating every now and then but his care had softened it. His fingers traced gentle patterns down your back as you lay half draped over him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his robe. “I want to have your child.” Your voice broke into the silence. Mingi’s breath caught, you felt it in the way his chest rose beneath your cheek. His hand on your back paused, then slowly held your waist. Tighter than before, like he was grounding himself. You shifted to look at him.

“Not because of them.” You said softly. “Not because of the court. I’m saying this because I want it. I want something that’s ours. Something that nobody can twist or try to take command of.” You reached up and cupped his face, his jaw ticking in your palm.

When his eyes met yours you saw it. Fear. “You think I’m saying this because of what they’ve said to you.” You whispered. Mingi’s throat worked as he swallowed, his fingers flexed on your sides.

“The council I just had with Lord Taejun.” He said, voice low. “He said if I didn’t take action soon he would find another way.” A bitter look crossed his face. “He spoke of lineage and threatened my throne in riddles.” You stared at Mingi as he spoke.

“I thought if you heard any of it I wouldn’t be able to bear it.” He shook his head “I don’t want this to feel like something you were pressured into. Like something you owe me or the court-“ He spiraled.

“Mingi-“ You cut through it, firm but calm. Your fingers brushed through his hair. “I don’t care about the court. I want you. I want to build a life and that decision lies just between us.” You exhaled. “Just us loving one another.”

Finals are over and done with, and summer is well under way. Your best friend Wooyoung invited you to the annual summer road trip that he and his other friends from the ATZ frat take every year. They rented a pretty decent sized SUV and would spend the weeks on the road, ending back on campus in time for the school's end of summer party. You always wanted to join them, since you were good friends with all 7 of Wooyoung's other friends, but you've been busy working and saving up money to get your own place off-campus. This year is the first year you find yourself free.

Everyone is super excited at the chance to finally go camping on the coast. Usually, they spend their time at amusement parks, small attractions and malls along the route. Hongjoong took charge of booking their cabin, and it would be big enough to accommodate everyone, even if some people might have to share a room.

There are plenty of ways this is gonna suck, namely being trapped in a moving vehicle, for hours on end with 8 guys. And by "guys," you mean idiots, whose idea of fun included pranks, drinking, and vulgarity. They are quite a wild bunch, but who are you to complain? You're just as rowdy as the rest of them, if not more. They never let you live down that one time you got shit-faced drunk and streaked the quad during finals week last year. The eight of them spent a majority of the trip retelling the story between laughs, much to your disdain.

You watch as Jongho, Hongjoong, and Mingi race against Yunho, San, and Yeosang to a spot towards the pier, dropping their things. The waves roll up against the sandy shores, creating a soft ambiance as you soak the sun's rays, inhaling the ocean air into your lungs. Wooyoung jogs up to join you at the bottom of the hill and catches the smile tugging at your lips.

The way the bright summer sunshine shimmers in your eyes is truly enchanting. How many times had he passed you in the hall on his way to class, secretly thinking about how much the way your whole face lit up resembled sunshine? You were friends with many of his friends, but you'd always been his best friend, ever since middle school. 

He has an embarrassingly long memory of you two on your first school trip, sharing a room at the hostel and staying up late after everyone had already gone to bed. He was the first person you told that you had a crush on his older brother, and you were the first person to console him after his first heartbreak. The two of you spent your whole high school years together; every game, every class, every important milestone... you were always the first one he shared them with. You would always be the first one he sought out when he had something exciting to tell someone. You've seen a lot together over the years, and even though he wasn't totally ready, the possibility of something developing between the both of you has always lurked at the edges of his mind.

"Don't you guys dare throw Y/N into the water!" Seonghwa’s shout interrupts the thoughts in his head. Wooyoung watches San and Yunho trying to sneak up behind you, waiting to snatch you and dive into the freezing cold water. You have absolutely no time to prepare as Yunho and San sweep you up and launch you over their shoulders. Your screaming is quickly drowned out as you land right in the chilling sea, coming right back up a few seconds later for air.

"Oh, you're dead meat! Get back here!!" You bellow. Your friends erupt into hysterics at your dramatic reaction to your unplanned swim. While the rest of the boys continue to laugh their asses off, Wooyoung swoops in and helps you out of the cold water. "I'm cold, Woo. Ugh."

"I'll help you get payback, later," Wooyoung reassures you as he wraps an arm around you and leads you towards Seonghwa, who has a towel at the ready. "Let's get settled into the cabin first, and then we'll figure out how we can exact revenge on the two clowns."

"Sounds good," you huff, still grumpy. Once you've finished getting dried off, Wooyoung picks up your small duffel bag and makes his way into the direction of the cabin. His hand meets yours, briefly, and he opens his palm. A slight jolt runs up his forearm when you interlace your fingers. 

Wooyoung also has an embarrassingly long list of memories involving how warm your palm feels when clasped together with his own. For some reason, he always remembers the feel of them better than all the other things. He knows his brain is playing tricks on him, trying to convince him that the way your palms perfectly fit together is because your body was made for him. In those fleeting moments of intertwined hands, a heat blossoms within the depths of his soul. If he was just a little bit braver, he would have closed his fingers over your hand, squeezed it, and refused to let go until there was no more fight left in you.

...But he wasn't that brave yet.

"Jongho, being the winner he is, wants a room to himself," Hongjoong explains after you enter the door of the cabin.

"I won fair and square," Jongho's eyes gleam at his friends, a toothy grin spreading across his cheeks, reminding the group that he demolished almost all the others at an impromptu arm wrestling competition before the trip. They really should've seen this outcome coming.

Everyone paired off in the room they chose. Hongjoong and Seonghwa choose the room closest to Jongho's, Yunho and Mingi claim the other room on the lower floor, Yeosang and San choose the room closest to the top of the stairs. You and Wooyoung take the room furthest down the hall and it overlooks the beach from the window.

You have your reservations about this part of the trip, mainly because you’re the only girl traveling with eight boys. You often share a room with Wooyoung and vice versa. It makes  perfect sense. The two of you know each other's boundaries and aren't afraid to bring each other down a peg when it comes to annoying the other. After dropping your bags next to the door, Wooyoung surveys the room with its king size bed.

"Shit," Wooyoung curses at the sight of the single mattress. "I knew there was a reason Hongjoong gave us that look..."

"Hongjoong has some issues and needs a swift kick in the head," you laugh. Your friends would often joke about you and Wooyoung hooking up, despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing going on between the two of you, much to the others' amusement. You and Wooyoung often fanned the fire with the way you flirted with each other and teased the others, but never did it ever come to anything real. 

But what if it did?

A loud stomach grumble disrupts the air of contemplation. Wooyoung erupts in laughter after hearing your stomach's announcement. "Let's go get some food in you," he sniggers and throws an arm around your shoulder to direct you out of the room. "Sounds like your stomach's ready to eat me at this point."

"At least you'll be a tasty meal!" You chirp before wrapping an arm around his waist and following him down the hall. Wooyoung hopes you can’t feel the slight tremble beneath his skin, caused by the excitement coursing throughout his body. The way you fit perfectly into his side causes a spark deep down in his gut. There’s no better feeling than that, in his opinion.

When you make your way into the dining room, the whole group is discussing what their first activity should be for the day. You're eager to take advantage of the summer season and soak in the sun and salt air, so you vote on finding a secluded spot for everyone to have a picnic. Since you'd rather spend your time in the great outdoors, the others agree to take advantage and spend the day playing sand volleyball and swimming in the ocean.

As the others are sorting through their belongings to get ready, you go to grab your bag with your bikini inside. You put on your bikini, and before you're able to grab a coverup, Wooyoung emerges into the room and announces his presence.

"Are you almost done? I've got a towel, my sunscreen..." His eyes meet yours in the full-body mirror, and he trips. "Shit," he hisses and nearly tumbles forward, just catching his balance before the two of you collide. A scarlet hue coats the tips of Wooyoung's ears and spreads onto his cheeks.

It's not like he hasn't seen you in a bikini in all his years of knowing you. His mom often threw pool parties during the summer, and the two of you spent an exorbitant amount of time together during childhood. But you look nothing like how he remembers, all these years later. Growing up, you'd been just like him, skinny and awkward. Wooyoung noticed you changing, slowly, as if nature itself had molded your curves carefully to perfection. It started when your clothes became too tight in places Wooyoung had no business looking at.

"Wooyoung? Hello, earth to Wooyoung," your hand appears in front of his face, fingers snapping to capture his attention. 

Wooyoung looks at the bikini, immediately averts his gaze and scrambles over to where his duffel bag is. "Uh yeah, I'm- uh, almost ready. Shit, uh... fuck I'm-"

"You're acting so weird," you mumble quietly. Wooyoung slips back into the bathroom to gather his composure. Even though he felt his soul nearly depart, his best friend shouldn't see him break, especially because it's only her wearing a bathing suit.

Once you're both ready to go, the whole group walks over to a secluded spot near the cove. There were some families out and about enjoying the sunshine and ocean breeze, but the stretch of beach you and the gang find yourselves in is mostly unoccupied. Hongjoong unravels the beach blanket, spreading it out for everyone to get comfortable. The others pass around the bottles of beer and snacks that everyone brought. The delicious scents of grilled meat fills the space, and the clinks of ice floating in their drinks compliment the lazy sound of the ocean breeze.

"Wooyoung! Can you put sunscreen on my back?" You ask as you sit down and hold out the bottle.

"We're in the shade. What good will that do?" He argues as he takes the bottle.

"Come on! Better safe than sorry!" You huff and pout a little in Wooyoung's direction. "Do it for me, please!"

"Fine. Fine," he relents and scoots himself up behind you. To be fair, he'd rather be the one doing this instead of any of the other seven hooligans. Wooyoung probably wouldn't forgive himself, had they gotten even the chance to run their hands over any part of your soft skin.

"Let me undo the straps so you can apply sunscreen there too," you mention as your hands trail to the back to loosen the knots. You're holding up the front of your bikini, and the image alone makes his mouth dry.

"Uh... um..." his breath is taken away, like how a gust of wind carries the strength to sweep the air from his lungs.

"Woo? Hello?" your giggle rings across the otherwise peaceful coast as you tilt your head to face the source of your amusement. "Help a friend out? I don't want to get burned, even if it is just a little sun."

Wooyoung blinks away and starts working the cool cream against your neck, focusing hard on keeping his touch as light as he could, before spreading it lower to the parts that are going to be most exposed to the sun. He makes his way down from your shoulders to your upper back and downwards. All the while, his senses were working overtime, registering the silk-like sensation of your skin, memorizing the precise way his fingers dragged along, but most of all, Wooyoung is hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment. Had anyone watched the interaction unfold, they might assume that he was just helping you apply sunscreen, like friends often did, but Wooyoung wasn't naive enough to completely deny the slight charge to his fingers at their first brush across your spine.

He's not in his right mind when his sunscreened fingers are reaching around your front and when his fingers brush against the bottom of your ample breasts. Your sharp intake of breath nearly short circuits him, sending a bolt of electricity directly through his cock, stiffening him in a second.

"Wooyoung...?" you voice quietly, letting the ends of the syllables hover in the space between you, "I think I'm all good now." You swallow as the hairs on your neck rise and a shiver rocks up from your belly, lingering on the delicious feeling of Wooyoung touching you like that, and the realization that something might happen, "I think I'd rather...put the rest myself." You offer gently.

"Ah yeah. Umm..." Wooyoung slowly slides his arm back, "Sorry I uh, slipped a bit," he smiles nervously and hopes that you can't read his thoughts as you face him once again.

"No harm done. Thanks, though!" you laugh and pat Wooyoung on the leg a few times.

You're not sure how, but the two of you manage to behave around one another and keep your feelings from showing throughout the rest of the afternoon. This might be hard, however, since whenever Wooyoung closed his eyes, all he could remember was the feeling of your hot skin.

What in the heck was that? As you walk away from Wooyoung in the direction of the shore, the space between your legs warms considerably as your heart rate picks up. You swallow at the memory of his featherlight touch grazing just beneath your breasts, as his front brushed up against your back. Your body reacts of its own accord, and your legs wobble and threaten to buckle. How the hell are you going to stay cool like this? Your blood boils with the heat rushing through your body, spreading, taking over. You turn the corner of a rock and dip beneath a shaded spot where you can catch your breath.

His hands were warm, so damn warm. And he was close. so damn close and... and his scent is making your brain a mushy, confused mess. As much as you would love to deny the warmth spreading between your legs and your fingers aching for you to take yourself over the edge, you're unable to. Fuck, fuck. If this keeps up... If he were to kiss you right now... you would let him.

Fuck.

You sigh out, try to calm the fuck down, and steady yourself against the cold stone of the cliffs. Once you've gathered the resolve, you make your way toward the group of your friends, who are currently deciding between a round of volleyball or a dip in the sea, or both. They are in various stages of removing clothing, eager to start their day at the beach. Wooyoung chooses that exact moment to join you guys and remove his shirt, making you falter a little before regaining your balance. The sharp angles of his face contrast the gentle waves of his bangs as they dance along his forehead, blown about by the ocean breeze.

You know your body is in deep shit the moment you see that his skin is flushed from the sun. 

Fuck. He's hot. 

With that revelation, a tiny bit of doubt rises up. This man isn’t anything like he was when you were teenagers, and it's suddenly glaringly obvious. Wooyoung isn't the kid you remember him being and neither are you. You're very clearly adults now and yet somehow... the feelings you had as a girl haven’t gone anywhere. Maybe Wooyoung isn’t aware of them yet, or perhaps he is, but you suddenly get a really strong sense that maybe you and Wooyoung are walking around with the same feelings, even as grown-ups now. It's incredibly unnerving, knowing what you know now, and knowing what's ahead, should he return your affections. It'd be really cool if someone told your stomach that, because it seems to be doing everything possible to throw your system out of whack right about now.

The sun, while merciful thus far, is nevertheless unkind in its attention to the lot of you. Mingi is the first victim, and boy was he a sight to see with a cherry red back, but before long, the group has endured its own round of sunburns. Ha, serves them right for not wearing sunscreen. 

Wooyoung hasn't really taken his eyes off of you, except to laugh at his suffering friends, and you really think about what it would be like if things went further and wondered if... well, if he had the same ideas about the two of you. If so, and you two ended up together, could things turn out okay between the both of you? You feel so lost when it comes to stuff like this because you and Wooyoung are essentially starting over from a zero base with each other, and honestly, it’s pretty overwhelming to be faced with the reality of that right now, and also what this summer holds for the both of you.

Your mind is swarming with ideas, when all of a sudden Seonghwa screams "DON'T YOU DAREー" as Wooyoung tackles you into the shallow waters, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of rice and running for a short bit before splashing into the water himself. 

"Not again!" You scream but a shriek quickly turns into hysterical laughter as the sea engulfs the both of you. He surfaces first and grabs hold of you as soon as you resurface as well. You're grateful the water's hiding your tears from his little stunt.

"Your hair's all messed up!" Wooyoung laughs, and then begins untangling some pieces of hair stuck between others. A rush of embarrassment washes over you, but is immediately cut short when he brings a strand up to his nose and smells it. His smile gets softer and warmer after. "Hmmm, you smell good."

"It's the sea, you dummy," you giggle.

"You smell like the sea, and your shampoo, and summer," he says simply, then continues combing through your hair until he's satisfied that he’s removed all of its tangles. "Okay, perfect!"

"Is Wooyoung a stylist too? He sure does know how to treat the ladies right!" San remarks loudly, catching the attention of the rest of the gang. 

You see their smirks, and it makes you groan out in annoyance. You really can’t give them any more kindling to encourage them to meddle with you and Wooyoung, or god-forbid... actually intervene, because who knows what type of matchmaking shenanigans your idiot friends are capable of?

Wooyoung laughs, a hand splayed across your back as you both make your way back out of the water and onto the beach. "She's an old lady and needed assistance in fixing her hair." 

"I am not old!" you complain. "My bones and back creak sometimes, though," you mumble under your breath.

"See? An old lady."

"Oh my GOD shut up," you shove Wooyoung as the group erupts into a laughing fit and you hurry towards Seonghwa who is offering a towel to you. "At least someone isn't mean!" you stuck your tongue out.

"Ready to go back?" Hongjoong asks and stretches, offering to help roll up the blanket. The sky is starting to turn a multitude of colors as the sun is setting on the other side of the ocean. As much as you all want to watch the sunset on the beach, the gentle breeze in the air turns cold in the evening, and the thought of sitting in a wet bathing suit is less than ideal.

"Can we swing by one of the convenience stores first? I think my stomach just started rumbling again," you pout.

"What kind of hunger monster is she?!" Mingi shouts, earning him a solid flick against the forehead from you.

"I promise I won't let my stomach bug you guys," you rub your belly, "but this monster will not be quelled until it gets its meal!"

"Greasy food it is. Let's go!" Seonghwa orders, effectively ending all complaints. Everyone heads in the direction of the road, grabbing their stuff and locking up the cabin.

As you're walking, Wooyoung presses his body up against your own, knocking his hip into your side a couple times. You'd been joined at the hip ever since you were kids; everyone around you used to say that the two of you were as thick as thieves. So when Wooyoung slides up next to you like this, it isn't weird. You wouldn't want it any other way. The only thing you would wish for is the ability to know what he's thinking when you catch the tail end of a soft smile adorning the handsome curve of his lips, and a dusting of a blush that graces the tips of his ears.

The gang piles into a family van and races towards the closest convenience store on the roadside. "No dawdling!" San screams as he hops out the sliding doors. "Get your food and then go back to the cabin!"

"Don't forget to pay!" Hongjoong screams through the open windows as you and the other boys hop out. Everyone grabs what they came for and rushes to the registers. As you're making your purchases, Wooyoung meets you at the register and begins laying out his own items, clearly giving the impression of two people on a date, making dinner together.

The cashier gives the both of you a smile, the corners of her mouth stretching further as she watches how Wooyoung interacts with you. You notice the way she keeps looking between you and him, the growing interest in how closely Wooyoung places his hand on your wrist to prevent you from grabbing your wallet out of your bag. 

"You two are on a date, tonight?" she questions.

"I don't know if I'd call it a date when we have those hooligans waiting for us," you giggle and point towards the van. Wooyoung joins in laughing as Hongjoong turns back to flip the two of you the bird, and Seonghwa slaps his arm to reprimand him.

"My mistake!" The girl beams brightly and smiles wide at the pair of you, "You two just look really cute, so I got my hopes up a little."

Wooyoung softly thanks her and intertwines his fingers with yours as he pulls you towards the parking lot to join your other friends. You don’t have a chance to hear the response that Wooyoung mumbles, but you do notice that his grip is a tad tighter.

"Took you two long enough. Sheesh!" Seonghwa complains as you climb back in.

"But now we can get to eating and eating!" Yunho says excitedly, "Back to the cabin!"

Dinner consists of beef bulgogi and white rice, with an assortment of kimbap rolls to share. No meal is complete, especially not around here, without alcohol, though, so you grab everyone a glass and pour the chilled beer. In the evening, it's often a comfortable warmth in your chest that spreads and blooms the longer you all spend time talking and laughing.

Everyone is well fed, and more importantly, they are buzzed after several glasses. The only thing that hasn't waned is how warm you feel deep inside, the fire stoking within your belly. You realize it's getting late, the hour growing later by the minute.

"Is anyone ready for the main event?" Yunho sings as he stands from his chair, setting aside his glass on the table. He's also a lightweight, and giggly drunk at that. "Truth or dare? Spin the bottle, truth and dare edition. When the bottle lands on you, either choose truth or dare, or drink. Got it?"

"Fuck. Why not? Bring it, Yunho," Yeosang says. The others are either cheering in excitement or groaning in frustration.

"How 'bout you, Y/N? In or out?" San questions as the group looks over at you, eagerly awaiting your response.

"Let's do this," you breathe out a little and crack the bones in your neck and stretch your fingers, getting ready to take whatever's thrown at you.

A few turns in and you've landed with a couple shots, a couple questions and a dare. Thankfully, no one has tried to take advantage of your current, inebriated state and went all out with questions. Most were pretty generic, if not a little boring. Seonghwa has a huge crush on their philosophy professor. Jongho secretly collects pornographic literature and owns a few magazines. Even though Mingi won a hand-stand competition, he can't keep his balance. Hongjoong has a list of every man, woman, and gender-neutral creature that has caught his attention. Yunho would wear a skirt, if someone asked him nicely. San once hooked up with their librarian in the supply room. Yeosang was actually dating one of the phys ed girls and it's going pretty well. And lastly, Wooyoung...

"Dare," Wooyoung chuffs out, proudly showing that he wasn't afraid of any of their stupid dares.

"Hmmmmm..." San, Yunho, and Yeosang immediately put their heads together. Wooyoung, unfazed and knowing them for too many years already, waits calmly as the three brainstorm what his fate will be.

"Make out with Y/N for a full minute!" they all shout simultaneously, each pointing to their victim.

"You shitheads are gonna be in big trouble next round," he grouches. The boys all howl with laughter as they watch the color rise on his cheeks, dusting his ear tips pink.

You know it's just a stupid little kiss. So what if your heart's beating fast? So what if your palms are already sweaty at the mere thought of touching his mouth? Wooyoung is attractive and has always had girls falling over themselves to catch a date with him. So you would never understand the magnetic pull that drags you closer, leaving a lingering uncertainty over exactly how close you should get to his lips.

But even now, his hands slide through the thick strands of your hair to gently pull your face closer. The warm sweetness of his breath grazes over your lips, and as the last strings of courage fade, the drunken haze slips away. You close your eyes, and when your lashes flutter, you're startled back into reality when the wet warmth of a hot tongue slips against your lips. Wooyoung makes it look easy, this kissing game. His fingers are tracing small circles on the nape of your neck, and you melt. The instant spark that flew up your spine and ricochets up against your skull leaves you weak. You sigh, the moan dying in your throat, and you fall deeper under the spell of his kiss. It's in that moment, you can sense something building between your bodies, creating an energy so palpable you'd swear your clothes could've ripped in an instant.

A cacophony of groans and exaggerated sounds of disgust infiltrates your moment, effectively bringing back everyone from your trance.

"Go to your room if you're not going to stop it there," Yunho pouts and turns his back on the two of you, covering his eyes for extra effect.

"Yeah, please continue somewhere where none of us have to see it," San waves his hands. The both of you are still staring at each other, your hand gripping tightly to his wrist as you scramble back into the space behind you, putting as much distance as possible between you and your best friend.

The game continues on, and you are able to laugh everything off. No one really pays you any mind, and the rest of the evening is just spent laughing and singing with some drinks. There are a couple of card games and a lot more truth-or-dares thrown around. By the end of the night, you find yourself already sleepy. The boys, all together, decide to continue their silly game a little longer while you excuse yourself from the table.

When you're almost in the bedroom, Wooyoung comes up behind you and grabs you. "So?" he asks, with his warm body enveloping you, arms and legs spread on either side of your frame, wrapping you up.

"Yes? What's up?" you whisper quietly, surprised he came to you, instead of staying with the others. He wants to ask you something but hesitates. He needs to get it off his chest, he thinks to himself, otherwise Wooyoung won't be able to sleep at night. "Wooyoung, do you want to go further?"

He doesn't answer and tightens his hold. The air grows warm and heady, swirling the longer the two of you stay stationary. Finally, you take his hand in yours and lead him through the threshold. It's dark, but there is still just enough light filtering through the slats of the window to give the two of you a vague idea of what you are seeing.

But before anything can really happen, you were both snoring into the pillows of your shared bed.

The van is loaded up, and you are heading towards the next destination on your road trip. After several hours, the group is collectively losing their minds. 

"Okay, let's switch. My butt is sore," San groans and pops his joints as he exits the driver's seat, turning it over to Yunho. The exchange doesn't last long, and before you know it, it's only noon and everyone was antsy as fuck and impatient and frankly, driving Yunho to the brink of his sanity.

It’s your turn to drive the rest of the way, and the boys are clearly anxious about letting you take the wheel. "No no, come on, Y/N, I think Yeosang will want another go at it."

"No, it's my turn to take the wheel," you flash the biggest smile and snatch the keys out of his hand. "Any complaints, speak now or forever hold your peace." You laugh evilly as the boys quiet and silently file into the vehicle. "We'll vroom vroom!"

"If you get a speeding ticket, I won't defend you. Just so you know," Jongho shouts at you from the back as you're peeling away at the highway.

"Yeah, yeah!" you shout back and set up the GPS before pressing play on your favorite driving playlist. "We'll be safe. Now, strap up and shut up. Time for the fun part!" You step on the gas pedal, and the tires squeal a little bit as the boys scream out their disapproval.

In the time that you drive to the next town, the group settles into their respective spaces for the remainder of the ride, occupying their phones for entertainment and keeping each other company, taking occasional detours from the car to use the restrooms and stretching out their legs at the stop areas along the way. At some point, the others in the back start to drift off and snore softly, and you smile fondly to yourself.

It’s already been a long day and everyone is so tired out that once they finally get a taste of peace and quiet, they fall asleep, heads swaying on top of shoulders or curled up at the window side, wrapped in the plush coats. Even Seonghwa's head has rolled to the side, his own jacket being used to prop himself upright and his mouth hung open in slumber.

Not that the quiet bothers you, because it’s soothing having your favorite music playing quietly in the background as you drive. Wooyoung is sitting in the passenger seat and isn’t quite asleep, but the relaxed state that his shoulders have eased into assure you that the journey to his next destination hasn't been an unpleasant one.

There’s no sound except for the snoring and the love song that’s playing in the background, the mellow voice soothing your souls.

Wooyoung takes your free hand and intertwines your fingers. "Is this okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah, it is," you hum gently in affirmation, and he tightens his grip, letting out a small content hum of his own.

As you continue to drive, Wooyoung remains wide awake, occasionally lifting the cup to sip on his iced coffee that has mostly melted by now. His eyes scan the landscape, watching as the horizon speeds past him. At this point, you can feel the slightest pressure at your core building again. But this time, it feels different; more powerful somehow. 

He notices and breaks the silence first. "Are we... gonna talk about it?" His tone is even and careful, and there are no hard edges to his voice like before, just a gentle prod.

"What's there to say, really?"

"Don't play that," Wooyoung mutters, shooting you a look that says 'Really?'

You sigh and wipe your palms, shifting your grip on the wheel as the conversation turns heavy. "I honestly have no clue where we even stand," you admit. It's not a lie, but it sure does feel like one. "Where do you think we are?"

"Honestly..." Wooyoung answers carefully, making it obvious he’s trying hard to choose the right words, "Honestly, I don't know where we are going. I don't know. Not anymore." He waits, leaving a weighty silence to settle between you both, before speaking again. "But I really, really like you." He pauses for another beat, waiting as if expecting a response, then carries on. "Like, not as a friend," he explains quickly, then swallows thickly before starting again, "not as just... not a... as someone I grew up with."

"So..." you start, unsure how exactly to proceed. "Does that mean you have feelings for me?"

He considers the question for a second, but then responds bluntly. "I've never not had feelings for you," he mutters quietly. His reply is both unexpected and surprising and also, oddly reassuring.

"Good to know," you whisper, lips quirking upwards. "And I don't wanna sound corny but..." you start but trail off, not knowing where to go next. How do you express that what you really feel is that maybe there's a possibility that you and him have always belonged to each other without sounding lame as hell? "I really, really like you too."

There's an awkward pause, and you're glad the others are all asleep in the back, unaware of the confession of feelings happening in the front row seat. You wait as Wooyoung clears his throat and looks up at you. Your eyes dart to the rear-view mirror for a quick sweep to check the others again. Thankfully, everyone else seems to still be sleeping and completely oblivious. 

"Our next rest stop, and I'm going to kiss the absolute life out of you. Fair warning," you mutter so quietly it's barely audible, and you can almost feel the blush bloom across your cheeks.

He raises his eyebrows at you, but his mouth ticks up with mirth. 

"No complaints here," and he chuckles, the sound comforting you. Then, he throws his feet onto the dashboard, crosses his arms across his chest, closes his eyes, and settles in for a little while, to rest and dream of nothing but you.

Soon, you pull into a highway diner and wake the gang to stretch their legs and grab some food to snack on until the next full stop, giving you ample time and privacy to settle what needs to be addressed between you and him.

Wooyoung waits patiently as the group mills about, wandering inside and grabbing the table.

"Thank fuck, I needed a toilet. Like, so bad," Jongho complains loudly as he sprints straight towards the facilities at the corner of the entrance.

You head inside as well, getting a big smile on your face, already thinking about what you are going to eat for lunch and where your next adventure will begin. After a half-hour of chatting and scarfing down your food, and taking a good amount of time to relieve yourselves in the restrooms, the group makes its way to the parking lot once again.

"Whose turn is it to drive next?" you call out to the guys, who all groan in unison. "I can go again but this time I'll actually vroom vroom!" You rev the engine to emphasise your point and you hear laughter erupt out of the pack.

"No vroom vroom," Hongjoong laughs and steps up towards the steering wheel. "My turn, little monster. Hand it over." 

He reaches a hand towards you and pries the key from your grip. The rest of the crew pile into the van, and the radio plays loudly as Hongjoong races out the parking spot and swerves onto the road, successfully startling everyone within the vehicle and sending them toppling over each other.

"Oh, so I can't vroom vroom but you can?" you cross your arms in defiance in the third row, Wooyoung laughing next to you.

"I'm a great driver!" Hongjoong boasts from the driver's seat as he navigates out of the busy lot and into the rush hour traffic.

"I love you, but you drive like a demon possessed!" San shouts from beside him.

"Dramatic," Hongjoong chuckles. "Alright, settle in folks," he smiles over at the group. "The road's ahead of us, it's gonna be a looonnngg ride!" He floors the gas and merges onto the highway.

You settle closer to Wooyoung's warm body, and his hands pull you closer, cradling your shoulders. He places a featherlight kiss on your hairline. "Later," he mumbles.

A small sigh escapes as the warmth envelopes you whole. This would have to do. "Later," you whisper, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

Night has already begun to descend as everyone was falling in and out of sleep. The adrenaline from the early start and subsequent stops is finally waning, leaving a nice sense of calm and security blanketing the entire crew.

Everyone seems relaxed. 

"Y'know..." Yunho suddenly begins, rousing from a long snooze. "I gotta take a piss."

"Yunho... We're in the middle of nowhere," you sigh, slightly amused but also quite annoyed, "can't you go for a few more miles?"

"A few more miles my ass! I gotta pee, like, RIGHT now!" Yunho continues whining. "Come on, man, please pull over at the rest stop coming up!"

"I gotta go too. We'll stop," Hongjoong acquiesces to his demands and pulls over at the next rest stop available.

Everyone piles out, and as they stretch their limbs, they go their separate ways to tend to their respective business. You and Wooyoung shuffle over towards a bench to sit down and relax, tiredly. "When we get back to Seoul," you huff out as you plop your ass down next to him, "I'm taking the longest nap known to humanity."

"We can nap together," he smirks, leaning in and letting his lips press against yours tenderly. The way his mouth fits yours perfectly leaves a shudder running all over your body.

"Just a nap?" you whisper into his lips.

"Just a nap," he promises, smirking harder now. "Unless you have another idea?"

"Oh, I'll tell you soon," you hum thoughtfully, wiggling your eyebrows teasingly.

A deep laugh reverberates in his chest, filling the cold air around the two of you, and for a brief moment, the two of you could forget the reason that you even met for this trip and focus only on each other. His mouth opens to continue, but another voice cuts through the serene tranquility. 

"We're about to hit the next town. Is anyone hungry?" Seonghwa stands before the both of you, clueless and unaware of the tension you both shared. "We're gonna spend a few nights at the next town and do some sightseeing and what-not." He grins at the both of you expectantly, awaiting a response.

"Oooo," you exclaim, genuinely excited to visit the next location, "yes, I'm starving."

"You're always starving!" Jongho yells over, and the others all laugh and agree with him.

"This will be interesting," Hongjoong chuckles heartily before announcing, "Look alive people, because the show is back on the road! Hustle your asses back into your seats, and fasten your belts tight!"

"Is it me or is he turning into a worse version of me every time he drives??" you blurt out, incredulous at how much of a reckless driver he’s becoming. "Who are you and what have you done with Hongjoong?!"

Hongjoong lets out a full body cackle at your remarks, shaking his head at your nonsense, "Settle in, crazy."

It isn't the town. It isn't the culture. It isn't the people. You have only one desire... and only one goal... to touch Wooyoung.

Or rather, let him touch you.

"Hurry back to the hotel room," you mutter through clenched teeth as the two of you ascend in the rickety elevator.

You know how you sound, desperate and thirsty and weak for him, but you honestly couldn't give a fuck. This has been going on for far too long; all this lust and frustration and pent-up desire that has built within the both of you. There was only one way to find release now. And it started by going back to your room and fucking like you meant it.

You and Wooyoung had to find the perfect opportunity to escape. While your friends were busy playing games and drinking themselves silly, the two of you snuck out of the room and booked it back to your shared space and fell into bed, panting and giggling and falling harder.

And now, here the two of you are, staring hungrily, heatedly, lustily into each other's eyes, breath ragged and bodies heavy with want. Wooyoung quickly puts up a Do Not Disturb sign outside the door before pushing his way back into the room and locking it behind him, and then the two of you meet, your fingers grasping his soft tresses tightly, pulling him closer.

"Are you finally going to kiss the absolute life out of me, now?" he whispers huskily, hands tangling through your locks.

"Maybe I'll do even more," you answer quietly, leaning in until your foreheads bump together gently.

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do, huh?" he challenges, wrapping one strong hand around the back of your neck and the other cupping your jaw, thumbs pressing firmly on either side, a sensation so delicious you almost pass out.

"Fuck the fuck outta me, fuck me til I can't breathe anymore," you sigh and lean into him. You stare at his face and you can see that your words are really affecting him. But your mind isn't focused on what's happening anymore; no, all you can think of now is getting that cock between your thighs, buried in you.

"Yeah?" Wooyoung mutters. He slides his palm across your cheek and slides a thumb over your lips. It's such an innocent movement, but the implications send blood racing throughout your whole body, setting your skin on fire. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His thumb presses harder, testing you. Your mouth falls open and he slips his thumb inside, your tongue laving at the digit eagerly, your breath becoming more shallow. "Yeah, you'd really, really like that."

When his gaze meets yours, it's hot. Desperate. Lustful.

But most importantly...

Devoted.

"And I would want that too," he whispers and when his lips press onto your burning skin, they are so soft you don't notice his touch is the same. Everything changes then. His kisses are sweet. They leave a trail of butterflies in your stomach, goosebumps rippling in their wake. He bites your earlobe. His grip tightens on the nape of your neck and holds your gaze steady.

A moan catches in the base of your throat, spilling over his lips. It makes your knees go weak and your heart pound in anticipation. He eases your shirt off and drops it on the carpeted floor. His fingers caress your sides as if you were the most precious piece of art he had ever seen. When he cups your breasts and rubs the hardened peaks between his thumb and forefinger, it's enough to push you over the edge, leaving you weak and wet in need.

"Do you have any idea how hot you're making me right now? Just seeing you in that bathing suit the other day... It took everything in me not to rip them off you and take you right there in front of everybody," he hisses, breath hitching, and kisses your neck, his teeth grazing along your throat and earlobes, his thumbs still circling your nipples.

"You sure can talk big, Woo," you laugh breathily, raising your chin just enough that he can bite on it, your spine shivering in delight. "You can promise that I'll never need anyone else after tonight?"

"Trust me," his voice is raw, raspy even, dripping with arousal.

"What would that entail, hmmm?" you wonder aloud.

A chuckle vibrates his whole chest as he shakes his head and purrs, "I can show you better than I can tell you."

That's when things begin to escalate. That's when his hands slide down your belly, fingertips teasing at the hem of your jeans. He leans his head close to yours, lips brushing softly over your lips, tongue trailing along them before darting in and out, drawing the outline of them with precision, mapping each curve, tracing a line over every crease. His hands caress up and down your torso, caressing everywhere, while his tongue explores and savors you.

Your knees buckle as his hands drop lower, fingertips brushing the waistband of your panties, rubbing slow circles. A soft, blissful moan escapes from between his parted lips. He bites lightly on your neck, his hot tongue probing, teasing, licking along the sensitive flesh there. He tastes the sweet salty skin, taking it between his teeth, giving a light nibble to the point you'd feel it every time the pleasure inside you increased, the tension increasing between your thighs.

He pushes down your jeans and panties together. They drop heavily around your feet. As soon as your clothes fall onto the floor, your back hits the mattress and you find yourself pinned underneath Wooyoung. The sheets are cool but he's warm and the heat radiating off of him feels incredible.

His mouth travels down your torso, moving further and further lower. Every touch sets off fireworks through every nerve ending in your body, each wave more intense than the last, building slowly.

Your hips arch when he gets near your pussy, eager to have him taste you. "Wooyoung, please." 

You don't mean to beg. But that doesn't stop the pleading words escaping from between your lips.

He growls appreciatively, "Tell me how bad you want me."

Your voice is almost a whimper, "Really, really fucking bad." 

You bite down hard, swallowing the urge to shout out loud, as he parts your thighs and settles his shoulders between them, spreading them even wider. His lips hover dangerously close and all of the muscles in your stomach contract violently, anticipating his next move.

"Want me to eat you up, baby girl?" He teases.

A little, "Oh yes," is all you can get out. Your thighs squeeze tighter together.

And that's all he needs to hear. His fingers part the soft folds and dive straight for the most intimate part of you. When his mouth closes over your wet slit, you swear to god you've died and gone to heaven. His tongue flicks out and probes your aching entrance. He sucks greedily, greedily drawing all of your juices into his waiting mouth as your fingers tighten their grasp on his head. A choked sob escapes from your chest as he devours you, drinking up every last bit, and it sounds like a fucking symphony.

Your hips writhe in response, your clit swollen, aching to be touched, begging to be rubbed against his tongue. His mouth is pure fucking bliss, and when the tip of his nose finally bumps your engorged nub, it sends electricity dancing through you. Your body jerks involuntarily, a string of incoherent pleas tumbling from your lips. He spreads your legs even wider now, so far apart your ass lifts a couple inches from the sheets. Your heels dig hard into shoulder blades as his tongue flattens and runs the length of your slit.

You begin rocking, your hips undulating, trying desperately to get a rhythm going, but Wooyoung pulls away, removing himself. "Now, now. You have to learn to ask nicely if you wanna get fucked." A predatory grin flashes across his face. His finger ghosts along your mound and slides between your folds, gathering up some moisture from the tip, before teasing its way to the tip of your swollen clit.

"Please... please," you choke, thrusting up desperately, your back arching off the mattress.

"Say 'pretty please.'"

You moan, "I'll say anything you want, as long as you put your mouth back where it belongs." Your hand reaches blindly for him and pulls his face back against your pussy, running fingers through his hair, digging nails into the back of his skull and tugging sharply to bring him closer. "Pretty please."

Wooyoung grunts happily, sinking his chin against your slick pussy, your sticky sweet juices coating his chin. Then, with his other hand he runs his index finger lightly, feathering, stroking, feeling along the length of the hood of your engorged clit. With the tip he strokes circles over your tip, running his nail lightly over the hood before circling round, then moving it from side to side, creating friction, sliding it back and forth, coating it in wetness.

As your body writhes uncontrollably, his free hand begins circling your stomach, his fingers curling, exploring, dancing lightly up and down between the sides and center of your hips. They glide gracefully, caressing, playing a tune over and over again, rolling along every curve and contour of your torso, worshipping every inch, memorising, cherishing, loving the shape of every valley and hill, the plushness of every surface. He rubs along every indent and slope, down the insides of each thigh.

One finger, then two, then three plunge deep inside you, curling in a come-hither gesture and setting a brutal, pounding rhythm that has you panting, gasping for breath. Every flick of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure rocketing throughout every part of your body. Your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl as your thighs clench, trapping him against you. The bedsheets twist tightly under the ferocity of your grip. A storm of ecstasy builds within you. It rages wild and fierce and violent and hungry. Your brain shuts off. Your vision becomes hazy. The blood rushes in your veins like molten lava, bubbling hot, scorching, threatening to melt everything away. You lose all coherent thought except one single thing:

Let him eat the fuck out of you.

"Ohhhh yes..." You murmur into the sheets. You feel Wooyoung's lips curling into a smile. He teases you, withdrawing from you, the tip of his tongue stroking the smooth wet flesh of your swollen clit. "Fuckkk." Your hands fist his hair and pull his head deeper into your mound, grinding his face against your pussy. "Cumming..."

His tongue strokes every inch of skin possible. And every second brings another surge of euphoria. Each one is growing more intense. Each wave washing over and leaving behind nothing but pleasure. Nothing but euphoric bliss. Every. Single. One. And it seems like nothing but seconds pass until your orgasm finally crests and crashes over you.

The sounds of your moans and grunts fill the entire room as you writhe under his tongue's relentless assault. It feels like heaven and hell combined. You can barely see a thing; your vision blurs and streaks across everything around.

After he eats his fill, Wooyoung returns above and kisses you deeply. Tasting your sweet slick all over his lips. Sliding a tongue in your mouth and kissing you so filthy that your moans are getting trapped.

"Did you like how you tasted, baby girl?" he croons, and your nod vehemently, a giddy smile on your flushed face, your core throbbing in delight and pleasure, your mind completely hazed with the delightful sensations he'd elicited from your body.

Wooyoung grasps the neckline of his t-shirt, tugging it off with ease before carelessly tossing the garment off the edge of the bed. Your eyes dart upwards to the wall before you. He's stripped in a matter of seconds.

Now shirtless and very much naked, Wooyoung swaps positions with you and plants you on top. Straddling his hips, your eyes instantly fall on the tattoos embedded onto his skin. Hands slide up and down your thighs, squeezing gently, and Wooyoung runs his fingers over his own abdomen. 

"Go ahead. Enjoy the view," he winks, looking like the smuggest fucker ever.

You trace the lines etched over his ribcage, outlining every symbol inked into his skin. You explore his chest with your mouth, mapping every line, exploring every dip, and leaving marks upon marks in the wake of your lips and tongue and teeth. Your eyes don't miss a detail as you admire his broad shoulders and lean biceps, which flex as his hands grip your thighs.

"You act like you've never seen my tatts before," he scoffs, running his hands through your hair, stroking your head affectionately.

"Not this close and detailed before, no," you respond, eyeing him lovingly.

Wooyoung is all gorgeous, beautiful tattoos and chiseled muscles and every other aspect you've ever fantasized about. He looks like something carved by the hands of god. Everything about him exudes pure power and domination, from his striking eyes to his handsome features to his hardening cock between your thighs. It is everything, and you cannot resist sinking lower, hips rolling and sliding against the hard shaft and velvety sack.

"Why are you torturing me," he hisses as his teeth catch at his lower lip, biting down.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It wasn't intentional. Okay, maybe a little.

"Well," you start, eyeing him in contemplation. He shifts himself on the mattress, hips thrusting, impatiently, but his arms are limp at his side, his body limp and languid, relaxed. He's absolutely content at letting you do as you please. And so, you decide it was time to please him. "Maybe you deserve it," you say, hand snaking its way into his hair, fisting his black locks roughly, while your other hand glides its way over his abs and toned belly. 

Your fingers dance up and down the grooves in between the toned muscle, memorizing the feeling and contour of his body. Your nails rake, teasingly, over his chest, stopping just below his collar bones. You give them both a light pinch and a tweak and enjoy watching him groan quietly in response, before continuing downwards, towards the protruding length below.

"Maybe you need someone to teach you patience. How does that sound?" Your fingertips caress downwards, traveling over his pelvis until you reach the base of his manhood. You wrap a fist firmly around the rigid organ. It throbs, twitching, pulsing. Wooyoung inhales sharply. He shudders and his teeth dig painfully into his lip, preventing any further noise escaping him. You look at his face and wait for him to meet your gaze. When his eyes land upon yours, they are dark, molten fire and hunger burns hot behind them.

"Maybe I do," he chuckles darkly, his hands trailing from your legs to rest atop of yours on his chest, a strong, possessive and reassuring hold.

"And you'd deserve it?" you add, moving a bit more closer to him, sliding your sex more closely towards his erection.

"Maybe," he breathes out, lips parting in anticipation, tongue darting out to lick and wet them.

You move to straddle his hips. Your eyes lock with his again, burning, melting. He raises his hands in surrender, silently giving consent, urging you to carry on with whatever you had planned. So you slide your hips towards him and the head of his cock slides up your dripping lips, and you know it will only be moments until his entire girth is fully sheathed inside you, stretching and filling you. You roll your hips again and gasp. And Wooyoung responds with his own soft grunt.

"Can't believe it... Are we really doing this right now...?" he gasps out, mouth open, cheeks flushed pink and eyelids heavy.

"We'll stop if you want," you respond, teasingly.

"Oh hell no, don't stop," he shakes his head, grip getting even tighter on you and cock harder underneath your warmth. "Keep going, keep going. We've gotten this far... let's just... continue..." he croaks out, breathy, chest heaving.

Slowly, you begin rocking your hips into him, and as you do, his cock eases deeper and deeper. Every movement sends electric bolts coursing through your body and leaves you tingling in sheer excitement. You build the momentum as his length plunges further and further inside you, creating an incredible sense of bliss and euphoria to rise within. The tight friction coupled with the exquisite sensations create a whirlwind inside that threatens to drive you wild, and it is not long until you find yourself lost. The sound of heavy panting fills the room, mingled with the soft slapping of wet skin on skin.

Wooyoung flips you onto your back, and he drives his hips harder and faster and rougher. And you welcome every strike eagerly, holding on to his powerful muscles, and basking in the immense ecstasy of the moment.

"Holy hell, woman, are you trying to fucking kill me?" he groans out through gritted teeth and the sweat trickling down his forehead as he continues pounding and pushing deeper inside of your clenching warmth.

Your hands tighten their hold on his back, clinging onto his form desperately, "Only a little bit, Woo. Only a little bit."

A snort escapes from the deep depths of his lungs, "Hilarious. This is the second best experience of my life."

You decide to mess with him, "Second best? Then what was first?" you can't help the giggles threatening to escape the confines of your throat as you watch his face soften.

"Loving you."

"Ugh, cheesy motherfucker," you playfully admonish, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder, stifling the grin threatening to spread across your face. "Love you too," you say, peppering a couple of sweet pecks along his face and neck.

The bed squeaks and you're sure whoever is sharing the wall next to you can probably tell you are getting laid. But none of that matters. All that mattered was the pleasure. You reach for his hand and lace your fingers together as you feel his thrusts become harder and faster.

The pleasure is unreal. Never before have you felt like this. Not once. Every sensation seems magnified as the pleasure rises within you. You revel in his touch. How he makes you feel loved, worshipped.

"I think I'm..."

"Me too, love," he whispers as you lock gazes again. "Together?" he asks breathily.

You can only manage to nod fervently, cheeks stained red and heart pounding rapidly.

And with the next roll of your hips and the deepest push that Wooyoung provides, your walls tighten around his cock. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hipbones. There's no turning back. You allow the sensation to fill and explode and burst forth from every crevice of your being. Everything stops moving, falling, falling... The room swirls. A bright, sparkling white consumes you, and for a brief moment the universe bursts forth and you swear that you have seen the beginning of time and space within these walls.

And then reality hits, and you lay spent, sweaty, satisfied and wrapped in Wooyoung's loving embrace.

And nothing would be the same after.

When you wake up in the morning, Wooyoung is already awake and gazing down at you in awe and wonder.

"This has been such a long time coming," he confesses, caressing your cheek lovingly.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze lightly. "Couldn't agree more, loverboy," you beam up at him, sending the warmest smile he's ever seen radiating on your glowing face.

"God, I feel so great right now," he laughs joyfully, leaning back onto the mountain of pillows behind him. "Just laying here and staring at you is bringing me an insane amount of happiness."

"Aw, come here, you sappy fuck," you motion him forward and he gladly complies, arms circling around your waist as you sit upright beside him, nestled snuggly against each other's frame.

It doesn't matter what you are wearing or what your hair looks like, you are radiant, perfect and stunning no matter what, and the thought brings the largest smile onto Wooyoung's face, because his feelings were reciprocated. And you both found that solace in knowing that you were all each other ever wanted, needed, wished.

"This vacation could not have been any more perfect," Wooyoung sighs contentedly, eyes falling close for a few beats of silence before he looks over to you.

"Maybe we should go on a road trip every summer," you suggest, shrugging your shoulders. "Just you, and me, and a whole bunch of endless highways and a destination in mind... how does that sound, Woo?"

"It sounds like a plan," he beams at you, grinning brightly.

You cuddle close to him and nod your head. "A plan indeed," you agree and kiss him lovingly.

"Just the two of us..." he trails off dreamily as you caress and cradle him close to your chest, the slow rhythm of your beating hearts lulling you both into a sweet slumber.

Your body jerked awake at the sudden warmth, a shaky gasp breaking past your lips as you struggled against the newcomer but you felt him pull you closer mumbling in a hushed voice, “It’s me…sheesh, stop watching those crime documentaries”, causing you to huff in annoyance. You felt your tsundere man wrapping his leg around yours, and drape an arm across your waist, pulling you even closer, his nose buried in your neck, almost wanting you to become one.

“Jjong.” a faint whisper floated in the silence of the night, followed by a cracked hum. The soft cotton enveloping the two of you began to burn up, only for your tired mind to mentally begin the countdown for when your lover would toss it off both of you, using his body heat to keep the two of you warm instead- didn’t even need to count to ten, six seconds in and he had kicked it of the two of you, and much like usual the duvet landed on its usual place, the ground- you’d berate him for this again in the morning, like every morning, but right now something else was on your mind.

It wasn't often, moments like these were often rushed, the nervous touches, fleeting kisses, the gentle but swift caress of his fingers- physical touch was something Jongho was still afraid to use, regardless of how long the two of you had been together for, regardless of how long the two of you had been married for. Much like his emotions, he would keep the physical affection to a minimum. 

For the initial part of the relationship, back in college, you wondered if he was even interested in you, other than that initial confession there was no real intimate indication of his feelings towards you, for quite a while. To some extent you had considered ending the relationship all and all, assuming he perhaps was not comfortable with you, perhaps you did not meet his expectations of an ideal partner, perhaps you two were still too young.

However, when the moment came you lost your nerve, especially when he gave you that sincere smile, his eyes crinkling and twirling like stars, all because you two had crossed your 6-month mark of being together, as he handed you a silly little gift, a polaroid of you two in a small bear keychain frame. That night, for some reason, you had begun to notice the little things about Choi Jongho, how he'd open the door for you but also ask for a payment, often an ‘Oh thank you, what a nice man you are’, how he'd end up pouring water for you even before you'd ask, how when you'd be walking towards the car or even to the restaurant you'd feel the gentle weight of his warm jacket, then see him trudging ahead mumbling to himself, “Why not wear a coat when it's cold?!” 

Let's not forget the time you were cursing yourself for assuming ‘I can do it in one night’ during exam season, causing you to panic too, crying and memorising simultaneously. That very night someone magically appeared at your door, breaking into the girl's dorm, didn't matter to you though, especially when you were enveloped in a bear hug as soon as he saw your teary-eyed face. That night you realised Jongho was very much capable of giving great hugs and of course, a more physical kind of intimacy with him heavily depended on the situation. If it were you who required attention, he'd gently hold you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, letting you cling onto him- but when he'd cling onto you, that would be a whole other story.

Choi Jongho was a clingy man, especially when he missed you. Something you figured out when you met him post-winter break, having him cling onto you at every opportunity he got, whether it be holding your hand while you were reading or giving you an endless back hug while you were cooking- and you’d be lying if you were to say that was not your favourite kind of Jongho. The kind of Jongho you got to be with on your wedding night, chuckling at the sound of him whining about how he still couldn’t believe this was true and you being you, you never let a single moment go to waste, teasing him about his clinginess whilst clinging back to your baby bear. 

“Missed me Jjong?” Your sleep lusted voice tickled his ears, causing him to huff out in annoyance, causing the bed to tremor, the blanket being pulled up against you as he shifted, turning you around, much to your pleasure, and squeezing you closer. You chuckled at his childish antics, hugging him back, tucking your head under his chin, your hand pressed against his chest, feeling his warm, beating heart, “I missed you too baby bear…” with that you closed your eyes, it was difficult not to when he was so warm, so comfortable, so tender with you.

Jongho glanced down to find your smiling face, it was funny how you were asleep, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. He knew the next morning he’d wake up to you nagging at him, yes, you had told him doing overtime would just tire him out more and he had ignored you, claiming you didn’t know any better. Incorrect, you knew too much for your own good, you knew him too much for his own good- and it terrified him, it terrified him how you could read through his facade of macho-ness, understand how he was feeling by just the way he breathed, sense his insecurities by the simplest of touches. Worse of all, you figured out how he preferred lounging around with you rather than going to work.