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moonheecore · 1 year ago

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Lover Boy — lhs (m)

Pairing: Boyfriend! Heeseung X Afab! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), college AU, established relationship.

Warnings: Soft Dom! Heeseung, protected sex, consumption of alcohol lots of praising (fem receiving), multiple orgasm, oral (male & female receiving), love making because Heeseung is whipped for you, teasing, cowgirl, dirty talking, Heeseung is both a frat boy and a basketball player which is lethal to the heart, overuse of the word pretty and baby, feat other 01 boy group members, hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: Lee Heeseung, your sweet boyfriend that you have wrapped around your finger. His favoritism towards you didn't escape the notice of his close friends, leading to a well-known moniker they often used when the girlfriend privilege was evident— Lover boy.

Main masterlist

Word count: 5.1k

The atmosphere, combined with the chilly night air, provided a comforting feel. Amid the ongoing frat party, you and a bunch of your circle of friends sought solace on the mansion's back patio, where a warm bonfire painted the scene orange.

You registered the soft sound of your boyfriend’s laughter in the air, watching him and Jeongin joked around with a very drunken Beomgyu across from you. The said male was playing the acoustic guitar carelessly until a visibly annoyed Jaehyuk took the instrument away from the semi-conscious guy.

Lee Heeseung.

The fraternity president, the star and ace player of the school's basketball team, the heartthrob of every girl on campus— and your incredibly attractive boyfriend.

When you said he was effortlessly hot, you meant every word.

He sat there, clad in his usual outfit of a simple black t-shirt and a pair of ripped dark blue jeans, his soft faded purple hair tucked under one of his many collection of beanies. You observed how his dangling earring swayed with each flash of his pearly white teeth, a response to the antics his friends were pulling.

Your eyes trailed to the item hung around his neck, a delicate necklace that he never forgot to pull out of his shirt—your initials carved in silver, proudly displayed for everyone to see.

You felt a bit embarrassed when you gifted him the accessory at first, but you had never seen Heeseung’s doe eyes filled with mellow tenderness as he kept fidgeting the letter with a small smile.

Since then, you’ve never seen him take it off.

A sense of endearment bloomed every time you saw it around his neck. He wore it to his basketball practice, in the shower, to bed— everywhere.

Even in those intimate moments, it dangled above you, the delicate chain brushing against your lips as he thrust into your sopping wet core, fucking you wholeheartedly against the bed sheets; or when you would entangle your fingers between the cold chains, the grip providing the perfect leverage as you ride his cock, the symphony of his encouraging moans blending with the creaking of the bed frame.

You felt almost comical at how shaken you were by a piece of jewelry.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Yunjin's voice cut through your distracted thoughts.

You turned your head to face her, obviously startled. "What?"

Yunjin scoffed, taking a sip from her red cup. "If you don't stop eye-fucking your boyfriend, I might puke on you."

“I was not!”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow at your answer, clearly unimpressed. You closed your mouth in silent embarrassment, hugging Heeseung's jacket around your body tighter. The waft of his cologne gave you a piece of mind.

You sighed in defeat, "—okay, fine, maybe I was, alright. Is that a crime now?” Yunjin's expression softened, and she nudged you playfully, finding your annoyed yet adorable expression to be one that lit amusement.

“Well, I guess you're in some kind of luck, girl. He is looking right back at you."

You blinked, surprised, and turned to see Heeseung gazing back at you with a fond smile across the bonfire. The orange hue from the flame seemed to accentuate the way his eyes lowered down before locking onto yours again, as if he was drinking in the sight of you. He raised his eyebrows enticingly, patting his lap like a signal for you to join him.

A blush crept onto your cheeks.

"You're having too much fun with this," you remarked, getting up from your seat as Yunjin's playful laughter filled the air as you left.

God, you hate it when she has then upper hand. But you hate it even more when you feel like a giddy middle schooler while heading towards your boyfriend.

His gaze stayed fixed on you throughout, leaning back on his seat to create a comfortable space for you to settle on his lap, both legs elegantly positioned on one side. You feel his hands immediately on your body— one securing your back, while the other gently on your bare knee.

Heeseung was so warm that you instantly melt in his embrace, resting the side of your head against his shoulder. You fought against every instinct, refraining from burying your face in his neck. It was as if the lingering scent of his sweet cologne on the jacket he gave you at the party's start wasn't sufficient to satisfy the yearning within you.

"Are you cold?" He asked, already taking a blanket to drape over your exposed legs. You stared at his side profile, letting out a soft hum at his attentiveness. He glanced down at you, only to find you already staring back.

Gosh, you could drown yourself in his eyes.

"Hi," He whispered, as if having you in his arms was the most casual thing.

"Hi," You breathed out shyly, wrapping your arms around his neck to shorten the distance between your faces.

The both of you struggled to contain your laughter at the exchange. The noise of your friends and the crackling bonfire seemed to fade away as you locked eyes with each other.

“You look really cute tonight.” You blurt out, feeling his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your knee under the covers.

He raised his eyebrow in feigned offence. “Cute?”

There was a mischievous glint in his expression, and it was impossible to ignore as he leaned down to boldly fix his gaze on your lips.

"Not hot?" he questioned, your breath hitching as his fingers traced up your legs, ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. It made your heart race, especially considering he was doing it discreetly with people still around.

"Or sexy?”

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to contain the small moan coming out when he cups your clothed cunt. Heeseung observed every scrunch of your face, feeling your fingers tugging at the hairs on his nape and the way you pressed your thighs together, curling inwards towards his body.

Heeseung wished he could tease you even more, relishing in your adorable reactions. However, he could feel himself getting worked up too, forcing him to whisper against your ear.

“Let’s go to my room, yeah?”

You nodded quietly against his shoulder. He shifted to grab the blanket and laid it on the empty chair, prompting you to stand up and fix your skirt, which had ridden up during his little ministration.

"Hey," Heeseung called out to Jeongin, intertwining his big hands with yours. "We're heading inside."

"What! Already?" Beomgyu's slurred words cut through the conversation, loud enough for others to hear. "Come on! The party's just about to get started!"

Heeseung looked visibly annoyed as his friend draped an arm around his shoulder. Clearly under the influence of alcohol, he glanced over Heeseung’s shoulder, catching sight of your connected hands and the noticeable flush on your cheeks.

"Ohhh, I see why you're leaving early," Beomgyu said with a massive grin on his face and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Heeseung, you fucking dog! Lover boy getting his dick nice and wet tonight—“

Before Beomgyu could continue, Jeongin smacked his palm over his mouth from behind to stifle the rest of his sentence, holding him in a headlock. He signaled to Heeseung to go and shot you an apologetic look as well.

But the damage was done, and you shyly lowered your head as Heeseung pulled you away where people were whistling and howling in your direction as you past by.

"God, I was about to sacrifice him in the fire if he didn't stop yapping."

You giggled as he grumbled under his breath, reaching the steps of the patio. He opened the back door, ushering you inside the house where the party showed no signs of slowing down even in the wee hours of the night.

The thumping bass of the music reached your ears as you walked down the hallway, navigating through drunken students flowing between the dancefloor in the living room and the kitchen stocked with an abundance of alcohol.

The tight space between the sweaty figures made you feel claustrophobic, but the reassuring touch of Heeseung's fingers laced with yours and your other hand holding onto the belt loops of his pants kept you from getting lost in the sea of crowds.

Heeseung has always made his strong presence felt by you.

He always ensured you walked on the side away from the road, poured and guarded your red cup when you were away, stayed sober to drive you home, rested his hands at the back pocket of your pants when you walk together or when he would wait for you patiently outside of the restroom when you felt unwell.

His favoritism towards you didn't escape the notice of his close friends, leading to a well-known moniker they often used when the girlfriend privilege was evident—

Lover boy.

Your lover boy, the man who was pinning you against the door of his bedroom, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your jawline, kissing your lips deeply the moment he locked the doors.

You opened your mouth slightly, allowing his hot tongue to explore the cavern of your mouth. The intensity made you tangle your fingers in his soft hair, eliciting light moans and groans from both of you that he gladly swallowed down.

You weren't sure if you were tipsy from the alcohol or his taste because you started to feel fuzzy in the head.

“Is my hair in the way?” He questioned, sounding a little out of breath once he broke the kiss.

He rest his forehead against yours, the bridge of your noses grazing each other at the proximity. You chuckled softly, pushing back the lone strands of his hair that escaped when you pulled his beanie off.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

You licked his bottom lip sensually, mesmerized by the way it glistened with saliva. Heeseung bent down to capture your lips again swiftly, his heart going wild with what you did, circling your waist to pull you flush against his body.

You weren't going to lie; you felt out of breath, getting lost in the rhythm of his mouth moving hungrily. But you didn't want to stop, going insane with the way his hands were slowly smoothing down your body.

"You look beautiful in this skirt," he murmured, pressing a kiss at the corner of your lips before switching to your jawline and down your neck.

“I wore it just for you…” You admitted, sighing softly when he nib and suck at the sensitive spot of your neck, holding his hair tighter when he moved to knead the back of your thighs.

"Is that why it's so short?"

You felt him smirk against your neck, letting out a sudden gasp when his hands moved under your skirt to grope an ample amount of your bare ass.

"Hmm? Planning to seduce me with your slutty ass out for everyone to see.”

Now your cheeks were on fire.

It was rendering you speechless, with only the ability to weakly shake your head. You couldn't bring yourself to make eye contact with Heeseung as he looked back to gauge your reaction. Doing so would likely leave you feeling weak in the knees.

Heeseung could only smile at your cute reaction, especially when you tried your best to hold back your moans but failed.

“Naughty girl, but I guess it work, right?" Heeseung drove his point home when he took one of your hands, gently guiding you to palm his semi-hard cock through his pants.

He let out a shaky sigh when you knead firmly along his thick length. "Feel how hard I am for you, baby. Only you can make me feel like this."

Heeseung let out small whiny moans as his head fell to rest on your shoulder, bucking his hips shamelessly in your hand as his cock grew heavy, a tight dent forming at the front of his pants.

You felt the familiar pooling of wetness gathering, both at the base of your tongue and between your thighs.

“Seungie,” You call out, pulling on the bands of his pants shyly with half lidded eyes and swollen lips courtesy of him. “Can I suck you off, please?”

Holy shit, he could get a cardiac arrest with the way you said it with so much lust.

"I’d love that," he grinned, leading you to his bed as he sat at the edge, pulling his shirt off to exposed his ripped body.

You promptly went on your knees between his legs, causing him to caress his thumb over your cheek as you fiddled with his buttons and zipper before pulling his pants and boxers down, swiftly releasing him from the tight confinement.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his beautiful cock lying hard against his abs, the head already aching and red with pre-cum leaking at the tip. The sight of his tight balls entice you even more, leading you to kiss them first before sucking gently on the flesh.

"So eager, baby." He cooed, using one hand to lean back on the mattress while the other rest on the crown of your head. "Just like that pretty girl, fuck—"

He rasped out a loud moan when you licked a long stripe up along his length before swiftly engulfing his head in your mouth. Heeseung felt absolutely winded at the sight of you stuffing your cheeks full of his cock, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn't get in the way of the sight.

You started to bob your head, smoothly pumping his length in and out past your lips. You jerk his remaining length expertly while your other hand fondle with his balls.

"So pretty like this, taking me so well. Bet you've been thinking about fucking your mouth in my big cock the whole night, right, baby?" He smiled down at you.

You were so drunk with his taste that you could only hum in response, swirling your tongue around his tip before dipping it into his slit. Heeseung instinctively tug your hair, pulling your face closer until your nose was touching his pelvis as you tried to accommodate him beyond your usual capacity.

You knew his most sensitive spot— slurping on his bulbous head while you slid your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock as much as possible.

"Ah god, fuck, baby, that's it." He whines, thrusting into your mouth, pushing his cock until it hits the back of your throat repeatedly. Your jaws were aching, but you fight the urge to gag by hollowing your cheeks, letting him use your mouth free to his will.

You didn't care that drool was spilling at the corner of your mouth or that the corners of your eyes were starting to sting with tears. Heeseung was at the mere edge of his release and your clit was throbbing to even think about him spilling his seed into your mouth.

"Y/N, fuck—“ You could hear the rawness of desperation in his voice, chest heaving. The hand gripping on the back of your head turned rough as he sloppily pistons his hips forward that almost make you choke.

"Gonna cum in your mouth, baby girl. Gonna fill you up nice and good down your throat until all you taste is me."

And you’ll gladly let him, feeling his head twitch a few times against the roof of your mouth before he release the tension in his shoulder, lurching forward and swearing loudly as ropes of his white cum coat your entire oral region.

Despite feeling light-headed, you continue riding him of his orgasm as you swallow down his hot load and lick him clean. In fact, it made Heeseung shudder in pure pleasure, wiping down your smudge eye linear with a gleeful expression.

"Sorry, are you okay? I seriously couldn’t hold back…”

He sheepishly apologized, smoothing down your tousled hair as you rested your head against his thigh.

"...and I came a lot." He mumbled, and you giggled at the way he turned bashful when just a second ago, he was rolling his eyes while shoving his shaft down your throat.

“It’s fine.” You reassured him. Heeseung wanted to plunge himself into your mouth again when your wipe the excess cum at the corner of your lips, licking it without a second thought.

"You taste absolutely delicious."

You began to kiss the dips of his v-line, holding onto his thighs as you move to tongue at his navel. You could feel his stomach tense up as you lick the valley of his abs, trailing up and standing on your feet to reach his neck and jaw before settling on kissing his lips.

You circled your hands around his neck firmly, thumb pressing on the prominent swell of his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t you think a good girl like me deserves to be rewarded?” You look at him with those dreamy eyes he can’t refuse, or maybe that was just the afterglow of sucking his cock that makes you look irresistible under the bedroom lights.

Heeseung's hands slipped under your shirt, gently tracing your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe if she strips down for me I’ll consider.” He purred, doe eyes darken with lust. "Get naked for me, baby, and I promise to make you feel incredible."

If the arousal trickling down your thighs wasn't a clear sign of your longing, the fact that you promptly followed his command under his hungry gaze certainly speaks volumes.

"Fucking beautiful," he whispered as you peeled off your bra, licking his bottom lip as he watched your breasts bounce free. Now, you were left in only your skimpy panties.

"The most prettiest girl in the world." He lament, pulling you closer and situating you between his legs, your exposed breasts now right in front of his face. Your tits were hardening as he firmly grasped one of them.

"—and I get to have you all to myself."

You instantly crumbled when he captures a nipple between his pouty lips, suckling on the hard nub until you feel the pressure on your skin. His other hand toyed with the other perky breast, kneading it and ensuring it received the same attention as he pinched it between his fingers.

"Feels so good, seungie..." You moaned out, your fingers found purchase in his hair again as you arch your back when he switch to engulf the other nipple with moist kisses.

"Fuck...love it when you use your tongue on me." You were shaking your head, body trembling when he kept nibbling and lapping at your sensitive nipples, coating them with his thick saliva.

"I know, baby." He gazes up at you with a knowing expression, leaving bite marks on the swell of your breast. "Think you can handle it if I eat your pretty little pussy?"

Fuck, no, you don’t think so.

To many people on the outside, he has the sweetest pair of lips, always complementing and giving you lovey-dovey kisses in public. But behind the scenes, his dirty mouth never stops moving on your body, and you know for a fact that his tongue is the spawn of the devil. It won't end until every drop of your arousal coated his taste buds, and you crying for him to stop.

But you fear you might go insane if the ache between your legs isn't relieved soon, succumbing everything you have to him.

"Yes, please, I need you now." You urged.

Heeseung laugh softly, a big smile plastered on his face.

"C'mere, baby. Get on the bed and lay down for me."

He instructs, standing up and turning you both around so that you're pressed against the bed.

He took a pillow to gently tuck it beneath your head, making sure you were laying down in a comfortable position. You were observing every move he made impatiently, and he took obvious notice of that.

“You look like I’ve already made you cum,” He teased.

Blushing at his words, you watched as he settled to spread your legs open. The sight made his cock twitch, the damp patch of fabric clinging to your folds, outlining the curves of your lips. He could already imagining how swollen and soak you were, and he haven't even properly touch you yet.

"You're so wet, baby," He praised, peeling your panties from your pussy. "Are you sure you haven't cum yet?"

You shake your head, spreading your knees wider for him to tug off your panties from your ankle. "No, I wanted to wait for you."

"Such a good girl."

Heeseung seemed satisfied with your response, especially when he could confirm that you weren't lying. Your pussy was slick with arousal, and your clit looked engorged to the touch. He was sure it was courtesy of you humping the carpet floor when you were on your knees for him.

Heeseung laid on his stomach, hooking his arms behind your thighs. It was like a wet dream, having his head between you legs and feeling the heat radiating from his breath as he drew closer to your bare cunt. You fingers entangled itself in his soft locks when he blew on your sensitive clit.

"Heeseung, please don't tease— ngahhh.”

The words died in your mouth the moment he licked a stripe of your core, as if to test the waters before fully lapping on your wet folds. You lifted your hips, hearing the slurping sounds of his lips smacking around your cunt. His button nose pressed on your clit so deliciously that you hoped the loud noise from the party was drowning the even louder cries of pleasure escaping from your throat.

"yes, yes, fuck, faster." There was the familiar knot blooming in your stomach, the one that was growing the more Heeseung prob the tip of his tongue in and out of your lose slit.

A soft groan emits from him, driven by the way you would roughly scrape your nails on his scalp as you start grinding on his face feverishly. His chin is dripping with drool and your arousal, your sweet scent and taste overwhelming his mind, causing him to quicken his pace and latch his lips onto your clit.

He flattened his tongue on the pearl, flicking it back and forth, face pressed deeply between your thighs until you were a convulsing mess on his bed.

Your abdomen was pulsing erratically, your walls clenching over nothing as you released the torment you had kept. An orgasm washed over you like cold icy water, throwing your head back as Heeseung's tongue continued to coax every bit of your climax until he was satisfied. He was going down on you, making sure to clean every crevice that he might have missed, even when you were weakly whining that it was too much.

He was fucking pussy drunk. There was no other explanation for him literally drinking you up right now.

"You're such a cute mess.” He was peppering your inner thighs with kisses, watching you squirm from the sensitivity every touch on your skin brings. "Always so ready for me to taste."

His sun-kissed skin glowed with sweat, his hair attractively disheveled, while his lips were swollen with a sweet pink hue. He gingerly moved and leaned down to kiss you square on the lips. It was light-hearted, simmering down the intensity of everything that happened before.

He was gentle, holding your jaw tenderly as you both basked in the warmth of your proximity.

"You did so well for me, baby." He bumps his nose against yours. "Think you can keep going?"

It was sweet of him to take note on the exhaustion reigning on your features, but you honestly don’t think the night could be completely over until he fucks your pussy with his cock.

"God, yes,” You nodded, gnawing on your lower lip. "Lemme ride you.”

He wasted no time in positioning himself to sit up, leaning his back on the headboard. You took this as an invitation to sit on his lap as he rummage on his side drawer for a condom.

“Wild berry or bubblegum, what do you think?”

“Heeseung, please just hurry up.”

You snapped, snatching one of the wrappers from his hand.

Heeseung's boyish laughter filled the air, his beautiful smile and his eyes turning a beautiful crescent shape. His silly jokes could never be separated, to the point where you swore he was secretly a masochist for finding joy in seeing you suffer in the most unconventional moments.

You rip the package open with your teeth before rolling it onto his already hard cock that twitches with every friction from your contact. Now, you thought you were the one being needy when he was literally manhandling you to hover over him.

You rest your hand on his broad shoulders. With one hand on your waist and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he guides the tip to your entrance as you slowly sink down simultaneously.

He rasped out words to encourage you to lower your hips, the loud sounds of both of you moaning in rapture together when he fully bottoms out filled the room.

"Holy shit." Heeseung's head fell to knock on the headboard, his chest going up and down erratically. "You're so fucking tight."

Heeseung's large cock was throbbing inside of you, filling you completely as if he was made for you. The initial discomfort of the stretch slowly fizzled out, and pleasure took over as you craved more of him. You guide his hand to wrap around your waist, moving your hips up and down on his length.

You were absolutely enamored, lifting yourself before sinking back down with a heavy weight, feeling his mushroom tip pressing on the deepest part of your cervix. Your inside were spasming insanely at the hot contact, leaving you to spill a mantras of moans.

You lean back to rest your palms on his thighs, grinding and rolling your hips, hearing the soft creak of the bed as you begin to bounce on his cock sloppily. Heeseung's moaning and panting under his breath, pulling your waist impossibly close when he feels you clench around his girth deliciously.

"You look so hot. What the fuck." Heeseung gasped out, watching your through half lidded eyes.

His view of you was just amazing— your perfect tits bouncing when you slam your hips down at an angle, your wet pussy squeezing him tightly that he could see a white ring of precum collecting at the base of his shaft. Pieces of your hair were stuck to your forehead, your face so fucked out that he could easily cum from this image of you.

"Fuck, Heeseung, touch me."

You alluring voice was like a spell, coaxing him to fondle your breast while his thumb played with your puffy nipples. You continue to overwhelmed him as you move faster, both of his hands slowly glide down to grab your ass cheeks, aiding you to move back and forth on his cock sensually when he notice you slowing down.

"Keep going baby, I love it when you spread your pussy and ride my cock."

You shake your head in desperation, your thighs trembling in exhaustion. "Can't— I can't go on anymore."

You didn't need to say twice, and he was already pulling you to rest on his chest.

"It's okay, baby, I got you." Heeseung holds you by your love handles before he started thrusting up roughly.

It became apparent that both of you were on edge, becoming overly sensitive to each other. Every drag of his cock against your walls throwing both of you into overdrive. While you were holding onto your dear life to stay afloat, Heeseung was becoming addicted to the pleasure, pounding into you until the loud sound of clapping filled the room.

You're not sure anymore whether it was the sound of his thighs or his balls slapping against your ass.

You couldn't focus anymore, not when you were struggling to stay upright as he was balls deep into you. He was so big, so hard that he was practically throbbing against your walls. Not even a second did he slip out, despite the brute speed and strength he was using to rail you repeatedly at your sweet spot.

The burning knot in your stomach was coming back, getting tighter and tighter as he makes a mess in your insides.

"Heeseung." You're voice crack at the end, nails digging at his back. "I— I'm about to fucking cum."

Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you hide your face in his neck, the feeling of his fingers rubbing and pinching on your clit made you clamp harder around him. You chanting his name over and over again only deepen his desire to absolutely ruined you in the best way possible.

"That's it, baby, cum for me." Heeseung nibbled the lobe of your ear, the movement of his hips faltering gradually as he was near his high as well. "I want to see you cum all over my cock like a good girl."

There was a second of pin-drop silence before you slump on his chest, crying and moaning as you feel your second orgasm shaking your body and soul. Heeseung was not far behind you, stuffing your sore slit with one last crash before you could feel his chest vibrate with loud groans, releasing strings of hot semen into the rubber.

The knot in your stomach was untied, losing its overwhelming pressure, and it mixed wonderfully when Heeseung's face morphed into a satisfying glint, his head falling to rest on the headboard.

It feels like a symphony of wonders, the heat of everything blending in from the heavy breathing and the slick dripping down your thighs as Heeseung pull out of you to tie the soiled condom. You close your eyes, ears pressed against his chest as you follow the lullaby of his heartbeat to calm your mind down.

Your hands mindlessly twirl the chains of his necklace, and Heeseung embraces you tighter in his arms. He leans down to place a sweet kiss on your cheeks, pushing back some stray hairs behind your ears. He let out a tender sigh when you snuggle closer, prompting him to trace your back gently with his fingers.

Your legs was sore but you regained your bearings to kiss him, gently humming when you feel him smiling against your lips.

"I love you, Heeseung." You said softly.

He peered down at you, his eyes saying everything without a word as he gave that lovesick expression, admitting that he will forever be—

"I love you too. Always."

—Your lover boy.

2K notes · View notes

okiedokrie · 6 months ago

Text

Dress

Summary: Watching your best friend get hot was a struggle, him not fucking you was harder.

Characters/Pairing: Best Friend!Lee Chan (Dino) x Fem!Reader

Genre: smut, porn without plot there is some if you squint

AU/Trope Info: Best Friends to Fucking, College AU

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Jealousy, some threats of body harm to self and to others mentioned, smut warnings under the cut

A/N: tagging @bitchlessdino and @the-boy-meets-evil as the main enablers of chan porn, thank you to @wonuvs for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, marking, overstimulation, lmk if I missed anything!

Silence. Patience, pining, and anticipation. You think you might be going insane with how hard you're holding back from exploding in his face. You watch your best friend, Chan, talk to a girl, who in your opinion is too into whatever he's saying.

Like, okay, he's funny. But he's not squeeze his arm and throw your head back funny.

You're convinced if you stare hard enough you'll be able to burn a hole through the skull of this- objectively pretty- girl. Yeah, you can't get too jealous because she's gorgeous and you would've probably hated Chan if he fumbled her.

Still, that doesn't quench the burning hot jealousy you feel. The fire burning in your stomach being the catalyst for the events that followed that party. The unmistakable, ugly, green head of pure jealousy.

Chan, with his stupidly sculpted face that you've watched mature over the years, his perfect long black hair, his muscles pressing against his shirt, leather jacket, sittable nose-

You just think it's unfair how hot Chan has gotten and he still hasn't thought of fucking you. This isn't fair at all.

Just as you were about to successfully finish off the poor girl in various different ways, Chan finally noticed you stewing in your own envy; hands almost shaking from how hard you were holding back from him.

Chan excuses himself from the girl, much to your relief, to finally join your side again.

“Hey babe, you holding good here?” He says, with that signature, annoyingly charming, dopey smile of his.

“Chan, not gonna lie, I'm gonna fucking kill myself if you don't fuck me right now.”

If Chan was surprised at your sudden horny outburst, he didn't show it. Ever the giver he is, he gives you one last dopey grin before leaning in to catch your lips in a searing kiss.

The force of the kiss caused you to drop the cup you were nursing, the warm beer spilling and soaking into the carpet, but you didn’t care—that was going to be Soonyoung's problem.

Your hands snake up from his firm chest tothe back of his neck, using it as leverage to pull yourself up to his height while pressing him to you.

You both separate from the kiss after remembering that you are, in fact, in public.

“Fuck, get me upstairs now.” You almost said in a whine, desperately clinging onto Chan like your life depended on it—and franky, it actually does.

He just giggles while gently guiding you upstairs to his room, a hand on your lower back while he guides you up the stairs. Entering his room, he stops to call for you,

“Y/n.”

Your name on his lips made the world stop for a second. It was something simple—he's said it a thousand times—yet, the way he says it now makes you not want him as a best friend. Your name felt like a sleeper agent phrase that awakened a different level of horny in you that you didn’t think was possible.

Instead of replying, you opted to keep kissing him: his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, everywhere your lips could reach.

He falls onto the bed with a soft rustling noise from the sheets, and climbing on top of him, you greedily grind your clothed cunt on his hardening cock under his jeans.

“Oh fuck, don't do that, not in that dress. I'm gonna cum like in my pants like a loser.” He smiles at you, nose wrinkling in a light-hearted grimace.

“Oh, Channie,” you started, “I only got this dress so you could take it off.”

A pathetic moan leaves him, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips jump, his hard cock pressing onto you.

Your lips meet his again. He swallows your sighs of content when his bulge bumps against your throbbing clit, his hands running up your thighs, hot palms dragging up the length of them under the fabric of your dress.

Grabbing handfuls of your ass, Chan keeps the pace as you continue to grind on him, swallowing each other's noises of desperation.

Chan holds you close to him as he flips you both over, rolling you on your back, his lips reluctantly detaching from yours to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your throat, letting out quiet moans at the taste of it.

Sucking on a specific spot on your neck, Chan's fingers hook on the straps of your dress to shimmy it off of you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Now, almost naked in front of him, you paw at his clothes. He pants as he shrugs off his jacket and takes his shirt off, your bare chests pressing against each other's as your lips meet for another feverish kiss.

“Chan, get naked quicker, please- I– I need you inside me so badly.” You whimpered, not caring if you seemed too needy because soon after, Chan's jeans and boxers are on the floor, and his hard cock slaps on his abs, his tip red, angry, leaking for you. Just looking at it, you’re convinced that thing could easily reach up to your throat.

Ripping your panties off, Chan gets on top of you. “Fuck, you're so wet, lemme hit, babe.” Laughing, you give him the go ahead. Then, his lips are on yours, kissing you as a very large cock tries to split you open.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, the satisfying burn of his cock occupying all of your thoughts, successfully dicknotizing you.

Chan wastes no time to set a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass while his pelvis deliciously hits your clit. Clawing at his sheets, you let out loud, unashamed moans, not caring if someone at the relatively calm frat party downstairs heard you.

“Fuck, do you know how long I've dreamt of this? Finally getting to fuck this pussy like it's mine? Are you mine, babe?” Chan babbled, pussy drunk and distracted by your tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts.

You're no better than him, already so out of it that you can’t even process the filthy confessions leaving Chan's mouth. Licking your lips, you tilt your head up to suck marks into his skin, burgundy bruises soon blooming as his hips stutter.

The desperate slapping sounds of your groins meeting shift to shallow ones as you both near your climaxes, Chan letting out precious little gasps and cut-off moans with every thrust.

Not doing any better than him, you whine, dragging your nails down his back, angry red lines appearing on his skin at their wake.

Then, your highs hit you at the same time, white hot pleasure seeping into your bones and boiling under your skin, ears ringing and vision blurring. With a gasp, Chan spills his load deep inside your gummy walls, making your cunt clench around him, sticking to him like a second skin.

Still in that post-orgasm bliss, Chan's hips don't stop moving. stretching your pussy with his cock over and over again, making you both dizzily cling to each other, bodies shivering, mouths drinking in the other's whimpers.

Chan was rutting his hips into yours like he'd perish if he stopped, both of you cringing from over stimulation, Chan sobbing about how good being inside of you felt. Even after just orgasming not 10 seconds ago, he's still hard and desperate to dump another load into you.

You're not sure if your night would end, even after the 4th time he made you cum.

636 notes · View notes

artists-ally · 5 months ago

Text

{Acid nor Alkaline} Reader x Sub!Azriel

We hit 800 followers!!! Thank y'all so much for the never ending support, and we haven't even hit the year mark yet!!! Crazy shit. I love you all so so much, so enjoy this very very disgusting smut fic about Az being a naughty little boy. Enjoyyyy!! Title inspired by this song. p.s. thank you @sarawritestories for giving me some of the most wonderful ideas for this and a possible new series coming your way 🤫

Word Count: 6,117

Warnings: SMUT. Loads of it (😏), Dom!Reader, Sub!Azriel, degrading, sex as punishment, teasing, overstimulation, bondage, oral (m receiving), brat taming, humiliation, bit of unexplored voyerism.

Tagging: @velariscalling @d3ad-ins1de @a-courtof-azriel @artof-aristocracy @fourthwing4ever @librafairy @needylilgal022 @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars

Summary: You put Azriel on a sex ban after he came without permission.

~~~~~

“I did not give you permission.”

“P-Please Yn-”

“Not yet,” I reprimand, shoving Azriel’s shoulders flat on the bed. “I told you no.”

Az pants. Mouth open, chest rising and falling under my palms. “Please, Yn. I-I need it so bad.”

“No you don’t. You’ll do exactly what I asked because you’re my good boy. Behave. You know I’m not afraid to punish you.”Az grit his teeth, hands coming to my hips. “Uh uh,” I click my tongue, forcing his hands off my body. “I didn’t say you could touch either.”

“Fuuuuck,” he whines, bending his knees and using that leverage to fuck into me. “Please please please.”

“No,” I snapped, climbing off his lap. Off where he needs me most. “Didn’t I tell you to stop? Are you trying to be a fucking brat?”

“Y-Yn-”

“I did not give you permission to act like a spoiled little brat. Do you wanna cum? Do you wanna feel good? Only I get to decide. This cock is mine. You cum when I tell you.”

“Oh…oh fuck fuck fuck-”

I look down at Azriel’s dick, a sloppy, leaking mess. His cum runs down the side of himself, down the inside of his thigh. His eyes are screwed shut and he babbles like an idiot. Shock and utter disbelief slams into me.

“You are so pathetic Az,” I shake my head. “Couldn’t wait for me to tell you when? That desperate? Such a fucking slut. A dumb, pussy drunk slut.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, though his eyes didn’t convey it.

“Oh, I bet you are. Well, you’re gonna be really fucking sorry after I’m done with you. No more playing until I find a suitable punishment for your actions.”

His eyes widened in horror. “No playing? As in… no sex? At all?”

“You need to learn what self control means, Az,” I brush the hair out of his eyes, putting a sickly sweet smile on my lips. “Until you can understand how to obey me, you get nothing. No touches, no kisses, no getting off in the shower.”

I watch him swallow. “H-How did you know I was-”

“I know everything you do when it comes to your pleasure, Az. You thought you could hide it from me? You think you’re so clever? Oh Az, you’re even more pathetic than I thought you were. Don’t worry, I’ll make it all worth it in the end. But just know, you won’t be getting off easy. You’ll get punished for this, as well as finishing the punishment you were already taking. And I can’t forget about all the times you got off without me.”

“Yn I was just-”

“I don’t wanna hear your fucking excuses,” I yell, gripping his jaw so his eyes locked on me. So I know he’s gonna hear what I have to say. “Here are the rules: you are not allowed to touch me. You are not allowed to kiss me. You are not allowed to touch yourself. Are. We. Clear?”

I revel in the way his face falls. True, raw sadness seeping into his beautiful hazel eyes.

Azriel nods weakly. I tighten my grip on his chin as well as thread my fingers through his hair. I yank. Hard. “Yes yes yes we’re clear.”

“Good boy.”

~~~~~

Azriel was losing his mind. I can tell by the way he sits. By the way he stands. It is killing him inside not to touch me. I made him start sleeping in a different bed just to add insult to injury. On day four, both Rhys and Cassian had to ask me what was up with him. They had never seen him so distracted during one of their training sessions.

My reply was simple: Azriel knew better, and he got what he deserved.

By the end of week one he started to follow me around like a lost pet. He clung to my side, staying just in my peripherals. Those wicked shadows grew tense. Every once in a while I would watch him get undressed, watching as he had to force himself to not touch. It seemed like he was always rock hard too. Every time I looked, he was ready to go.

I was talking with Mor earlier in the day about Az’s… situation, and she suggested I try a different approach to the punishment. Truly test his determination and ability to not fold under pressure. Surely our courts Spymaster will be able to handle a little bit of torture, won’t he?

Simply because I cannot be that cruel, I give him one of his privileges back. He’s allowed to kiss me again, but he’s not allowed to touch me. I know it will be extra brutal considering just how much he loves to play with my hair or grab my ass while making out.

He’s still not allowed to sleep in our bed, and he’s still not allowed to touch himself. Unless I give him explicit permission. I know he hasn’t cheated, otherwise I would’ve felt it down the bond. There’s no way for him to hide his pleasure from me.

Mor, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Az and I are heading out to Rita’s tonight. They are having live musicians and Mor made a huge effort to make sure the crowd would be good. Whatever that means. We all head to our respective rooms and homes to get ready, and I start to make good on my plan.

“Az, my love, can you come help me?” I call from the bedroom.

My shadow emerges from the bathroom, Illyrian armor giving off its natural sheene. “Yes?”

I have my backside facing him, completely naked. I make a show of bending over and grabbing my two dress options off of the bed. “Which one do you think will go better? Mor is wearing red and Feyre is wearing black.”

One dress was made of what looked like crushed emeralds. It was glittery and shiny and the most beautiful shade of deep forest green. The other was midnight blue to match Azriels siphons.

I already know which one he’s gonna pick, but I just wanna see him fight the urge to touch me.

He swallows, eyes far from the dress as they settle on my chest… on my stomach… down my thighs. Fuck, those eyes of his do things to me I never thought possible. I clear my throat, and he snaps his eyes to me. “T-The blue one.”

“Hmm, thought so,” I smiled, turning around to put the green one back in the closet. I unzip the back, stepping into it. I can feel his eyes track my every movement. It’s like he's never seen me before and he’s worried I’ll disappear on him. My best guess is he’s savoring what he’s been given because he doesn’t know when he’ll have me next.

My arms reach around and over my shoulder, trying to get the zipper. It’s so tiny and slippery.

“May I?” Azriel asks quietly.

I look over my shoulder at my poor boy. Gods he looks so distraught. And there's more than a tent in his armored pants. A wild grin spreads across my face. “No, you may not.”

Az lets out a whimper.

“You did this to yourself, Az,” I remind the Shadowsinger.

“Please, Yn,” he pleads, coming to stand right behind me. Warmth and need flow down the bond between us. “I’m sorry for being bad. I should’ve listened to you, I shouldn’t have been so selfish.”

A confession? Awww, so sweet. How dumb does he think I am? “I accept your apology.”

The light shines in his eyes as he picks up his head. “Really?”

“Yes, my love,” I nod, fixing a bit of his hair in the front. Azriel’s eyes close and he tries to lean into the touch. I rip my hand away before he can feel my skin. “But that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”

His eyes fly open. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” I narrowed my eyes, standing almost chest to chest with him. “You didn’t listen to me, so I will not hear your desperate, whining pleas. You did this to yourself, sweetie. This is a part of your punishment, you’ll be done suffering when I say so.”

“Yn this is cruel.”

An idea flickered to life in my head. “Would you like to see cruel?”

Eyes widening, Azriel’s face drained of color. “No no wait–”

“On the bed.”

“Wait Yn I didn’t–”

“On. The. Bed. Make me ask again and I’ll bring out the cuff and make you wear it all night at Rita’s.”

He was quick to sit on the bed. I knelt in front of him. I ripped down his armor and took him into my mouth, the familiar taste of him welcoming me. Azriel groaned, but he did a good job at keeping his hands to himself.

He shivered with every touch, ever passing of my tongue over his sensitive skin. I almost felt bad for what I was about to do. He’ll understand once it’s all said and done. Why he shouldn't ever disobey me again.

“Wanna see how cruel I can be Az?” Already fucked out, he shook his head, his hair falling in front of his face as it lulls towards his chest. “For every letter of that word, I’m gonna bring you right to the edge, and then let you come all the way down. I’m gonna give the meaning of cruel a new definition tonight.”

“No… no Yn please let me cum,” Azriel begs.

I laughed, loud and giggly right in his face. “Aww Az, I know you’re gonna be such a good boy and take your punishment so well, aren’t you baby? Yes, that’s it, give in to me. You know you need it, don’t fight it, just let me ruin you.”

~~~~~

By the time we made it to Rita’s, an hour had passed. The others were wondering what the delay was, but they took one look, one scent of the air and didn’t ask another question for the rest of the night. Azriel didn’t move from our table and didn’t take a single sip of his drink. He, genuinely, sat and watched the ice melt.

“Yn Yn Yn,” Feyre calls, dragging me off the dance floor to the bar. “Don’t you think it’s fucking with Az a little too much?”

“Pff,” I snort, “If you saw the things he does to me you’d think I was being generous.”

“I’m just saying he’s your mate. It goes against every instinct in his body to not touch you or be near you. Are you sure he’s… okay?”

“Yes,” I nodded confidently. “We had a lengthy conversation before it began, and he was up for the challenge. He told me if he couldn’t stand it anymore, he’d tell me. And I’d listen. I’d be able to feel it if he was genuinely, whole-heartedly being compromised by the game.”

“So how does he feel then?” My High Lady asks, a smile curving onto her lips.

I look back at my mate, finding his eyes already glued to my back. I just give a little wave of his fingers. He downs his drink in one gulp. “I’d say he’s feeling pretty guilty for what he did. But, at the same time, he’s never felt so satisfied in his whole life.”

~~~~~

By the end of week two, everyone is just as surprised as I am at how long this is going on. Az stopped caring about who knew, openly complaining about how needy he was. He was definitely gaining a bit of an attitude. I think he needs a bit of correction.

I strolled into the common room of the Town House and found my family sitting around. They had cards on the table and glasses of wine spread about. Amren currently had the biggest stack of chips in front of her. Rhys, Cass, Mor and Az all had close to none.

“Sorry,” Amren grinned. “But that makes a full house.”

As she fanned the cards on the table, everyone else groaned, sacrificing their chips to Amren. “How do you manage to win every time?”

“Because she cheats,” Mor pouted, crossing her arms over the pillow in her lap.

“Please, you and I both know that Cassian is the one who cheats.”

“I am not!” The Illyrian counters, slamming his fist down on the table. It rattled Amren's stacks, a few sliding over. Everyone around gave him a look. “Okay maybe here and there-”

“I’ve been telling you for years,” Az joined in. “Cass has been secretly stealing chips from my piles when we play. And none of you have ever believed me.”

“That’s because you’ve grown soft in your old age,” Rhys grinned, making Mor snicker. “Speaking of old age, I’m getting pretty tired of you moping around. Feels like it’s been an eternity. When is- oh! Yn, perfect timing. When are you gonna be nice and dick down Azriel?”

Amren just rolled her eyes, but Cassian and Mor cackled to the heavens.

I came and sat beside Mor on the rug, leaning into her side. “I’m not sure. Az, when are you gonna stop being a brat so I can give you what you’ve earned?”

The temperature in the room dropped significantly. A new tinge of red splattered Azriel’s cheeks. Clearly he wasn’t expecting me to be so bold with my answer.

“Have I not been good?”

“You’ve been complaining,” I said. “Not necessarily the good behavior I’ve been looking for. Oh well, maybe we can try again next week.”

A collective groan came from everyone besides Azriel. “Wait, seriously?”

Oh, now we’re talking through the bond?

“Yes, seriously.”

He sighed. “Yn this is–”

“Just know torture has far more letters than cruel, darling. We know what happened last time.”

I sent my mate images of him sprawled on the bed, body flush with need. His legs were spread open by my hands as I brought him to the edge five times over, but never let him release. By the third, I think he stopped feeling it all together. He was too sensitive and too desperate. He was whining and drooling like a mutt in heat. He was slick with sweat, thighs shaking as I used my mouth and hand at the same time.

Azriel’s eyes shot away from me as the memory faded.

“Are you sure you wanna test my patience again?”

“No…”

“That’s what I thought.”

“This is getting to be too much.”

“You’ll take as much as I say you will. Got it?”

Azriel still refused to look at me, so I ever so ‘gently’ sent some impulses down his body. He jolted, rising to his feet immediately. “That was not funny.”

“I never said I was trying to be funny.”

“Will you two take your lover quarrel elsewhere? It’s starting to stink in here,” Mor pinched her nose for dramatic effect, Cassian joining in.

I grinned at Az, “Gladly. Az, let’s go.”

“But we just started a new–”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” I say, narrowing my eyes and making my way to the door.

He huffed, but grabbed his armored coat and followed behind me. “You’re being exceptionally demanding.”

I whirled around on my foot, Az slamming into my chest. “Wanna say that again?”

His mouth slammed shut as he took a step back. I didn’t miss the way his hands shot out to try to clamp onto me. His shoulders tensed and his heart started racing. It was like thunder in my ears, as strong as my own pulse down the bond.

“Do you think I’m above putting you on your knees and making them watch in that living room?”

The way his eyes widened would’ve made me laugh under any other circumstance. His body was rigid. He looked so small despite being a head and a half taller than me.

“What do you say I make them watch as I give you a suitable punishment for your behavior in there. Do you think they’d like the show? Watching you turn into a whining, shivering, pathetic boy? Aww I bet you’d like it too. Having all the attention as I tell them about how you came when you weren’t supposed to. How you’ve been so rude and inconsiderate when it comes to the pleasure only I get to give you. Or maybe I make them punish you. They all get a turn to make you bend to their needs. I know you’d like that, you can’t even deny it. You’re so worked up by just my words. I haven’t even touched you.”

Az just stands there, stunned, arms slack at his side. His mouth gapes open to speak, but he never does.

“Gods Azriel you are such a slut for me. You can’t even contain yourself anymore. Two weeks without my hands on your body and you’re falling apart. Pathetic. You’re so fucking pathetic Azriel. Maybe I will give you a new punishment. If you wanna cum so badly, maybe I do just that. Make you cum until nothing comes out. Drain you of every last drop so you can stop being so desperate.”

“Please…” He begs. One knee at a time, he falls to the ground, eyes wide. “Gods Yn I’d take anything you’d give me. Just please touch me. I-I need it so bad. I miss your touch, I miss your tongue and your hands and your pussy so much. I need it. I’ve never needed something so bad in my life.”

He’s breaking down. This is perfect. He’s just on the edge of incoherent and exactly where I want him when I give him his actual punishment. This has all been built up to the grand finale. To have tension so when I give him the final one, he cracks like an egg in the palm of my hand. He won’t be able to resist obeying me.

I just giggle at him, turning over my shoulder, and open up the door. “Let's go.”

He doesn’t hesitate to follow a second time.

~~~~~

“Azzzrieeeel,” I called, wondering where he went off to. It’s the end of week three and I decided he’s had enough. I’m just too excited to watch him fall apart at my hands. He disappeared a little while ago.

I can’t hear or see him, but I know he’s in his room. The tap is running in the bathroom, muffling the sounds. I sit patiently on the bed.

Az has been good after our talk. He has retreated back to his quiet, broody self. No longer complaining about how viscous I am. I could’ve made true on my threat about bending him over in front of them, but I decided to spare him.

He should be so grateful.

The door clicked open and Az jumped back at the sight of me on the bed. I just had a silk robe on. One he bought for me. It was black, but in the right light, it shifted to blue. This electric, start ridden blue that he loved to take off of me. This is not the first copy of this garment I’ve had.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and thick.

“Hi, pretty boy,” I said, watching the shiver go down his body. His cock started to swell immediately. I just smiled. “Are you ready for your punishment?”

Without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Just remember your privileges. Unless I give you permission, you’re not allowed. Understand?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he smiles, stepping closer and closer.

“Hmm,” I hum, “But you might. On the bed.”

Azriel ditches the towel that was hung low on his hips, cock hard and waiting for me.

“So hard already, what a good boy. Knowing exactly what I want.”

I crawl on my knees to where he’s sat and swing them over his thighs. His hands clench the bed cover, desperately trying to keep control of his touch. I slide up just enough that the tip of his cock is rubbing between my thighs. His eyes shut and he inhales deep.

“Be good.”

“I’m…” his whole body is vibrating. “I’m trying so fucking hard. I wanna be good. Wanna be your good boy tonight.”

I laugh softly, taking his chin in my hand. His eyes are dilated, lips are swollen from him chewing on them to resist giving in. “You are being such a good boy Azzie, keep your hands juuuust like that and this’ll be over soon enough.”

He’s gonna wish that were true.

I slide back and forth, grinding on him to relieve my own pressure that’s built up. Counterintuitively, I’ve also placed myself on a sex ban. And it has not been easy. I’m pent up and desperate in my own way for the feeling of his length inside me.

Azriel begins to squirm and I have to remind him to be still. He immediately obeys, fists continuing to strangle this poor bed cover. I slide the rest of the way over his dick, relishing in the way his body relaxes.

“Does that feel good, baby? Did you miss my pussy so much?”

“Yes…” He sighs, eyes lulling shut. With every roll of my hips, a new sound comes out of him. Each one more breathy than the last. “Fuck… t-thank you, Yn.”

“Aww, already turning up the charm are we? I think you’ve earned a little reward.” I lean forward and gently kiss his lips, just barely touching the surface of his skin. He doesn’t lean in, he doesn’t chase, he sits there patiently like the good boy I know he can be.

I push on my knees and rise up, settling all the way down on his length. Over and over I bounce in his lap, content at the feeling of him hitting all my spots. I gently kiss him, running my tongue over his bottom lip. I’m met with a heady moan, Azriel’s shoulders relaxing down.

Time to turn up the heat.

“Azriel,” I pant against his lips.

“Yes, my lady?” He breathes, pupils dilated, breath hot against my own.

I grin at him. “You’re not allowed to kiss me anymore.”

I watch his eyes fall, I can feel the disappointment down the bond. “Okay.”

“No kissing, no touching,” I reminded him.

“No kissing…” I trail my tongue up his neck, biting down on his ear. “N-No touching.”

Az says it twice more, like a long forgotten prayer. An ancient mantra of self control. He’d need it for my next plan.

I spend the next little while taking him fully, up and down and up and down. Cascading my nails down his shoulders and arms, my lips over his neck and chest. He is a whining, uncontrollable mess. The veins in his forearms are swollen with adrenaline, full from his death grip on the sheets.

Shadows swirl around our bodies, the fog like caress cooling my skin with every touch.

I push him flat on the bed, using my hands on his chest as more leverage. I work myself on him, relishing in the strength he’s showing. The shere restraint he has. The discipline. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s learned his lesson.

But I did know better. And I can’t wait to break him.

I reach down and rub my clit gently. The stretch of his cock buried deep in me adds the extra stimulation I need. I’m so sensitive. After three weeks of no action, which I know is my fault, I’m right on the edge.

“You wanna make me cum, Azriel?”

“F-Fuck yes, Yn, please,” Az begs. “I wanna make you cum so bad. You deserve it.”

“Mmm,” I hum, circling my finger softly. I muster up the most sickly-sweet voice I can. “Such a good boy, Azzie. Get me there, please I need you.”

I watch as he lifts his head, right hand unfurling from his grip on the bed. He reaches across his body, his thumb ready to take over. But just before he touches me where I need him most, he stops, eyes locking with mine.

“Please give me permission,” he begs. His hand is literally trembling.

“Fuck, Az, I need it. Touch me please baby I want you to make me cum.”

“I-I need permission, I can’t touch you,” he begs, eyes going a little stupid.

A wicked, evil look crosses over my features. Time to really mess with him. “But I need it Az. I need you to make me cum. F-Fuck I need you Azriel please make me cum.”

“Just give me permission baby and I’ll bring the stars down for you,” he promises. Going back to fisting the sheets in his fingers. “F-Fuck Yn please give me permission. I’ve been such a good boy, let me prove how good I can be just give me-”

I hopped off his lap, not missing the guttural noise that came from him. I walked over to the dresser against the wall and took out the bundle of rope I hid a few days ago. I’m not entirely sure how he didn’t find it. I had it specially made for this night a few days ago.

Azriel is going to hate it.

I unwind it, stretching it between my arms. I come back to the edge of the bed and curl my finger at him, beckoning him to sit upright. He rises up and scoots closer to me. I take a second to just look at my Shadowsinger. His chest is flushed, those whirling, bargain tattoos moving with each breath. His hair is a tousled mess, going this way and that. His lips are pink and swollen, just like his tip. I bend forward, gently running my tongue over his slit.

“F-Fuck,” he stammers out. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Stand up. Turn around. Arms behind your back.”

I see the conflict in his eyes, feel his hesitation down the bond. “You want to tie me up?”

“Oh Az,” I smiled sweetly, coming to stand in between his knees. I reached down, gripping him tightly in my palm. He hissed, entire body tensing up. “I’m going to do far worse things than tie you up. Now be a good boy and give me your hands.”

Eagerly, he stood up, putting his back to me. His hands neatly folded together, fingers interlaced. I trailed the end of the rope down the center of his back, over the crest of his wings. I loved the way his body rippled, loved the way his muscles twitched and his skin crawled with need.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” I praised as I began to try the magic-hilted rope around his wrists. “My good boy, taking your punishment so well these last couple weeks. I know you loved it as much as I did, knowing it would be worth it for when I gave you your reward.”

“Anything to make you happy,” he breathed out, head lulling back when I gave them a firm tug. I opened that bond and let him see himself through my eyes. I could feel the way his body reacted. Every cell in his body rolled with this animalistic desire. This primal need to release.

“Sit,” I order, pushing down on his shoulder until he sits on the edge of the bed. I crawl into his lap, guiding him deep inside me. A content sigh leaves my lips at the feeling of our bodies being reunited. “Az?”

His eyes roll shut when I move my hips back and forth. “Y-Yes?”

“You can touch me now, I give you permission.”

Two things happened. I watched the relief flood his body, feeling it as if it was my own. I watched his face and shoulders relax. Then, I watched him try to move his arms. And a sick, twisted, ruthless grin curled my lips.

Watching him struggle, knowing it would be useless, was a different type of arousal. The fibers of muscles in his shoulders strained, veins bulging down his arms and up his neck as he struggled.

“Wh-What the fuck are these ropes?” He grunted, pulling and pulling to no avail.

“I had them warded by a sorcerous in town,” I smiled, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Specially crafted so that only I can undo them.”

“You…” he cried out, struggling against them one last time before grunting out a breath. “You are ruthless.”

“Yup,” I agreed, gripping his midnight black locks as hard as I could. “And you fucking love it. Wanna play a game, baby?”

“I wanna touch you, that's what I wanna do. Please undo the ropes, my love. Please,” Azriel begs.

“Uh uh uh,” I shake my head, swiveling my hips, adoring the way he moans. “I’m not done with you yet. I’m gonna stay right here, doing whatever I fucking please to you, and you’re going to keep trying to break the ropes. You have all your privileges back, you can touch me, you can kiss me. But you are not allowed to cum. Understand?”

“Yn please baby, I-I just wanna worship you, just untie me and I can make you cum as many times as–”

“Understand?” I raised my eyebrows, flatting him on the bed with both my hands on his chest.

“Y-Yes,” he breathes out, eyes trained on the ceiling. I let up, releasing him from his pinned position, and he shot up, lips trailing all over my skin. Like my body was his first breath of air, he drank me in as fast as he could. I felt him throb inside me, tiny, pathetic whimpers spilling out of his lips.

“Aww you wanna touch me so bad don’t you? Fuck me on your cock, hmm?” I teased, my own touches light against his shimmering skin.

“Fuck Yn I want it so bad,” he bucked up his hips.

“Just give in, Azriel,” I taunted, matching his thrusts. “Beg me to untie your hands so you can finally touch what's yours.”

He shook his head, gasping for a breath when I reached behind me and cupped him in my hands. “No? You don’t wanna touch me? Grab my hips as you fuck me hard and fast? Don’t wanna taste my pussy? You sure?”

“Oh fuck Yn,” he grit his teeth. I could feel the muscles in his thighs quiver.

“Don’t cum yet, I haven’t given you permission,” I whispered in his ear, relishing the way he tried to run from me. “Aww, what? You can’t handle it? You’ll be done taking your punishment when I say so. You were such a bad boy, Azriel. You know I have to make sure you won’t ever do it again. Now be a good boy and break the ropes, touch me. I need you to touch me so so badly. You don’t wanna disobey me again do you?”

“No no no just let me–”

“Come onnn,” I purr, tilting my head and lowering my voice. “Be my good good boy, Azriel. Break the ropes for me. I know you need me sooo bad. Just be my good little boy and make me happy.”

“But I c-can’t I need you to untie them,” he huffed, arms bulging behind his back.

I took a good look at him, at his flushed chest and the veins running the length of his biceps. Fuck he looked…

I clenched tight around him, shivering when I heard him cry out.

“Aww what’s wrong baby?” I cooed, cupping his face gently in my palms.

“I wanna fill you up so bad, Yn,” he cried out, chest heaving for air. “Please let me cum, I wanna cum so bad I need to cum–”

“Not yet, pretty boy,” I denied, and Azriel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Not until you get out of the binds.”

“But I can’t!” He croaked. “I can’t I can’t I can’t”

“Oh but you’re going to,” I gripped his chin, forcing his eyes to mine. Cauldron above he looked drunk off of me. “Or you can give in, admit defeat and I’ll untie them for you. Come on sweetness, give in.”

I began to bounce up and down on his cock, going all the way up and all the way down. I felt the convulsion run through his entire body. Every time I came down on him, he let out these little noises. Whimpers and soft frustrated groans of pure torture.

“Don’t you wanna make me cum?” I circled my clit, shivering out a breath. “Don’t you want to be the one to make me cum all over your cock? Please baby, make me cum all over you.”

He let out a string of curses, trying to gain some leverage to fuck into me. “Please please please please please.”

“Use your big boy words, Azzie, what do you want?”

“Oh fuck fuck fuck, Yn. Yn… Yn please oh gods Yn please please–”

“You wanna cum, huh?” He nodded, complete fucked out and gone.

“So fucking bad Yn I need it. I’ve been such a good boy for you. I’m sorry for disobeying you. I’m sorry for talking back and being difficult. Just please let me cum I wanna be such a good boy and do it just for you. Fill you up so much, watch it spill out of you. Please let me cum please Yn I can’t hold it back any more please fuck–”

“You want me to stop?” He shook his head rapidly. “I haven’t given you permission to cum, baby. Don’t cum. Do you want me to stop?”

“No no no I wanna cum–”

“I don’t care if you wanna cum,” I grinned, fuccking him harder. “Your job is to please me, and I won’t be pleased if you don’t follow my orders, remember how you got here in the first place. Tell. Me. To. Stop. A good boy would tell his lady to stop.”

He heaved for a breath, gulping air down, a useless mess of moans and pleasure sounds. “S-S-Stop.”

I halted my hips, brushing his hair away from his face as I kissed up and down his neck. “Good boy, Azriel. Such a good boy for me, yes.”

I reached around and undid the one knot holding the binds in place. They fell off his wrists and he sobbed in relief, a few tears streaking down his face. A few landed on my chest.

“Lick them up,” I ordered.

Without a second thought, he licked his tears off my chest. I massaged his shoulders and slowly, so slowly, his hands came to cup my ass. His hands were vibrating with energy. He watched with bated breath to see how I’d react.

“My good boy,” I praised, kissing his cheek. “You wanna make me cum?”

“Please.”

“Get to it then,” I smiled, kissing his lips fiercely. For a moment, he forgot the task at hand, falling deep into the reunification of our lips.

I was on my hands and knees the next second. I had to brace one hand on the headboard so he would plow me through it completely. Using his wings for leverage, gusts of wind sending goosebumps across my skin, he fucked into me as hard as he could.

“F-Fuck Az– you feel so good,” I said.

“Cum on my cock, my love,” he insisted, and who was I to deny him.

Just like he promised, stars lined my vision. I came hard enough to more or less paralyze my entire body. I slumped on my chest, content to let him do whatever he wanted. He had served his punishment well enough.

I rocked with his body as he fucked into me. He was so fucking deep.

“Y-Yn please–”

“Cum, Azriel.”

As if my very word granted his body, Azriel thrusted twice before going still, wings pumping behind him. I felt every inch of him inside me, every throb and pulse of his release. I could feel it seep down the inside of my thigh.

He pulled out quickly, collapsing on the bed. I looked over my shoulder to make sure he was okay, still seeing his chest rising and falling.

On shaky, stiff legs, I crawled over to him, placing my hand on his chest. “You were such a good boy. My good good boy, Azriel.”

He gave a limp thumbs up. I chuckled.

“You okay?” I asked, kissing some of the marks I left on his bronze skin.

“Mhmm,” he nodded, voice a little garbled.

“I’ll go start a bath, then we can relax and soak for a while, sound good?”

“Yes please,” he nodded, nuzzling his body into mine as best he could. “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. Thank you for being a good boy for me.”

"Wait, Yn," he grabbed my hand, pulling me back when Is tood up to go to the washroom.

"Yes baby?" I asked.

"I love you," he smiled.

"I love you, my shadow."

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar smut #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel acotar #smut #azriel spymaster #azriel imagine #azriel x you

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luvknow · 8 months ago

Text

sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill’, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ’”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn’t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers.

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The… The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights.

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. “Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

#lee minho #lee minho imagines #skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #lee know fic #lee know x reader #romance #friends-to-strangers-to-lovers #angst #emotional hurt with comfort #a doozy................. my longest one yet me thinks #nawt to bring in one piece but the way i screamed TAKT looking at that minho pic yeah

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gremlinbean · 1 year ago

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Elliot in a tank top serving food and looks

#hes so hot #i cant even #im gay #lee watches leverage #leverage #leverage the wedding job

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giggly-squiggily · 1 month ago

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Waugh, right on the deadline! For your sentence starters, can you do lee!chuuya, ler!reader, romantic with "I'm gonna fucking kil- mmph! " Please? I just love the cute angry ginger.

{Puffs are now CLOSED!}

No worries, anon- you were right on time! :D Ooo, I love me some good ol' Chuuya! He's such a darling! Angry gingers for the WIN! I've gotcha covered!

CW: swearing

“Shh…” You hushed your boyfriend, ears trained for footsteps. It was late- really late. You shouldn’t be here right now. Alas, you made the dumb mistake of leaving your phone here in Mori’s office.

A phone in which you suddenly couldn’t find despite checking the surrounding area.

“This is ridiculous! He’s gonna use us as test subjects for the drugs he’s making!” Chuuya growled in your ear, squashed beneath his boss’ desk with you half-on top of him.

“You didn’t have to come!” You whispered back.

“You’d die if you went by yourself! I’m not letting my partner get hurt-” You slapped a hand over his mouth when you felt footsteps approaching. The both of you froze as the door creaked open.

Not good, not good, not good at all! You went to adjust your position against Chuuya, your hands pressing into his sides and making him suck in a muted breath. He mouthed your name, but you were too busy peeking overhead.

Without meaning to, your fingers curled into his stomach.

“Heh” Chuuya let out a near audible gasp, muted only by your hand. He squeezed his eyes shut against the ticklish feeling coursing through his system as you kept watch. “C-Careful You’re tickling me!”

“Keep quiet! I think someone’s coming.” You whispered back, pressing in more to get more leverage. Chuuya was shaking with repressed mirth, grabbing at the hand against his belly. Eventually, you lowered yourself back down- smiling sheepishly at him. “False alarm. Hey, I didn’t know you were ticklish here.”

“I’m going to fucking kil-Mmmph!” He was silenced once more, this time by your lips. The sudden change was welcomed, but now was not the time to make out! He was about to say so when-

“Here.” A hand lowered down, your phone gleaming in the light. “I picked it up before he could see it. Don’t be so careless next time.”

“Thanks Ryu.” You smiled up at Akutagawa while Chuuya sputtered and blushed. “If anyone asks-”

“You were never here.” He nodded back to you, gesturing to you both to get out. Once you were free from Mori’s office, Chuuya caught sight of you slipping the brunette a bar of chocolate.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” You waved as he faded into the dark, taking Chuuya’s hand and walking home. “I should have checked with him first.”

“Yeah. Hey- why’d you kiss me? You could have easily shut me up with your hand again.” He watched your face, taking in the happy smile you wore.

“Felt like it.” You winked, making him blush all over. You ran before he could explode, laughing as he chased you home.

#Puffs #sentence starters #tickle #tickle dabble #bsd #chuuya nakahara #reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #Port Mafia!reader #Aku once again being swayed by chocolate heheajhrhjearhjaehjraehjkrhjk

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samcrosfaith · 25 days ago

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GONE WITH THE SIN / CHAPTER ONE

Happy Lowman x fem!reader

authors note; First chapter is out, yay! I'm really excited for this story and hope you are, too! I appreciate every like, comment and/or reblog. Enjoy reading. You can find all chapters for this story in my main masterlist {pinned post}, it'll lead you to the right masterlist. 🖤🍒

warning ⚠️; mention of blood.

tag list; @adoreemee @mamawiggers1980 @tommyflanaganfan-blog @delightfulheroshoeflap @jp1019 / If you want to get tagged just let me know in the comments!

word count; 2165

IT WAS THE MIDDLE of the day when more and more cars filled the lot. Women and children got out, heavy bags slung over their shoulders as they were greeted by the members and escorted inside. Wives, mothers, childrenᅳ anyone close to a son.

Jax watched the whole thing from one of the picnic tables, preparations for the lockdown in full swing, a cigarette hanging between his lips, the smoke dancing lazily in front of his face while Tara and Lyla looked after their kids and the other children inside to take some of the work off the upset mothers.

He looked at his phone again, sighing deeply and frowning as he read the new message from his little sisterᅳ half-sister to be exact, but he didn't make a distinction.

'I told you I couldn't come. I'll be fine, Jaxᅳ stop worrying. Take care of yourselves and give me updates, hear me? Love you.'

"No chance?" Chibs appeared behind Jax, the wood of the table creaking as he sat down next to the blonde and fished a cigarette out of his crumpled pack. "Ye' kno' we can just get her. Or we call Lee t' send a prospect from Tacoma."

"Nah, she'll flip if I send someone she doesn't know to keep an eye on her", Jax replied with the slightest of grins, knowing how much Randi hated having strangers around. "But we have to do something, we can't just risk something happening to her."

Being the daughter of the former Pres, the sister of the new Pres and the former Old Lady of the Tacoma Killer made Randi a target. Enemies would know that they would hurt the club by using SAMCRO's princess as leverage, maybe even harming her. And if they did enough research, they knew Randi existed.

"No, we can't, yer' right abou' that." If there was one thing Chibs didn't want, it was for something to happen to the young woman, the younger Teller, just like Jax, just as important to him than his own child. "Clay didn't get through t' her either?"

"No, not even Clay", the blonde sighed before flicking away the rest of his cigarette and straightening up. "I'll talk to Mom, maybe I'll head up there myself."

"Aye, but yer' not drivin' alone, Jackie", Chibs insisted sternly. "It's not safe right now."

"I know, brother", Jax nodded curtly and slapped Chibs' back before strolling towards the office to talk to Gemma. With a small smile, he leaned in the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets, as he watched his mom for a while, the matriarch engrossed in her work. "You know there are no customers coming in the next few days, right? Stop workin' and sit down with Tara and Lyla."

Gemma, her head still hovering over the paperwork, just waved her hand. "I need a distraction, otherwise I'll go crazy worrying about your stubborn sister."

Jax sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe to walk towards his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder once he stood behind her. "She just doesn't want to lose her job, can't you understand that?"

"Understand?" Snorting, Gemma put down the pen, jerking her head towards Jax. "She knows we don't call a lockdown unless it's really necessary! And she has the nerve to just tell me that she'll be fine. No job can be so important to!"

"Stop it", Jax warned, yet with a certain softness in his tone. With slow steps he sauntered to the small couch where he plopped down. "You know exactly how much this job means to her; dancing was all she's ever done, all she's ever wanted to do."

Gemma let out a huff, bracing her hands against her hip after she stood up. "You think I don't know that, smartass? I'm her mother, Jackson. And I'm happy for her, believe it or notᅳ but she has to come home, at least until the lockdown's over. Shit's getting serious and I'm not taking the risk of my babygirl getting hurt or worse."

"Aight", Jax nodded slowly, understanding where his mother was coming from, worry etched info his own features. "What if I head up there, stay with her until this is over? Tara and the boys are going to be safe here with you guys."

"Or", Gemma trailed, drumming her fingernails against the surface of the table after she had sat down on it. "We send Happy."

"No, Mom, stop it", the blonde warned again, followed by a deep, tired sigh as his mother just innocently shrugged her shoulders. "We can't do that to Hap, you know he's still not over her, not even close. It'll just rip open old wounds. And Randi's gonna rip out god damn heads off if we do that."

"Or their love is rekindled when they spend time together alone. Randi's gonna realize that she's still in love with him", Gemma lifted her hand as Jax was about to interrupt her. "I know she still loves him, I can hear it in her voice every time I mention him. So, why not?"

"Okay, even if she still loves him", Jax' voice dropped low just in case someone would walk by. "It still won't work out between them. His life is here, her life is in Seattle now. As much as I hate that she's so far away, she finally lives her dream."

Gemma waved her hand, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "She can't be that happy, Jax. She's got no one up there, not even a single friend. Her family is here, the man she lovesᅳ I don't buy this 'mom I'm really happy here' bullshit from her."

"Whatever, I'm not sending Hap up there", Jax said, his final decision made, which earned him a slightly annoyed look from his mother; but he didn't care, he wasn't going to hurt his brother on purpose just because they all wanted them back together. "Tell Clay to meet me in Church later, first I wanna talk to Tara about this."

ᅳ

CLAY LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR, his brow furrowed in thought. "And you're sure that's safe enough? It would be better if she came here, son."

"Yeah, maybe, but you know how stubborn she is. I can try to convince her to come back to Charming with me", Jax shrugged his shoulders, the only solution he could think of. "But I can't take her against her will, that would only drive her away from us."

"Yeah, I know", Clay grumbled, rubbing his chin with a sigh. Randi had definitely inherited her stubbornness from both Gemma and him. "And you takeᅳ"

Clay was interrupted by gunfire. Bullet after bullet pierced the walls, screaming and panic echoing through the clubhouse. With a quick movement, Jax dragged the older man to the ground, crossing the room close to the ground and then storming out of Chapel.

"Stay down", he hollered in Clay's direction before pushing past the panicked crowd, women and children getting shielded from other members. "Tara!"

No answer, not even when he yelled her name again over the loud shots and the breaking of windows and other things. He spotted Gemma, her body bent over Abel and Thomas', his younger son crying while Abel just clung to Gemma's arm, his eyes wide with fear.

Tig, his piercing blue eyes filled with rage and anger, looked around, his gaze sharp as he shielded Gemma's body with his so that in a bullet would hit him first instead of Gemma or the kids.

"Has anyone seen my wife?!" Jax yelled into the crowd, but apart from a few headshakes he got no answer, everyone too scared to even think clearly. "Fuck!"

Panic gripped him as he continued to search the room. Chibs was with Lyla, pushing her and Ope's children into a safe corner, the others were with their own Old Ladies and families. But Tara was nowhere.

"Jax, over here!" It was Bobby frantically waving him over, and Jax' eyes grew wide with fear.

Bobby sat on the floor next to the door, his hands pressed down to Tara's stomach. Blood seeped past them anyway, dripping from his wrists onto the sticky wooden floorboards, Tara's shirt already soaked in the red liquid.

Jax' heart sank as he slid to his knees, cupping Tara's face into his shaking hands, his wife barely able to keep her eyes open. "Hey, stay awake, you hear me? You can't do this to me, babe."

Happy, Quinn, and two others rushed past him, their guns clutched firmly in their hands as they rushed outside, firing shots. It took a moment, but the gunfire finally stopped and the loud screeching of tires drifted into the distance as Jax felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

"Chibs, I need you over here", Jax hollered as everything went silent for a moment, his blue eyes covered with a layer of unshed tears as Tara wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist.

"I need a hospital", she croaked, no judgement or anger in her voice, just fear. "You're taking care of the boys, you hear me? No matter what happensᅳ"

Jax shook his head, sniffling as he rubbed his thumbs over Tara's cheeks. "Don't even say it, babe. You'll be fine, I promise."

"Jesus Christ." Chibs took Bobby's place on the floor while Bobby already had his phone pressed against his ear and was calling an ambulance, the sirens of several police cars already blaring in the distance. "This is heavy, Jackson. If I do something now, I might make it worse."

"Oh my god", Gemma exclaimed, shielding the boys' view so they couldn't see their mother bleeding on the floor. "Tig, take the boys to mine and Clay's room, stay with them!"

The man with the dark curls hesitated for a moment, but his hands were already placed on the boys' shoulders. "Gemᅳ"

"Now, Tig", the matriarch barked before rushing to her son and Tara, but her scrutinizing gaze searched the clubhouse for Clay. She breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed out of Chapel and in her direction. "Oh, thank God, you're okay."

"I'm fine, baby. Are you?" Clay grabbed Gemma's shoulders, looking his wife up and down. He pulled her into a short hug, holding her tightly before he also saw what was going on. "Jesus Christ, this can't be true. The bastardsᅳ"

"We have one of them", Happy shouted as he and Quinn came back into the clubhouse, his gun pressed firmly against the back of the stranger's head, whom he pushed in front of him. "What do you want me to do with him?"

"Hide him, good. The cops are already on their way", Clay grumbled while Gemma sank to the ground next to Jax and placed her hands firmly on Tara's wound. "And then we'll let the bastard suffer. But not until we've taken care of everyone."

Happy nodded briefly, his answer just a low grunt as he was about to push the stranger further across the room and to the back of the clubhouse. But when Jax called out his name, he stopped abruptly and turned around.

He felt for his brother, his hard, unreadable gaze immediately softening when he saw the sheer panic in Jax' eyes, the man still holding his wife in his arms. If that was his Old Lady, Happy would lose his mind just as muchᅳ and for that alone he was willing to make the fucker in front of him suffer.

"What do you need, Pres?", he asked in a rasp while the other members around him tried to settle the chaos and take care of their families.

"I can't leave here right now", he said seriously, not ready to leave Tara alone right now. She needed him and he needed to know that she'd be okay. "I need you to check on Randi, stay with her until it's safe again. Please, Hap."

Jax trusted everyone in this room with his sister's life, but Happy was on a whole different level. Calculated, brutal and when it came to Randi, no matter how painful their break up had been, the killer would protect her with his life.

And that's why Jax wasn't surprised when Happy didn't even hesitate for a moment, instead he just nodded firmly. "I'll make sure nothing happens to her."

"Thank you", Jax replied sincerely as the first cops stormed through the door, causing a new kind of chaos.

Happy discreetly pushed the guy in front of him to the back of the clubhouse, threatening the man that he would find and kill his family if he said a word to the Cops. The SAA didn't know how the next few days would go, what it would be like to see Randi again for the first time in over a yearᅳ but he would sure as hell make sure that nothing happened to the woman under his watch, as much as he dreaded their first encounter.

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moon3verland · 3 months ago

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Guarded Hearts L.HS

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader GENRE! Angst, Fluff and Romance ✎SYNOPSIS! When (Name) becomes the unexpected target of a rival gang, Lee Heeseung, a powerful mafia boss, reveals himself as her secret protector. As Heeseung pulls her into his dangerous world of wealth, power, and betrayal, they must confront their growing feelings for each other while facing threats from every side.〘WC:9.0k 〙『 ↳✧･ﾟ Warnings ; Violence, gun use, mentions of blood, power dynamics, mafia themes, protective behaviour, mild swearing, and suggestive content. ↳˳;; ❝ ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱʜᴇʟꜰᵕ̈೫

The dim lighting of the city street flickered as Lee Heeseung stepped out of his sleek, black car, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses that gave him a detached, unreadable expression. The midnight air was crisp, but it carried the unmistakable tension of a man who was used to command and control. Heeseung's world was one of power plays and calculated risks, and tonight, he had come to collect a debt. More Undercut

A debt he had never planned on cashing in.

Heeseung’s sharp gaze scanned the surroundings, assessing the familiar quiet suburban neighborhood. The house at the end of the cul-de-sac, with its modest charm and warm lights glowing from the inside, seemed like a sanctuary—untouched by the shadows that loomed in his life. But that was an illusion. He knew better.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, reading the brief message from Jay, his trusted right-hand man: "She's still inside. No unusual movement."

Heeseung sighed, his jaw tightening. This was supposed to be just another routine check—a quiet night of ensuring that his secret obligation was intact. But tonight was different. Tonight, a rival gang was looking for leverage, and they'd chosen her—(Name).

Heeseung had known (Name) for years, though she had never known him. He had watched over her from a distance ever since her father, his mentor and protector, had died in a bloody skirmish that still haunted him. A promise made on that dying breath tied Heeseung to her, a promise he had never intended to break, no matter how much distance he tried to put between them.

He wasn’t supposed to get involved, but a recent threat from a rival family had changed everything. The head of the rival gang, Kim Soo-wan, had gotten word of (Name), seen her as an opportunity—a way to hurt Heeseung. He couldn't let that happen.

Tonight, he had no choice but to step out of the shadows.

Heeseung strode up the pathway, his expensive leather shoes silent against the cracked pavement. He could feel the tension simmering beneath his calm facade, his hand itching to reach for the concealed gun at his hip. As he reached the door, he took a deep breath and knocked, his heart thudding with an unusual rhythm.

A moment later, the door creaked open, and (Name) appeared, her eyes wide with confusion. She was beautiful, even in her casual clothes—a soft sweater hanging off one shoulder, her hair loose around her face. There was a warmth in her gaze that Heeseung had never seen in his world, a lightness that seemed to soften the hardened edges of his heart.

"Who are you?" she asked, a hint of curiosity and suspicion in her voice. "It’s late."

Heeseung’s expression remained calm as he slipped off his sunglasses, revealing the intensity of his dark eyes. "I’m someone who owes you a favor," he said simply, his voice low and steady.

(Name) frowned, glancing around nervously. “I don’t understand… How do you know me?”

Heeseung took a step closer, his face a mask of cool detachment. "Your father saved my life once. Now it’s my turn to return the favor."

(Name) stared at him, suspicion in her eyes. "What are you talking about? My father?"

His expression remained unreadable. "There’s no time to explain everything right now. You’re in danger, and you need to come with me." His tone was firm, offering no room for argument.

She hesitated, every instinct telling her to run, but something about the way he spoke—so calm, so controlled—gave her pause. “Why should I believe you?” she challenged, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts.

Heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice was low, almost emotionless. “You don’t have to. But I’m the only one between you and the people who want you dead. If you don’t trust me, you won’t make it through the night.”

Her breath hitched at the bluntness of his words, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She searched his face for any sign of warmth or kindness, but found none—just a steady, calculating stare.

After a tense moment, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Fine. But I’m not going anywhere without answers.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched in what could barely pass as a smile. "You’ll get them," he replied curtly. "But not here." He extended his hand toward her, his eyes cold. “Come with me.”

She hesitated but slowly placed her hand in his, surprised by the firm, almost possessive grip he had. He led her out into the night without another word, his pace brisk, his mind already planning the next move. There was no reassurance, no comforting words—just a silent promise of protection.

The car ride was tense, filled with an uncomfortable silence that weighed heavy in the air. (Name) kept glancing at Heeseung, trying to read him, but his expression was hard, focused, as if he was a thousand miles away.

When they finally arrived at the high-rise, she felt a sense of awe mixed with fear. The entrance was guarded by men who moved aside at Heeseung's mere nod. He walked straight ahead, not bothering to look back, knowing she would follow.

They stepped into the private elevator, and Heeseung pressed the button for the top floor, his face as unreadable as ever. As they ascended, she could feel the weight of his presence beside her, the tension in the air palpable.

When the doors opened to his penthouse, the sheer luxury of the place made her pause, but Heeseung barely spared it a glance. “Sit,” he ordered, his tone commanding. “We need to talk.”

She obeyed, settling onto the leather sofa as he poured a glass of water with practiced efficiency. He handed it to her without a word and took a seat across from her, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Your father was involved with some very dangerous people,” he began, his voice cold, factual. “He worked for my organization. When he died, he made me promise to keep you safe.”

(Name) blinked, trying to process the revelation. “So… my father… was part of the mafia?” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

Heeseung nodded, his gaze never softening. “More than that. He was my mentor. And when he died, he left me with a debt to repay.”

She swallowed, her grip on the glass tightening. “And now I’m in danger because of him?”

His jaw clenched, his tone even colder. “Yes. There’s a rival gang—Kim Soo-wan’s men. They know about you. They think they can use you to get to me.”

(Name) felt fear creeping up her spine. “What do they want?”

“To hurt you. To break me,” he replied flatly. “But I won’t let that happen. As long as you’re with me, you’re untouchable.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Finally, she asked, her voice soft, “Why are you doing this?”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, his expression was almost unreadable. “Because I made a promise,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. “And I never break my promises.”

She swallowed hard, sensing the finality in his words. “I… I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Heeseung leaned back, his gaze never wavering. “You don’t have to. But know this: I am the only chance you have to stay alive.”

She nodded slowly, still feeling fear prickling at her skin, but there was no denying the truth in his words. “Alright… I’ll stay with you. For now.”

Heeseung’s face remained impassive. “Good,” he replied, his tone giving nothing away. “Just remember—I’m not doing this out of kindness. I’m doing this because I have to.”

Heeseung's words hung in the air like a challenge, and (Name) felt a cold shiver slide down her spine. There was a sharpness in his tone, a blunt honesty that left no room for misunderstanding. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Heeseung’s eyes flickered briefly to her before he stood up, turning toward the expansive window that overlooked the city below.

The lights of the city glittered like a thousand secrets waiting to be uncovered, but there was no softness in Heeseung’s gaze as he stared out at them. His profile was sharp against the glass, his expression hard and unyielding.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said without looking at her. “You’re going to be here for a while.”

(Name) took a deep breath, glancing around the penthouse. Everything was immaculate, every piece of furniture expensive and carefully chosen. It was the opposite of her own cramped, cozy apartment. She felt out of place, like an intruder in a world she didn’t belong to. Her mind raced with questions, but she was too afraid to ask them, knowing Heeseung wouldn’t give her the answers she wanted.

Minutes passed in silence. She watched him, the way he held himself—rigid, tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Heeseung finally turned back to her, his expression unreadable.

“I need to make a few calls,” he said flatly. “Stay here. Don’t touch anything.”

His tone was authoritative, almost dismissive, and before she could reply, he walked toward a door at the far end of the room, disappearing inside. The door shut with a quiet click, leaving her alone in the vast space.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She felt trapped, caught in a web she couldn’t see but could definitely feel tightening around her. Her mind whirled with everything she had just learned. Her father, a mentor to a mafia boss? And now she was a pawn in some twisted game of power and revenge.

(Name) stood up, feeling the weight of the situation press down on her shoulders. She moved to the large window, her fingers lightly touching the cold glass as she stared out at the city. The neon lights and towering buildings seemed to stretch on forever, making her feel even smaller than she already did.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours, and when the door finally opened again, Heeseung stepped out, his face as cold and composed as before. He crossed the room in a few long strides and paused in front of her, his gaze sharp.

“We’re moving,” he announced. “Pack whatever you need. We won’t be staying here for long.”

(Name) blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, his tone impatient. “Because it’s not safe. Kim Soo-wan’s men are closing in faster than I anticipated. We need to relocate to somewhere they can’t find us.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. “But… I thought this place was secure.”

Heeseung’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Nothing is ever truly secure in this world. Now do as I say, or you’ll find out just how unsafe it can get.”

She flinched at the harshness of his words, feeling the sting of his cold demeanor. But she nodded, turning away to gather her things. Heeseung’s presence was like a shadow behind her, unyielding and constant.

“Do you always talk to people like that?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely hiding the tremor of anger.

Heeseung’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “People don’t usually ask me questions, (Name). They know better.”

She bristled at his tone, biting back a retort. But she knew pushing him wasn’t wise, not now. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, trying to keep her hands from trembling. Heeseung gave a single nod, turning toward the door.

“Follow me,” he said, already moving ahead. “And stay close. I won’t ask twice.”

The elevator ride down was silent, tense. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she didn’t look directly at him. Once they were in the car, Heeseung gave a brief, clipped order to the driver, and the vehicle pulled away from the building, speeding into the night.

Heeseung leaned back, his gaze now fixed out the window. His fingers drummed lightly on his knee, a rare show of impatience. (Name) watched him, her curiosity battling with her fear.

“Where are we going?” she finally dared to ask.

Heeseung turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. “Somewhere you won’t be found. Somewhere I can control who comes and goes.”

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “And what happens after that?”

Heeseung’s expression hardened. “After that? We figure out what to do next. But right now, keeping you alive is my only priority.”

There was a finality in his voice that made her shiver. She leaned back, looking away from him, her thoughts racing. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, but one thing was clear—Heeseung wasn’t someone who played by anyone else’s rules. And she was now caught in his game.

The car sped through the empty streets, a blur of lights and shadows passing by. (Name) felt every muscle in her body tense, her hands gripping the seat as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Beside her, Heeseung remained a cold, unreadable figure, his gaze flickering out the window, but always returning to her, watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.

The silence in the car was suffocating, filled with unspoken words and unanswered questions. She wanted to ask more, to understand why her life had suddenly spiraled into chaos, but the icy edge in Heeseung's voice and the hardened look in his eyes told her that now was not the time for curiosity.

Eventually, the car turned down a narrow, dimly lit road, away from the busy streets and into a quieter, more secluded part of the city. The buildings here were older, their facades cracked and worn. They pulled up in front of a tall, nondescript building, its windows dark and empty.

Heeseung got out first, motioning for her to follow. “Stay close,” he ordered again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of distant sirens and traffic humming in the background. Heeseung led her toward a side entrance, nodding at another guard who stood by the door. The guard opened it without a word, and they slipped inside.

The interior was stark and dimly lit, the hallway narrow and bare. Heeseung moved with purpose, his steps quiet but deliberate. (Name) hurried to keep up, her eyes darting around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were lined with security cameras, and she could feel them tracking their every move.

They reached an elevator at the end of the hall, and Heeseung pressed a code into a keypad before the doors slid open. Once inside, he punched another code into a hidden panel, and the elevator began its ascent.

Heeseung remained silent, his jaw set, his hands resting loosely at his sides. (Name) watched him, trying to make sense of the man standing next to her. He seemed so composed, so controlled, but there was an underlying tension she couldn’t ignore—a storm just waiting to break loose.

When the elevator finally stopped, the doors opened to a spacious loft, dimly lit but clearly luxurious. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a large wooden desk sat near a wall of windows overlooking the city. Unlike the penthouse, this place felt less like a home and more like a fortress—a place meant to hide, to strategize.

Heeseung stepped out and turned to her. “This is where you’ll stay for now. It’s secure. No one knows about it except me and a few of my most trusted men. You’ll be safe here.”

She nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. “And you? Where will you be?”

Heeseung's expression remained unchanged. “Close by. I have business to handle, but I’ll make sure to check in. My men will guard the building, so don’t try to leave. It’s for your own safety.”

(Name) bit her lip, fighting the urge to argue. “And what if I want to leave? What if I don’t want to stay here?”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. “You don’t have a choice,” he replied, his voice cold and firm. “Until I know the threat is gone, you’re staying put. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

She flinched at the finality in his tone, the way his words seemed to cut through the air like a knife. She knew better than to push further. Instead, she turned away, feeling his gaze burn into her back.

“Fine,” she muttered under her breath, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I expect answers. I deserve to know why my life is suddenly in danger.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a crack in his otherwise unyielding demeanor. “You’ll get them,” he said quietly. “But first, I need to make sure you survive long enough to hear them.”

Before she could respond, he turned and headed toward the door. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it,” he called over his shoulder before stepping out, the door closing behind him with a resounding click.

(Name) stood there, alone in the dimly lit loft, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She felt trapped in a world she didn’t understand, under the protection of a man who seemed as dangerous as the threats he was trying to shield her from. The silence in the room was oppressive, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.

She walked over to the windows, looking out at the city below. Her life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours, and now she was caught in the middle of a conflict she never asked to be part of.

A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts, and she turned around to see a young woman standing there—a maid, by the looks of her, holding a tray with a cup of tea.

“Mr. Lee asked me to bring this to you,” the woman said, her voice polite but distant. “He thought it might help you relax.”

(Name) managed a small nod, taking the tea from her. “Thank you,” she replied softly, watching as the maid left as quickly as she came.

She sat down on the sofa, the cup warm in her hands. She took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside her. She didn’t know what to expect next, or if she could really trust Heeseung. But one thing was clear—her life was no longer her own. And there was no telling when or how this nightmare would end.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Heeseung leaned against the wall, his face a mask of cold determination. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, waiting as it rang. When a voice answered, he spoke in a low, controlled tone.

“Double the security around the building,” he ordered. “I don’t want any mistakes. If anyone even gets close, you know what to do.”

He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His gaze was hard, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. He couldn’t afford any slip-ups—not now. Not with everything on the line.

And as he stood there, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, he realized just how much he was willing to sacrifice to keep her safe—even if it meant becoming the cold, ruthless man everyone thought he already was.

Hours passed slowly in the dimly lit loft. (Name) could barely sleep, her mind swirling with thoughts of her father and the life she never knew he lived. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the shadows cast by the flickering streetlights outside. Every sound in the unfamiliar space felt amplified: the distant hum of the city, the creaking of the old building settling, and the faint rustle of guards outside the door.

She finally drifted off to a restless sleep, only to be woken by the sound of her phone vibrating on the side table. She reached for it groggily, her heart racing, only to see an unknown number flashing on the screen.

She hesitated, then answered, her voice shaky. “Hello?”

A deep, unfamiliar voice responded, low and menacing. “If you want to live, you need to leave now. They’re coming for you, and Heeseung can’t protect you forever.”

(Name) froze, fear gripping her. “Who… who is this?” she stammered, her heart thundering in her chest.

The voice chuckled darkly. “Someone who knows more than you think. You have no idea what you’re caught up in, girl. Leave now, while you still can.”

The call abruptly ended, and (Name) stared at the phone, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Panic clawed at her, and she glanced around the loft, feeling suddenly trapped. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she knew leaving wouldn’t be that simple.

She paced the room, her thoughts racing. Should she trust the anonymous caller or Heeseung, the cold, enigmatic man who held her life in his hands? She glanced at the door, contemplating her next move. Before she could decide, the door swung open, and Heeseung stepped in, his expression unreadable.

His eyes immediately fell on her, taking in her wide eyes and trembling hands. “What happened?” he demanded, his tone colder than before, sensing her fear.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “I… I got a call. Someone said they’re coming for me, that you can’t protect me forever.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, and he crossed the room in two swift strides, grabbing her phone. He checked the call log, his face darkening. “Did they say anything else?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “Just… that I should leave. That I’m in danger.”

Heeseung cursed under his breath, his eyes flashing with anger. “Soo-wan’s men. They’re getting bold,” he muttered. He turned back to her, his expression hardening. “You listen to me, and listen carefully. Don’t ever answer an unknown call again. They’re trying to scare you, to make you doubt me. That’s their game.”

(Name) flinched at his harsh tone but nodded, sensing the urgency in his words. “I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t know.”

Heeseung’s face softened slightly, but only for a moment. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice quieter but still firm. “But you need to understand something: in my world, trust is earned, not given. You have to trust that I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe. Or this won’t work.”

She nodded slowly, feeling a lump in her throat. “I’m trying,” she whispered.

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on her, a flicker of something passing through his eyes—something almost like regret. He took a step back, his demeanor shifting back to the cold, unyielding leader he was. “Get dressed. We’re leaving. It’s not safe here anymore.”

(Name) blinked in surprise. “Leaving? Where are we going?”

“To a place they won’t find you,” he replied curtly, already moving toward the door. “Pack only what you need. We don’t have much time.”

She quickly grabbed a bag, stuffing it with a few essentials, her hands shaking. She glanced back at Heeseung, who stood by the door, his eyes scanning the hallway outside, always alert, always calculating.

As they made their way down to the car, (Name) couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Her nerves were on edge, every shadow seeming to conceal a hidden threat. Heeseung noticed her anxiety and placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her firmly but gently. “Stay close,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Once inside the car, Heeseung took off, driving with a controlled urgency. The city lights blurred past them as they sped down empty streets. (Name) stole glances at him, trying to understand the man behind the cold exterior. There was a time when she might have been terrified to be alone with someone like him, but now, the fear was mixed with something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

Finally, Heeseung spoke, breaking the heavy silence. “I’ll take you to a safe house. It’s further out of the city, more secure. No one will know we’re there. You’ll be safe.”

(Name) nodded, though she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she could live like this—constantly on the run, under his command. “And then what?” she asked softly. “How long do I have to stay hidden?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and he glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “Until they back off or until I’ve eliminated every last one of them,” he answered, his voice like steel.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Eliminate…? You mean—”

“I mean whatever it takes,” he cut her off, his voice firm, leaving no doubt about his intentions. “I’m not letting them get to you. Not now, not ever.”

A cold shiver ran down her spine, but she nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. She could see the ruthless determination in his eyes—the lengths he was willing to go to protect her. And despite the fear, there was a strange sense of safety in knowing he would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

They continued to drive into the night, the city fading into the distance, the road stretching out ahead of them like an uncertain future. (Name) sat back, trying to calm her racing heart, knowing that whatever lay ahead, she would have to trust him. She didn’t have much of a choice anymore.

But one question still burned in her mind—a question she was too afraid to ask. Why? Why was he willing to go to such lengths for her? What was it about her father’s promise that made him so determined to keep her alive?

And as the night stretched on, with only the sound of the road beneath them and the hum of the engine in the air, (Name) realized she might never truly understand the man sitting beside her—the man who was both her captor and her protector, her greatest fear, and her only hope.

The safe house was miles outside the city, nestled in the woods where the dense trees swallowed the moonlight, casting long, eerie shadows across the narrow path leading to it. Heeseung drove in silence, his face a mask of concentration. The tension in the car was thick, almost suffocating.

When they finally arrived, the building came into view—a small, nondescript cabin that looked abandoned from the outside, the perfect hiding place. Heeseung parked the car and turned off the engine, but he made no move to get out. He stayed still, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought.

(Name) watched him carefully, her heart still racing from the events of the night. She knew better than to ask questions right now, but her curiosity and anxiety were at war inside her. Finally, Heeseung seemed to snap back into the moment. He opened his door and stepped out, motioning for her to follow.

"Stay close," he repeated, his voice low but commanding.

She nodded, stepping out into the cool night air, the sound of crickets filling the silence. Heeseung led her to the cabin, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking the door. The interior was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a weak glow over the room. The place was sparse, but it was clean, with a few pieces of furniture and the bare essentials—a table, a couple of chairs, a sofa, and a small kitchen area.

Heeseung locked the door behind them and then turned to her, his expression still guarded. "You should get some rest," he said, his tone flat. "There’s a bedroom down the hall. It’s small, but it’ll do for now."

(Name) nodded, glancing around the unfamiliar space. “What about you?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Heeseung shrugged. “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no one followed us. I don’t sleep much anyway.”

His words were cold, almost indifferent, but she could sense the underlying concern—the way his eyes flickered to the windows, always checking, always on alert. She wondered how long he’d been living like this—constantly on edge, never fully at ease.

She hesitated, biting her lip. “Heeseung… I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I can trust you, but… thank you. For keeping me safe.”

Heeseung’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a brief crack in his cold exterior. “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered. “We’re not out of this mess.”

He turned away from her, moving to check the windows, pulling the curtains tighter. She watched him for a moment longer before retreating down the hallway to the small bedroom. The room was sparse, just a bed and a dresser, but it felt like a sanctuary after the chaos of the day.

She closed the door behind her and sank onto the bed, her thoughts racing. Every part of her wanted to collapse, to give in to the exhaustion clawing at her, but sleep felt impossible. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Heeseung paced back and forth, his mind spinning with calculations and contingency plans. He knew they’d made a bold move by bringing her out here. It would buy them time, but not much. Soo-wan's men were relentless, and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down for a second.

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was a message from Jay, one of his most trusted men.

Message from Jay: "Got word from the streets. Soo-wan’s looking for her, hard. He’s pissed, and he’s not giving up. What’s the next move?"

Heeseung stared at the message, his jaw clenching. He quickly typed back.

Message to Jay: "Stay low. I’ve got her out of the city. Keep an eye on the usual spots, and don’t engage unless necessary."

He put his phone away, his mind already formulating the next steps. He knew he needed to get ahead of Soo-wan, to find a way to end this once and for all. But the truth was, he didn’t have a clear plan yet. And that uncertainty gnawed at him like a festering wound.

Heeseung’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. He turned to see (Name) standing at the doorway, her expression uncertain.

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s too quiet.”

Heeseung’s gaze softened for just a second, then he nodded. “It’s understandable. This isn’t a normal situation for you. But you’ll get used to it.”

She swallowed, stepping further into the room. “Do you ever get used to it?” she asked, her eyes searching his face.

Heeseung hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “No. You don’t. But you learn to survive. You learn to adapt.”

(Name) nodded, absorbing his words. She hesitated before speaking again. “Why do you do it? Why this life? You seem… different from the others.”

Heeseung’s expression hardened again, and he turned away, looking out the window into the darkness. “We don’t choose this life,” he said quietly. “It chooses us. Circumstances, decisions… they lead us down a path, and sometimes, there’s no turning back.”

She could hear the pain in his voice, the weight of whatever history he carried. She wanted to ask more, to understand, but she sensed that his walls were up again, impenetrable. So she nodded, accepting the answer he was willing to give.

Heeseung glanced back at her, his gaze sharp. “You should try to get some rest,” he said firmly. “We have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

She nodded, turning to leave, but paused at the doorway. “Heeseung… be careful.”

Heeseung gave a curt nod, his face unreadable. “Always am,” he replied, his voice low. And with that, she turned and walked back down the hallway, feeling a strange mixture of fear and something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

As she lay back down, her thoughts drifted to Heeseung, to his cold demeanor, and the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability she’d seen beneath it. She wondered what had brought him to this life, what had made him the man he was. And somewhere, deep down, she wondered if she’d ever find a way to break through those walls.

But for now, she was trapped in his world—a world of shadows and secrets, where trust was a rare and precious commodity, and survival was the only goal that mattered. And as the night wore on, with the silence stretching between them, she knew that this was only the beginning of a dangerous game—one where the stakes were life and death, and the rules were written in blood.

he night dragged on, the darkness outside the cabin feeling endless. Heeseung sat by the window, his posture tense, eyes flicking between the shadows beyond and his phone screen. Every little noise—a rustling leaf, a distant animal cry—set him on edge, and he tightened his grip on the gun resting on the table beside him.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but the faint light of dawn began to creep in through the cracks of the curtains, painting the room in muted shades of gray. Heeseung’s body was exhausted, but his mind refused to rest. He couldn’t afford to relax, not when Soo-wan’s men were out there, hunting for any sign of them.

A soft sound behind him made him turn his head. (Name) stood in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweatshirt she had found in the small closet. Her eyes were tired, but there was a quiet determination in her expression.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Heeseung asked, his voice low and gruff.

She shook her head. “Not really. I keep thinking… about my father, about you, about everything.”

Heeseung nodded, his face still unreadable. “It’s a lot to process. But you need to rest. Your body and mind are both running on fumes, and that’s not going to help us.”

She took a few hesitant steps closer. “What about you? Have you slept at all?”

Heeseung smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford right now.”

She bit her lip, sensing the tension radiating from him. She knew he was trying to protect her, but there was a coldness to him, an unyielding strength that kept her at a distance. And yet, she felt an inexplicable urge to get closer, to understand the man behind the icy exterior.

(Name) approached the window and leaned against the wall next to him, her eyes following his to the shadows outside. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she said quietly. “I’m not completely helpless. I can handle myself if I need to.”

Heeseung shot her a glance, his lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered. “You’ve never had to survive in this world, to face what I’ve faced.”

Her brows furrowed, feeling a flare of defiance rise in her chest. “I know I’m not as experienced as you, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless. My father taught me how to take care of myself. I’m not just some sheltered girl.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through her. “And what did your father teach you, exactly? How to hide? How to run? That’s not enough. Not in this life. You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

(Name) met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Then show me,” she challenged. “Teach me what I need to know.”

Heeseung stared at her, caught off guard by her sudden boldness. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence thickening between them. Then, he let out a short, bitter laugh. “You think it’s that simple? That I can just teach you how to survive?”

She held her ground, her expression resolute. “I think if you’re going to drag me into this world, I deserve to know how to survive in it.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, just for a second, before his cold mask slipped back into place. He nodded slowly. “Fine. You want to learn? I’ll teach you. But it won’t be easy. And you’re not going to like it.”

She squared her shoulders, determination blazing in her eyes. “I’m not looking for easy. I’m looking to survive.”

Heeseung watched her for another moment, then nodded again, more firmly this time. “Alright. Let’s start with the basics. Follow me.”

He led her outside to the small clearing behind the cabin. The air was crisp, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the dew-covered grass. Heeseung reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, compact handgun. He checked it over quickly before handing it to her.

(Name) took the gun, her hands steady despite the way her heart pounded in her chest. She had never held a real gun before—only seen them in movies or news reports. But as her fingers closed around the cold metal, a strange sense of calm settled over her.

Heeseung’s gaze was sharp, scrutinizing her every move. “First lesson: always know your weapon,” he began, his voice authoritative. “Feel the weight of it, know its parts, understand how it works. This isn’t just a tool—it’s an extension of yourself in a fight.”

She nodded, taking his words to heart. Her fingers brushed over the barrel, the grip, feeling the contours of the weapon. Heeseung stepped closer, guiding her hands, showing her how to properly hold it.

“Always keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” he instructed, his voice low and steady. “And when you aim, focus on your target. Clear your mind of everything else.”

He stepped back, watching her as she adjusted her stance. “Now, aim at that tree over there,” he instructed, pointing to a thick, sturdy oak a few yards away.

She raised the gun, her arms trembling slightly as she lined up her shot. Her breath was shallow, her mind racing. She could feel Heeseung’s eyes on her, cold and assessing.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “Steady your hands. Focus.”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She steadied her grip, adjusted her aim, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the woods, and the recoil jerked her arms back. The bullet missed the tree entirely, striking the ground a few feet away.

Heeseung didn’t react, his expression unreadable. “Again,” he said simply.

(Name) frowned, her frustration mounting, but she raised the gun again, aiming carefully. She took another deep breath and fired. This time, the shot hit closer, but still missed the target.

Heeseung nodded slightly, his tone still cold. “Better. But not good enough. You need to be precise. Every shot counts.”

(Name) gritted her teeth, determination flaring in her chest. She adjusted her stance again, her focus sharpening. She fired once more, and this time, the bullet hit the tree with a satisfying thunk.

Heeseung’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly masked it. “Good,” he said, his tone still firm. “Keep practicing. You’re going to need to be a lot faster if you want to survive.”

She nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and satisfaction. Heeseung’s cold demeanor hadn’t softened, but there was a hint of approval in his voice that she found herself oddly craving.

As the morning wore on, Heeseung continued to train her, pushing her harder with every exercise. He taught her how to fight, how to disarm an opponent, how to move silently through the woods. Each lesson was grueling, and he offered no encouragement, only cold, blunt criticism. But (Name) didn’t give up. She pushed herself, determined to prove that she could handle whatever this world threw at her.

By midday, she was exhausted, her body aching, but she felt a sense of accomplishment she hadn’t expected. Heeseung finally called for a break, and she sank down onto the grass, breathing heavily.

Heeseung watched her, his expression unreadable. “You did better than I expected,” he admitted, a faint hint of admiration in his voice.

She looked up at him, surprised by the rare compliment. “Thanks,” she managed to say between breaths.

Heeseung nodded, his face still serious. “But don’t get too comfortable. This is just the beginning. The real test is yet to come.”

(Name) nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. She knew she had a long way to go, but she was willing to do whatever it took to survive. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find a way to thaw the icy wall Heeseung had built around himself.

For now, she was ready to face whatever came next, even if it meant diving headfirst into a world of danger, betrayal, and secrets.

Heeseung kept up his relentless pace, guiding (Name) through a series of increasingly complex training exercises. They worked through the afternoon and well into the evening, with only brief breaks for water and food. By the time night fell, (Name) was physically and mentally drained, but she had improved markedly.

The penthouse’s luxurious setting felt like a distant memory as she collapsed onto the sofa, her muscles aching. Heeseung, as always, remained composed, his gaze sharp as he observed her. He poured a glass of water for her and handed it over without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice hoarse. She took a long sip, savoring the coolness.

Heeseung finally allowed himself a moment of relaxation, though his expression remained impassive. “You did well today,” he said, his tone begrudgingly approving. “But don’t expect any more praise. We’re not here to coddle you.”

(Name) managed a tired smile, looking up at him. “I didn’t expect you to. But I appreciate it anyway.”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered with something—perhaps surprise, or even a trace of warmth—but he quickly masked it with his usual cold demeanor. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

She nodded, rising from the sofa with a groan. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but she felt a strange sense of accomplishment. The world outside was still dangerous, and Heeseung’s cold, unyielding demeanor was a constant reminder of that. Yet, despite everything, she felt an unexpected bond forming between them—one forged in the fires of adversity.

As she made her way to the bedroom, she glanced back at Heeseung, who had returned to his position by the window, his silhouette stark against the city lights. There was something about him—an unspoken depth that intrigued her, even if he kept it carefully hidden behind layers of coldness and detachment.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Heeseung continued to train (Name), pushing her to her limits and beyond. Each session was grueling, but (Name) refused to back down. She was determined to prove herself, not just to Heeseung but to herself. Every bruise, every ache, was a step toward becoming stronger.

Throughout it all, Heeseung remained distant, his interactions with her limited to instructions and corrections. He rarely spoke of personal matters, and his emotions remained well-guarded. But there were fleeting moments when his gaze softened ever so slightly, when he showed a hint of concern beneath his icy exterior.

One evening, after a particularly intense training session, Heeseung found (Name) sitting on the balcony, staring out at the city skyline. The city lights below flickered like a sea of stars, casting a soft glow over the scene.

Heeseung approached silently, taking a seat beside her. For once, he didn’t have a scathing comment or a harsh criticism. He simply sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

(Name) looked at him, her eyes tired but curious. “You ever think about what you’ll do once all this is over?” she asked quietly.

Heeseung’s gaze remained fixed on the city. “I don’t have time for that,” he replied. “There’s always another threat, another problem to deal with.”

She nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “I guess it’s hard to think about the future when you’re constantly dealing with the present.”

Heeseung glanced at her, a flicker of something—vulnerability, perhaps—in his eyes. “You’re getting better at this. Faster than I expected.”

She managed a small smile, though her fatigue was evident. “Thanks to you. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched slightly, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoic expression. “Just doing what needs to be done.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, a rare break from the constant tension. For a moment, it felt as though they were simply two people sharing a quiet moment, not bound by danger or duty.

But the reprieve was short-lived. The following day brought new challenges, and with them, renewed threats. Heeseung’s demeanor grew colder, more intense, as he focused on the impending danger. The rival gang’s attempts to track them down had intensified, and Heeseung’s focus was unwavering.

Heeseung’s attention to detail was meticulous, every action calculated and precise. He prepared for every possible scenario, ensuring that (Name) was always protected. His coldness was a shield, one that he used to keep his emotions at bay, even as he fought to keep her safe.

(Name) continued to train diligently, her skills improving with each passing day. The bond between her and Heeseung grew stronger, forged through shared trials and relentless training. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection that transcended words.

One evening, as they prepared for another round of training, Heeseung pulled her aside. “We’re moving out of the penthouse,” he said abruptly. “The rival gang has narrowed down our location. We need to stay ahead of them.”

(Name)’s heart sank at the news, but she nodded, ready to follow his lead. “Where are we going?”

Heeseung’s expression was unreadable. “A secure location. We’ll be safer there.”

As they packed up their belongings, (Name) couldn’t shake the feeling of impending danger. The city outside was a constant reminder of the threat they faced, but she was determined to stay strong.

Heeseung’s focus was unwavering, his every action calculated and precise. He was a master at navigating the dangerous world he inhabited, and (Name) was learning to adapt to it, driven by her own resolve and determination.

The journey to their new location was tense, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. Heeseung remained vigilant, his gaze scanning the surroundings as they traveled. (Name) sat beside him, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.

When they arrived at the secure location, a secluded estate surrounded by high walls and guarded by security personnel, (Name) felt a mix of relief and apprehension. The estate was luxurious, yet its isolation was a stark reminder of the danger they faced.

As they settled in, Heeseung’s demeanor remained as cold and calculated as ever. But (Name) could sense a subtle shift—an underlying protectiveness that he struggled to hide.

Despite the danger, there were moments of quiet between them, moments where Heeseung’s cold facade cracked just slightly. They would sit together in the evenings, sharing small, unguarded moments. Heeseung would speak more openly, revealing glimpses of the man behind the mafia boss. And (Name) found herself increasingly drawn to him, despite his guarded nature.

The days turned into weeks, and the danger continued to loom. But with Heeseung by her side, (Name) felt a strange sense of security. His presence, though cold and distant, was a constant reminder of his commitment to keeping her safe.

One evening, as they sat on the estate’s balcony overlooking the city, (Name) turned to Heeseung, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. “You’ve done so much for me. Why?”

Heeseung’s gaze was fixed on the city lights, his expression impassive. “Because I made a promise,” he said softly. “To your father. And because… I care about you.”

His admission hung in the air, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mafia boss. (Name) felt her heart swell at his words, and for a moment, the coldness that had defined their interactions seemed to melt away.

She reached out, placing a hand on his. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.”

Heeseung’s eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, there was a warmth in his gaze. He squeezed her hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they had formed.

As the sun set over the city, casting a warm glow over the estate, (Name) felt a sense of peace. Despite the danger and uncertainty, she had found a connection with Heeseung that transcended their circumstances.

In the heart of the storm, amidst the shadows and secrets, they had found something real. And as they faced the challenges ahead, they would do so together, united by their shared trials and their unspoken bond.

As the evening settled into a tranquil hush, Heeseung led (Name) through the sprawling gardens of the estate. The soft glow of the moonlight cast a gentle sheen over the meticulously maintained grounds, and the faint scent of blooming flowers lingered in the air. The peaceful ambiance was a stark contrast to the tension they had lived through, creating a serene backdrop for the conversation that was about to unfold.

They walked side by side, their footsteps barely making a sound on the gravel path. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown between them over the past few weeks. Heeseung’s usual cold demeanor had thawed, revealing a side of him that was softer and more vulnerable.

As they reached a secluded spot beneath a large, ancient oak tree, Heeseung stopped and turned to face (Name). The tree’s sprawling branches provided a natural canopy, and the moonlight filtering through the leaves created a dappled effect on the ground.

Heeseung’s expression was serious, his eyes reflecting the moon’s pale light. He took a deep breath, his gaze locking with hers. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion.

(Name) met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, her heart racing in her chest. “What is it, Heeseung?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking until they were just a breath apart. His hand reached out, gently cupping her cheek. The touch was tender, his fingers warm against her skin. “These past few weeks have been… different. I’ve spent so much of my life hiding behind walls, pushing people away. But with you, it’s been different.”

Heeseung’s thumb brushed lightly over her cheekbone, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “You’ve seen a side of me that no one else has. You’ve seen the parts of me I’ve tried so hard to keep hidden. And despite everything, you’ve stood by me. You’ve shown me what it means to care about someone.”

He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment. “I never thought I’d let anyone in, especially not someone as incredible as you. But the truth is, I’ve come to care about you in ways I didn’t expect. You’ve become so important to me, and I can’t ignore what I feel anymore.”

(Name)’s breath caught in her throat as she listened to his heartfelt confession. Her eyes glistened with emotion, the depth of his words touching her deeply. She reached up, placing her hand over his, her own fingers trembling slightly.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “I know our circumstances aren’t ideal. We’ve been through so much, and there’s still so much uncertainty. But I want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect you and to make things right.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. The closeness of their bodies, the shared warmth, created an intimate moment that felt like it was suspended in time. “I’m not just protecting you because of a promise. I’m doing it because… I’ve fallen for you. I’ve fallen for you in ways I never thought possible.”

(Name) closed her eyes, savoring the closeness and the sincerity of his words. Her heart was pounding, a mixture of joy and relief flooding through her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the sincerity in Heeseung’s gaze.

“I care about you too, Heeseung,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “I’ve come to see you for who you really are, and despite everything, I’m grateful for what we’ve shared. I want to be with you, not just because of the danger, but because I care about you deeply.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened even further, a rare and genuine smile gracing his lips. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender, passionate kiss. The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with the depth of the emotions they had both been holding back. It was a promise of more to come, a declaration of their newfound connection.

As they pulled away, Heeseung’s hand remained on her cheek, his thumb gently brushing against her skin. “Then let’s face whatever comes next together,” he said softly. “We’ve been through so much, and I want us to be more than just survivors of our circumstances. I want us to be something real, something lasting.”

(Name) nodded, her heart full and her spirit uplifted. “I want that too,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “Let’s move forward together, and face whatever challenges come our way. We’ll do it side by side.”

The night continued to envelop them, the city lights shimmering below, as they stood together under the ancient oak tree. Their shared moment was one of profound connection, a testament to the strength of their bond and the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

With the danger receding and their relationship solidified, Heeseung and (Name) embraced the future with renewed hope and purpose. They knew their journey had been arduous, but it had led them to a place of genuine connection and enduring love.

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