#bearseokie.monstax

[bearseokie]

BLOOD ORANGE

an elusive man who had your heart from the get go, the bloodied bruises of his occupation lend you a new lifestyle—but at a cost. hyungwon had always run the money for the bar, always had control over the fights, but when you slip into his life and bring him love to learn from, he forgets to never mix work with pleasure.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | fight club | 5k ] GENRES — bookie! au, forbidden love! au, mafia! au, thriller, romance, angst, smut WARNINGS — mature content, organized crime, violence, robbing, blood/cuts/major injuries, mentions of stitches, use of petnames (baby & doll) SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, teasing, quickies, unprotected intercourse RELEASED ON — JUNE 27TH, 2022

spotify playlist // blood orange

LAST | FATAL LOVE SERIES MLIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

one. | two lens shades.

Just because you leave a party unscathed doesn't mean you beat the night. The darkness at the end of the day doesn't turn you loose from the ensued chaos until dawn breaks and the sun rises. And you were no exception.

Dead roads in every direction, veins in your limbs completely exempt of any traces of alcohol—intoxication would have only amplified your lost state of mind. You had slipped from the party to be with an old friend, the reacquaintance giving you a warm feeling and bringing you back to life. Things move on, life goes on, and when you finally return to the beat of the stereo booming through the large, old home, your friends had managed to forget your existence. They had left a mere ten minutes of you returning to them, and had you quieted the conversation with that mundane person any sooner, you wouldn't be wandering down the abandoned streets attempting to find any living soul.

Dark pavement with oil and rain puddled every few steps, your shoes were soaked from the previous storm. They squeaked with every movement, nearly driving you insane—almost covering the sound of the booms at a bar a few yards from your shivering form.

A large tavern out in the middle of nowhere. Despite every red flag, every get out sign, even the aberrant aura of the bar itself, you still closed in on it.

The thick scent of the same substance you escaped from filled your nostrils, the smell seeping through the cracks of the front door. Your fingers wrapped around the handle, pushing into it, but nothing availed. You thrashed, put your full body weight on it, kicked it once—but you still stood out in the lasting rain dripping from the roof, down the gutters, and off the cover at the front of the building onto your head.

Soaked, freezing, shivering and soon to be sick, you asked yourself: "Why have an open bar with the doors locked?" People were clearly inside making more noise than the party you left.

One person's mistake is another person's gain. A click of the window at the bar hours prior gave you the source you bound for. A gentleman looking to have a smoke, not wanting to go outside in the ice cold rain. You could smoke inside if need be, therefore he simply opened a window. But the man would never be aware that his small motion in the world caused a ripple in your own.

A neon ‘open’ sign buzzing over your head, the slightest push brought the window to rise in the sill. Foot first, ankle, entire leg—halfway in you knew this was a bad idea.

Screams, yells, even call-outs echoed through the building, but no one was above. Empty chairs, no music playing upstairs, glasses stacked on the bar; all was as if time had just stopped. You stood alone in the place meant for people all alike and different at the same time.

Dim lights from the kitchen shared your surroundings. Your guts twisted, turned, told you to make a run for it while you could. Then you saw it—right there, out in the open. Something no one ever dared to touch.

There are perfectly good reasons why abandoned places conceal such historical, sometimes important objects. Stories pass through small towns and large cities like a sickness, all to warn those around to never go near a specific place. Don't touch whatever's inside. Don't take anything you see, no matter how valuable. Items and objects like these are possessed—by spirits or people. And they always return to them, always.

The cash register left unattended clicked open. Luck wasn't ever on your side, the universe seeming to have it out for you. Be it karma, a simple mistake in the past once blurred over. Things didn't work out for you as well as most.

Your fingers pricked at the container, drawer rolling out for you like the golden ticket. Tens of hundreds of dollars at your mercy. Some people don't live to see this kind of cash, only dream of it, think about it every little while—but it was real, and right in front of you.

What's life without hardships? Your friends that abandoned you at the party were from college, so out of their mind from life they didn't know left from right. You slept on a mattress on one of their floors, never complained or prodded into their lives. But in these moments, this moment, you knew it was your time to have your own out of body experience.

Your fingertips brushed the money like it was the silkiest hair you could ever feel. It was real, actual cash pulled from the unguarded register and into your palm. Bill after bill, almost a thousand laid in your hold.

But the dominion right around the corner, out of your sight—he witnessed it all. He watched the greed in your eyes, the flip of contemplation on your tongue.

You couldn't even feel the breeze of the man at your back before your collar was lifted. Snatched from you, the money removed from your grasp, you were caught red handed.

"I—I, please!" Was bargaining right to do here? Or was your life on the line?

Mint-scented breath breaking past your skull and into your nose quickly overlapped the hard scents of the alcohol. His fingers were colder than your own, soft padding of what felt like bandages running across your skin. He yanked you upwards, pressing your front into the counter until you felt a bruise forming at your hip bones. Nothing of the sorts that softness could express, you were in deep shit here.

"I-I'm not a crook." He didn't say anything—didn't have to. You'd spill it all to him if you didn't bite your tongue at the realization of how dull and weak you looked.

Pressed against the counter by the faceless man, his deep voice finally encountered your senses in a growl. "Not a crook, but you're robbing me? How does that make sense?"

Admittedly, this did look terrible.

A click over your head, he had hit a switch. A single light over the bar turned on and illuminated your silhouettes to make shapes. His bone-chilling features now in your peripheral, you hissed at the force he continued to use.

Glasses shading his face, the red and orange lenses kept you from seeing the colors of his irises properly. It was like he wore a mask, black hair tucked behind one ear and smooth, untethered leather jacket the same color as if both lenses bled together making you peer up and down at him.

Your shirt was ripped open across your chest, a mishap at the party paired with the gruesome cut across your cheek. It was illegal for a college dorm to have weapons on the premises, that's why college parties move to households. Somewhere to free their mind and not receive warnings from the authorities, you hated those around you. A knife had gashed you on your way out, your confused mind more consumed with being left behind than the blood pouring down your cheek.

But a single glimpse at the cut made the man release his tight grip. He stepped back an inch, gave you space, and your deep breath in finally gave you the courage to speak.

"The open sign is on. No one was up here, so I took a jump for it. I'm sorry, please don't call the cops. I've never done anything l-like this. I'm just desperate." Broken sobs through every sentence, his cocked brow and tight jawline convinced you he was thinking.

The click of his tongue was like a trigger going off on a bomb. Music below turning lower, the screams lessening, and calls dimming out. He seemed visibly worried the moment everything began to turn quiet.

His fingertips drove into your arm, painful hold pulling you from the counter and into his side. Cold eyes behind the shaded glasses glistening like diamonds in the light made you hiccup in worry.

"I suggest you leave. Now." Stern and upholding, he pushed you in the direction of the back door adjacent to the same window you crawled through. "This isn't your place."

"That's just it!" Blabbed tongue caught by the man again, his stern glare made you bite down on the wet muscle. "I don't have any real place to be, or even go."

"Then I sure hope you find one." His fist balled into your ripped shirt at your back, form guiding you towards the back door.

"B-But, please!" Now you were just begging. Pathetically begging at a stranger that clearly read more signs of danger than the building, itself. "Just a little bit of the cash, and you'll never see me again."

"That's not how this works." He growled, moving faster. Chaos broke downstairs as he moved you, the sound of fists hitting together and skulls bashing filling up the silence of the upstairs room. "You've gotta go."

"Anything! I'll do anything for any of it. Just tell me—"

"Fucking stop!" The rise in his voice brings chills across your skin, a shock through your spine, and a clench of your muscles all at once. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Who the hell do you think you are? You were trying to rob me, and now you're trying to enforce a deal?"

"Is it so bad here? Really that bad?"

"Why do you ask that?" His grip got so tight you felt his nails about to break the skin. You could feel the burn of the tissues, skin changing colors from his fingers leaving marks where they pressed into your limbs.

"I got in so easily. You clearly don't know what security means. What are you running here? Drugs, some type of mafia?" Your lips moved faster than your mind, almost too fast to stop before he did anything drastic.

"You're way out of line here, doll."

"You need me." You finally rounded back at him, perfectly hitting him where it hurts, figuratively speaking.

"You know how to hit an off button?"

"Sure." Your response was quick.

"Know how to count cash?"

You laughed. "What did it look like I was doing in there?"

"Do you know how to protect yourself?"

"Why don't you try to fight me and we can find out?"

Chae Hyungwon: runner of the tavern, night owl, infectious in a cold way, and the bookie of the biggest and growing fight club the world had ever seen.

One person's mistake is another person's gain. You just didn't know which part of the equation you were.

two. | sit pretty.

Legs bent into your own form, the chair accompanied your body like a back hug. Same dark room as you snuck into, crystal glass reflecting the bright light above the bar, and a similarly eerie feeling of being on an entire floor of a building alone. Every creak of the walls and floors shot jolts up your spine, the lonesome bar still echoing with a riot within the cellar.

You had no instructions, and little insurance to your life in a place like this. A simple tell to stay put, distract yourself from whatever you hear; He hardly spoke a word before dashing off and ducking under the steel beam at the bottom of the staircase. His blood red leather jacket could be seen from a mile away, the scent of his cologne light but filling to the air, and the graveled tone of a man who hadn’t slept a good night’s sleep in who knows how long. The man was a ghost.

But it wasn’t the interactions he held with you that caused curiosity, but with others. His dealing, whatever job he was accustomed to here at the tavern, was usually done downstairs and finished above. It was obvious that you were meant to be masked from this, and that he had to switch things up to keep you out of the difficult part.

The stairs creaked with heavy footsteps, man after man rising from the cellar with cash in their hands and blood pouring down their bodies. The aroma was heavy, the ding of the bell above the front door sounding over and over as women and friends to the men rushed in to see their winnings and assist their wounds.

He rose up the stairs last, alone, and a briefcase full of something that was heavy enough to cause his arm to twitch beneath the jacket. His eyes covered by the deep lenses, hair lightly sweated to his forehead, and a smooth walk to the office beside your chair. You rose from your seat, took a single glance into the small space, and had your sight met with the shielded glasses once more. His voice groggy, mind clearly somewhere else, He issued the second instruction of the night.

“Sit down.”

And the night only repeated itself. Four days of the week, your ass stuck in the same chair staring at nothing but darkness as you listened to the hammering punches and blows from the men downstairs. Each night passed by in a blink, the same stand-offish glares from the man sending sparks of electricity up your frame each time. You sat, you listened, and you witnessed all that you could see.

“What’s the point of me being here if all I do is sit and look pretty?” Your voice finally reclaimed the air, the men filing out of the tavern on the fifth night just as he rose up the stairs.

You had seen it. Two men were wheeled out on stolen stretchers, enough gashes in their bodies to bring them to death without medical care in their near future. They rolled right past you, the elusive man at their tail to assure they got out to the equally stolen ambulance outside. His face was chiseled from stress, a single bead of blood from his temple running down the side of his face, and all he had to do was look over at you. But he didn’t, the man leading his path with a blank stare and even duller voice. “Don’t even think about asking.”

Each time you heard his voice, you knew things were worse off here than they appeared. No one speaks about their time downstairs when they come up, even those who come inside don’t ask questions. And most surely, he never speaks on the acts of the business or his work.

“Do you ever think to make yourself useful?” The man reiterated your question about sitting in the same chair in a way that made you seem like a nuisance, the toes of his shoes halting right at the edge of yours to bend down and stare at you eye to eye.

“You could give me a to-do list.” Your tongue hissed at the small glimpse of his plump lips tweaking while holding back a smirk.

“But that would be too easy for you.”

“Then what’s the deal, Hyungwon?”

He had never once told you his name. You had to find it for yourself, the quick glance into his office while the door was open showing you the single name plaque on his desk. It was read so fast, your mind had to recreate it just for memory. Even then, it stuck with you well.

“The deal is, you’re here because I let you stay. Not because I want you here.”

“Then what would you like me to do?”

It was the second time you had actually made his eyes out through the thick lenses, like he wanted you to see into his own view for once. The reflection in the glasses showed you your own face—scorned and confusion riddled, but you still saw his black irises. Dark, seen more than he wished to, Hyungwon stood up straight in tandem with the last thing he said to you that night.

“Just sit there and look pretty.”

The click of the office door turned into nails on a chalkboard the more you heard it. It was the defiance of the man that steered you from your instructions, caused your blood to boil, and made your sight almost run as red as his jacket. Your body raced over to the counter, hands flat on the countertop until you felt the grossness of the sticky substances staining the table before you realized just what you could do.

Was it annoyance that led to you pulling two bottles of cleaning spray and rags out? Running them over every surface you could find until they were spotless and you were out of breath? Or was it the specific glance through Hyungwon’s glasses— what made you finally be able to see him as he is—that put you on this pedestal?

You did see him for him. A sketchy man whisking away his nights in an old tavern doing illegal work beneath the building that left him with small drops of blood and a heavy case in his hand each and every night. You saw him, but you didn’t know of him. Two different things with vicarious meanings.

Dawn peaked through the large windows covered with broken blinds when the door finally peeled open, glistening floors cleaned spotless and bottles refilled and organized around the bar. It was the disturbing smirk that finally placed on Hyunwon’s lips that made you twist around to peer at his face with anger.

“I never said you were here to clean.”

“Then what am I here to do, Hyungwon?” You asked again.

“Why don’t you look in our office and see?”

three. | sweet release.

His scent had forever linked itself to your nose, the sounds of his footsteps echoing in the building and coming in closer always making the hair on your frame rise. There was nothing about Hyungwon that didn't catch your attention, and much less—the scent of when his blood added into his natural aroma and cologne.

Money had been racking up, two and three suitcases full moving out each night making his brow break in a sweat and his eyes glisten like glass from exhaustion. With every night, the rowdy sounds of fists swinging and blows hitting coming from below, the man seemed to shiver with worry.

His tongue held so many words that would go unspoken, twisting and tapping at your own. Heated kisses and bodies pressed together was the true link to your minds, a place of pure solace. The more his fingers would press into your skin harder, thrusts grew deeper, and guttural groans would claim your name as his source of pleasure from the chaos—you knew the horrors of your unknown future were coming closer.

Watching his neck lose the support it needed to hold up his head, the tension in his shoulders fading with his release, and his toughed form grow weak even for a second—it was like seeing a shooting star on a cloudy night as it rained.

Every chance you had at breaking down his solid wall would be lost to his barricading, almost paranoid response. Simple questions like where a scar came from were enough to silence any sounds he released, make his fast-paced fucks even quicker, and caused him to leave you to catch your breath all alone.

When the office door opened—his word of choice being "our" in the concept of who was working in the small room—you figured you were getting closer.

Hyungwon was only letting you in step by step. To sit on the couch and count the earnings from that night by hand while he recounted the previous amount through a machine. His numbers were always right, and only becoming more and more accurate with your help. What you could never wrap your head around was what all the money was going towards.

The bar stayed the same for the three weeks you had been assisting the bookie, Hyungwon. Nothing new added, no repairs made, and no exchange of payment for your work.

The fourth week seemed all the same to closed eyes. More men coming in and out, Hyungwon's lingering stares and head shaking at you to stay away from certain ones who attempted conversation with you. Slowly, it became different.

Until the difference was dangerous. Howls and bones cracking the most common sounds rising from the basement every other night, an escalated chant growing as you drew closer to the open double doors.

Uncommon, the use of names—everyone knew who was currently in the ring. Hyungwon's name was shouted in tandem, punches and blows so loud even your ears could catch them.

He was winning.

His muscles stronger from holding you closer these last few weeks helped give him leverage to have a more repetitive cadence than how he had fought before. It was clear by the chants of his name, the excitement in every man within the enclosed space—Hyungwon was close to beating an old opponent.

But as all things can go forwards, they can go backwards.

Context clues, a sudden break in the chants—"oh" and "fuck" sounding from both Hyungwon and the men surrounding him. He had kept his head so high during the duration of the battle until the last minute when it was colliding with the fist of the strongest man in the ring, and again with the concrete of the floor.

Your step by step tactic has become a rushing force, your legs carrying you too far into the situation—the deadly reality of working alongside a man who is trying to keep from getting killed, himself, on the surface.

A fight club, men all around staring at your form like an alienated creature coming into a new world.

His body was shirtless. Bare feet calloused from holding himself upright on the hard flooring with knicks and cracks along it. Knuckles busted open from the raw punches he had taken. And his head pouring more blood than you had ever seen, his unconscious self unaware of your sudden presence.

The circle around the fallen bookie had become silent compared to their ravaging calls minutes before. "You're not supposed to be down here." One deep voice claimed, your hand pressing at his chest to back him away and allow you to close in on Hyungwon only making him silent again.

"What have you done?!" Your eyes were on the opponent, his taken-back appearance making him back away from the bleeding man. "Get a medic!"

No one moved, Hyungwon's body only barely twitched on the floor. It was like time had stopped, like you were meant to be rewinding back to the night you slipped through the window—to make the choice to leave before everything even began.

But even if you could, you wouldn't leave him like this.

"Do you hear me?" Your voice was full of rage, cheeks becoming heated. It was as if you had lit a fire under their feet, your words putting them at your mercy. "I know you have someone to help when someone is hurt." Their eyes watched you like characters in a film taking notice of the audience. "Get someone!"

The men shifted on their feet, some rushing up the stairs to retrieve the men who sat outside in the ambulance for medical aid. It only took two minutes for them to be in your vision, accessing Hyungwon and clearing that he was okay to be moved.

You watched him be lifted onto the stretcher—saw every grown man around you follow Hyungwon with their eyes. A guttural feeling of true horror could be felt in the pit of your stomach.

"T-Take him into the office up the stairs." You called from behind them as they carried him up, only one medic responding.

As soon as time slowed down, it sped up. His placement down on the couch in the office, the stitches going into the skin of his head, bandages wrapped around all his wounds—and his form in a deep slumber before you.

His chest rose and fell as everyone left the room, leaving you to care for him on your own. You had become so used to his eyes watching you from a distance, assuring you were alright—nothing had prepared you for the roles being switched.

"Here because you let me stay." You repeated his own words to him, centering your reality all at once. "Not because you want me here."

Your voice was small, traveling into his ears just as your rising frame missed his twitching fingers—the only response he had given in an hour.

"What if I want to be—" You felt the heat of the tears rushing down your face, eyes peering into the tavern's bar as if the place you had come to know was only your imagination. "—with you?"

For once the tavern seemed to stand still. Nothing but Hyungwon's mesh shirt in your hands, his jacket over your shoulders, and his scent surrounding you. His blood splattered just a floor beneath your feet made a sick feeling rumble in your stomach.

"There has to be something more than this, Hyungwon." You whispered, but his ears still caught the sweet sound of your voice. "There has to be something better for us."

His voice was so deep, vocal chords just as weak as his limbs. Hair finally drying from the cold sweat that had layered on his skin, body resting firmly on the same couch you both managed to sleep on together every night, and the smile creeping onto his face like he had lost every worry in his mind just at the call of your words.

"I knew that pretty little head of yours would figure it all out eventually." He chimed, mind still clouded from the morphine cushioning him through the pain. "So—what's the plan, baby?"

four. | old flames.

It had come to you just days into working alongside Hyungwon. How careful he was with the money, how he drove it somewhere to someone, and how that someone never came within arms reach of the bar.

"Accidents happen." You claimed.

The coffee cup cradled in his large, veiny hands still steaming—he could only chuckle "Accidents?"

All it would take is for the gas line on the old refrigerator to be loosened, for a blue flame from the stove to be lit—and a massive fire to burn down the space you and Hyungwon had come to call home.

"Ashes to ashes." Hyungwon almost sang, humming into his coffee as a single strand of hair fell over his forehead. "Dust to dust."

"And a way out for us."

"It would be a damn shame for the business to lose so much money." He claimed, shaking his head and squinting his eyes.

It was clear that Hyungwon had never thought to act on breaking his speechless contract with the runner of the fight club. He had lived in and owned this bar for years, becoming an asset to the business. It was perfect.

"They would never know it was on purpose." He spoke, eyes widening and staring at your shaking legs standing across from him. "Not on purpose—done by me, at least. It would seem like an act of tyranny done by someone in the club or someone from the outside who's taken notice of us."

As the cut on your cheek had begun to turn into nothing more than a scar, Hyungwon had taken it upon himself to gain more wounds. His tired state now focused on the paradise of leaving the tavern and never returning—you could see something twisting in him.

"It's foolproof."

Every light in the bar had become blinding the more you took notice of them in such a dim space. You and Hyungwon had fucked on every clean surface—the place was losing its spark. Your words had been true, there was more for you somewhere else. And the tavern, being a bookie, had easily become a distant memory even while still being placed in the building.

One thing the business had never taken into account, the use of security cameras. Had they, you would have been caught long before Hyungwon found you stealing from the cash register.

But they were too durable, too updated. Glass breaking alarms would be set off too often, smoke alarms would never work in a bar that allows smoking, and cameras would be evidence of violence and suspicious activity that was pulled in by the true use of the tavern.

Foolproof.

Hyungwon hadn't once commented on his own leather jacket now on your body, only pulling it off you to fuck you on the couch one last time. His feverish hot skin against yours, the squeak of the wooden frame shaking hard enough that his jacket slid to the floor, and the rush of his cum deep into you until you could feel him shaking.

It wasn't his normal shake of release, every limb of his body coming to terms with what was occuring. What he was blackmailing, who he was going against, and the run of his life coming his way.

Then again, he always fucked to think or forget.

Every metal handle cold against your hot palm made you shiver, the amount of money packed away inside the cases bringing a smirk to your lips. His classic car backed up to the back door of the tavern looked so normal, spaced out to appear as if he was hiding the vehicle.

With almost ten miles surrounding the tavern, unoccupied and shielding your actions—you could feel the thump of your heartbeat as every minute passed and you and Hyungwon got closer to getting in the car and driving away.

The gas line had been loosened in the kitchen by a tool in a box under the sink, Hyungwon's body almost dancing its way out of the small space. Taking your hand, the smile growing on his face—the two of you stepped out into the world that was waiting for you and away from the bar just as the blue flame grew large enough to reach the gas leaving the fridge, igniting a flame that was soon engulfing the entire main floor by the time the engine was roaring.

His glasses’ lenses reflected what he could see in the rear-view mirror, the tavern now completely lit and burning the same color of his lenses if they bled together, along with the jacket you wore.

His fingertips met the frame of the glasses, pulling them from his face and clicking them closed. With a push of the accessory into the open compartment of the dash, he could only release a huff at the sight of his old life being placed behind him right before his eyes.

The eyes you begged to see the first night you met him, and the eyes you'd stare into with love until the day you died.

But for now, you'd just let the world believe you died by a blood orange flame you called Hyungwon.

if you enjoyed this: vote for the next fatal love story!

TAGLIST — @blizzardfluffykpop​ @crownofluminarys​ @honey-zip​

© bearseokie 2022. do not modify, repost, or translate in any way. please.

[bearseokie]

A PRICE WORTH PAYING.

never a freelance worker, hyunwoo has always had his tie a little too tight around his neck. when bullets fly at your innocent head, he realizes those that are after you aren’t out for a bounty, but for blood. palm around his gun at his waist and you in his peripheral, it’s not a day’s work well done until you’re safe.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | hitman: agent 47 | 6.3k ] GENRES — hitman! au, romance, thriller, smut, angst WARNINGS — mature content, violence, organized crime, victimization, uncomfortable situations, intense situations, kidnapping, blood, severe injuries (gunshot wounds & cuts), language, self defense, height difference, death. SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, unmentioned but protected intercourse, love-making. RELEASED ON — JULY 30TH, 2022.

spotify playlist // a price worth paying

LAST | FATAL LOVE SERIES MLIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

prologue.

His features, stern at first glance but gentle with a stare. You had caught his sight as you turned onto the walkway, closing in on the hotel door. Hat placed perfectly, outfit fresh from the cleaners inside the hotel, and his guidance of a nod as his large hand opened the door for you.

He seemed to fit in so well. His coat fit perfectly, shoes so shiny you could see the reflection of the lights above as you walked by. It was almost believable that his current occupation was his only one.

Losing his eye contact, it was the first mistake.

You felt the air shift behind you as you moved inside, the doors closing at your entrance. With no one else inside the main lobby except the man at the front desk, you could have been convinced the two-in-the-morning arrival was considered the safest route.

Things had gone so awry, all you wanted was one night of good rest. Being placed at a motel seemed fit for the situation—but no one would call for help over destructive noises occurring until they witnessed a scene themselves. A safehouse—secluded and mundane, the peace could only distract you for so long.

The man at the front desk peered up momentarily, finishing the last few words on the keyboard of his computer. Unlike the silence of the door-man, his gravelly voice found you odd.

"Isn't it late for someone like you to be out alone?" Ignoring all sense of what could have happened to get you to this point in time, the man went on. "And, I mean—shouldn't you have a partner?"

The prying of a stranger, it sends chills up anyone's spine.

"Is there a problem?" You wanted the voice to be his. To be just as the same as you had heard it be once. The way he had swooped in, stuffed any sort of uncomfort from your situation—but he didn't disturb the humanity in act.

It had been the man at the front desk's voice, your diverting eyes merely upsetting him as the redness in his face brightened and the vein in his forehead became visible.

"I-I am sorry." Your voice was always so small when someone bit at you like this. "May I have a room for the night?"

"Just one night?"

The first time you had noticed his placement was so vivid. How he always matched the settings, didn't stand out—he couldn't stand out. Always watching you from afar.

All you had seen of him was the right side of his face, the man sitting in the driver's side of your car being the complete opposite of what you know him as now. He hardly spoke, only repeating your directions and asking if the air being on was alright.

All it took was a second. A blink of an eye for his work to turn upside down, and for him to find himself saving the one he was meant to be taking out.

The bullets had shot into the vehicle so fast, his knuckles turning white around the wheel as he gripped harder. He took sharp turns, his only instructions for you to check your seatbelt and stay tucked down.

There was an unsaid rule that when danger seeps past the target and heads for him, he has to get involved. Seeing things out, keeping the blood on his own hands instead of yours—it was a priority that could cost him everything and more. What he knew, what he was capable of, who he worked for, and why it was him in that driver's seat that day—if he didn't get answers, all of this would have been for nothing. And something he believes most of all, nothing happens without a cause or reason.

Even in his world, he can't help impulses.

"Just one night."

You rocked on your heels awaiting a card to give you fortress, attempting to avoid the itch you could never scratch. So close, so far—how could you be so stupid to believe someone would take a chance on you like this?

Your soft breath in was enough to help you hold in your desires, to quiet your mind from its racing thoughts. A card between your middle and index fingers, and all you could want was for someone else to be by your side at this moment in time.

Dragging along one lonesome bag almost too heavy to be on your shoulder, the weight began to float off of you. It was just around a corner when your eyes matched a pair of dark irises, the man that allowed you to enter the hotel in the first place now carrying your bag at his side like it was his.

His walk, left hand at his waist, right hand tight and strong carrying the bag—moving along like no one could ever get in his way.

The security of the elevator doors opening at the touch of his finger, the ding ringing out and giving you enough leverage to finally give him a better glance.

Tall, focused, and wearing a bell-boys outfit.

His figure stood over yours, eyes straight forward and alleviating every nerve in your body. You could feel the cool air seeping back into your pores, feel the release of your tight temples, and even more so—feel the heat radiating off his body as he stood so close to you in such a small space.

"Please tell me this time will be different."

You hardly caught the inhale making his chest expand, the lift of his cheek as his lips made a short-lived smirk.

He didn't even have to look back at you, his voice only sounding from his face. "With your life on the line?"

Hyunwoo always knew what to do or say, almost as if the man had telekinesis.

"Not a chance."

one. | change of plans.

In order to gain your trust, Hyunwoo had explained everything to you that evening. As the car sped in the fast line down multiple main highways to deviate your trace, he had rattled off everything he knew about you.

"This doesn't make any sense." The first sentence was under his breath, his eyes capturing your figure beginning to move back into the seat instead of the bent over position he told you to hold during the intense car chase.

"My order was for you." The way his top lip bounced, spasmed from the words he was speaking and giving a tell of where his anger lied. At first, you couldn't differentiate if he was upset about not taking out his target, or being in the line of fire now, himself. "What would the exchange even be for?"

Your head shook, eyes diverting to the extremely clean leather interior to attempt to side track your racing thoughts. As you clung to your single bag, the one you had already been living out of for almost a month when more and more people mentioned you seemed to be getting followed—it was hard to not shake from the sudden announcement of your once hitman now being the one in charge of your life, and practically holding you captive in a vehicle moving at the highest speed legally possible.

It only took two of the people in your life to be overtaken by fear on their face while telling you something was wrong. A family member you had been with all your life asking why there was someone following you, a tall man who stayed at a far distance. A close companion who you spent almost every day with finally became able to explain the man's features, and even more importantly—the pistol he carried, shown by its shape against the black dress shirt he wore.

"The order came from my boss." His knuckles would turn white every so often as he drove, eyes mainly focused on the road and only blinking from bumps along the highway. "There has to be something more than this."

"Uhm—" That small voice, always an octave lower than it should be when you're trying to get someone's attention. Even with the sound of the wind whipping against the large SUV, with Hyunwoo's mind trying to relap every step he took to get to this dangerous point—he still looked up through the mirror to meet your gaze for a split second.

"Yes?" The man was cold, he had to be to work this job. And yet, there was something about how he always had to make eye contact with you at least once when conversing with you.

"Wh-Who are you? What's your name?"

The man's quick blink made your brows thread together from curiosity. Why was the question so perplexing?

"You clearly know who I am. Or at least, I hope you do from the way you're speaking about me. I just—" He sat in silence, listening to every syllable of your words like a song on the radio you haven't heard in years. "—w-want to know what's going on."

That was the first time you had witnessed Hyunwoo take in a deep breath. The way his chest rose, the buttons on his dress shirt beneath his coat merely snapping at the thread from the muscles he gained from his healthy lifestyle and life-threatening occupation. His thumb tapped at the steering wheel in such a human way, you began to focus on the things that make him more and more like a man working a job instead of some trained assassin he actually lived and worked as.

His brow lifted, shiny features and dark eyes finding you quickly in the rear-view mirror once more. "My name is Hyunwoo. I work for the International Contract Agency as a hired assassin. My job today was to take you to a secluded area and clean, but our sudden chase changed plans. Now I believe that there is something wrong with the situation, and someone gave me orders to put me in danger with you for a reason, as a ploy."

His response sounded robotic, his grip tightening on the wheel and eyes suddenly sinking into themselves as he spoke. The man seemed too picture perfect, seemed to already have the answers to the questions that would leave your mouth—and very quickly was becoming the ally you needed to survive this mess.

"Hyunwoo." His name rolling off your tongue caused him to look at you through a glance of the mirror once more, the final rise of his eyes for the hour making a shiver go down your spine. "Where are we going, e-exactly?

"We're taking this SUV to a far away repair shop. It'll be enough of a reason to stop."

"Why do we need a reason to stop?"

He always answers your question to the best of his ability, and almost right on queue.

"We're being tracked through a device hidden underneath the vehicle." His words made your eyes grow and hands shake, but this time he didn't have to look back to feel your discomfort. "It's okay. There's not a microphone, we can converse as necessary. We're taking this SUV to the repair shop to make it look like a casual stop for help, while it's actually a diversion to slip away."

"You really do this full time, huh?" Your question was the first normal sounding sentence during the entire conversation.

What followed up to such a casual question was something you had been biting your tongue instead of asking—the one you knew he would have an answer for, but that you probably wouldn't like hearing.

"Hyunwoo—" The use of his name again only made his eyes flicker, an obvious sign that the use of a title, one not numbered, was new to him. "What's the plan?"

"We make a run for it. Together."

"Why together? I-I mean—" You stuttered, but meant what you were saying. "A matter of minutes ago you were meant to be putting a gun to my head and blowing my brains out."

"It's not like that." First, he spoke under this breath again as you ranted.

"Then you realized they were shooting at you, too." You carried on like you didn't hear him speak. "So you jumped to conclusions that you're part of this now."

Hyunwoo was the exact description that had come from your close friend. Dark brown hair, even darker—almost scary eyes, the black dress shirt, the pistol at his waist, tall according to the shallow sight you had of his high knees letting you know his legs are long, and clearly on a mission to carry out something considering his stalking. Now the man that was once to be your killer was a sudden main companion—things seemed too strange to be true.

"Jumped to conclusions?" Secondly, his nose scrunched at your words and knuckles tightened again around the wheel.

"And now if we're both not careful, we'll end up dead!"

It was his sudden press to the gas pedal that made the vehicle fly even faster than it had. A swipe at the blinker to show he was changing lanes, the car swaying all the way over to the far right, and his last movements were placing the emergency lights on and putting the SUV in park.

Just as he turned around in his seat—those dark eyes matching your own face to face for the first time making your heart race—did Hyunwoo speak directly to you, not at you.

"You're scared, right?" His words were snappy, you could only nod your head like a child. "I'm right here."

You could feel your temple releasing at those three words, feel the tears that had been threatening to drip from your eyes falling down your face and splattering your shirt with small dots. Everything that had occurred in such a short time was finally coming to you all at once, and Hyunwoo was making it a point that you're not alone in this anymore.

"I've been following you for a month."

"I-I know."

"I never follow anyone for that long." For once, the man was only spitting the truth without sugar-coating or speaking of it without emotion at all. "Something told me you were different. That this was going to be different. I just didn't understand why my conscience knew more than I did."

A man, trained and signed to the largest assassination company. Clearly a hybrid of something else to make everything about him and all he needs to do his job sharper. And slowly beginning to find a more human side to himself based off the way his voice shook and eyes watered for what seemed like the first time ever in his life.

"I can promise you one thing will come out of this. Only one."

"Okay." Your voice was small again, just above a whisper from his close proximity. His entire self focused on you and your response.

"I am going to protect you with my life."

two. | diversion.

The first time you witnessed Hyunwoo raise his pistol—you got the official wave of just how weak you were considering the circumstances.

It didn't take long for someone to come looking for the two of you once the SUV was held still. Raised and being worked on, an attending employee just doing their job—and the entire building exploding minutes later.

You could hear the blast, even at the distance Hyunwoo managed to get both of you by that time. All it took was the car sitting still for ten minutes before the ones in your pursuit configured the vehicle to be parked, and the two of you may still be in it.

Hyunwoo's strong hand grabbed at your wrist, tugging you along the busy streets and looking like nothing more than an overbearing boyfriend or husband to all the wandering eyes. Everyone was soon diverted to the sudden explosion, your limbs shaking while you got out of sight.

"W-What is going on?" Even with Hyunwoo in your lead, his promise to protect you, and his quick witted responses and actions—your body still naturally held enough anxiety to make you pop.

"Hey." His voice had gone softer, the fear in your eyes making him halt in place and press your back into the wall.

His index finger lifted your chin, those dark eyes you had seen so few times now in direct line with your own, and easing your worry in a second. "Look at me."

Your blinking eyes, shivering limbs, and hair-raised skin was enough to tell him you were in over your head, and he needed to be the one on alert. "I've got us. Let's just get somewhere out of the public’s sight."

But the footsteps tailing you sounded just as loud as Hyunwoo's. Movements are quick, just far enough behind the two of you to not be in sight. Hyunwoo was well aware—it seemed almost too obvious that no one would be right behind you.

But watching him grab you and place your body behind his, your back to another chilled wall, and his pistol raised and cocked—he was really someone with complete control.

A true example of just how far into this world Hyunwoo was—the unknowing man ran right into his bullet. A graze to his skull, not a bad enough shot to kill him—but still enough to put him down for good.

Hyunwoo's eyes studied the man, his brows knitted but not in confusion. His facial expression concluded that he had seen the chaser once or twice before, a familiar look in his eyes. The man wept on the ground, reaching up to try and grab at Hyunwoo, but ultimately failed. "Come on."

And soon enough, that exact situation seemed to repeat itself over and over. A far distance that seems like enough, a chase of rushing adrenaline and you clinging to Hyunwoo's frame like he was your human shield, ending in someone's severe take down giving you and him more time to keep running.

Easy to say, you didn't sleep for at least two months while on the run.

Every motel seemed the same: the dim lighting, early 2000's style cable TV, barely any heat or air conditioning, snacks from vending machines becoming meals, and hard mattresses with years of use in every fiber of them.

His fingers would tap at the suitcase style laptop, programs and dissectors making it easier for him to narrow down information. Be it the company he worked for, older clients with a sudden need for a bounty on his head, or something involving yourself—he spent countless nights digging for any kind of red flag.

"You—" His words sounded stuttered for the first time, your eyes from across the room catching his stunned face. "—are you an h-heir?"

"An heir?" You lifted yourself from the bed, pacing in his direction only to find exactly what he had been reading over for an hour now.

Lines of code broke down three subtle sentences of an email sent to whoever was chasing you, found by Hyunwoo who now could only tap his foot against the old carpeting in wonder.

"Heir to millions. Hitman in service. Target to be apprehended."

"Hyunwoo—" Your sight reading the words made your knees feel weak. "What does this mean?"

"It means you've been given a beneficiary title by someone, and will be receiving millions of dollars."

"I don't even think anyone in my family has made this much in their life."

"They don't actually have to be family." He spoke with softer words, watching as your body moved into the seat beside him at the small table before you fell over. "Anyone can give someone an inheritance through their will."

"H-Hitman in service?"

"That would be the ones who keep following us." His eyes quickly reverted back to the screen of the laptop, pupils dilating at the sudden change of brightness from the dark motel room to the device. "There hasn't been an update since the day you got into the SUV. Which means more has been devised, it's just not addressed in any more emails or messages—unless it's coded."

"And they had sight of me." You had caught on to what the lines meant by now, Hyunwoo only nodding.

"This is all—" If tears could flow, they would be rushing like a waterfall in this very moment. "—because of me? Something I didn't even know was happening?"

"Greed." The word slipping off Hyunwoo's tongue was like the bullets he had shot rounds of trying to protect you. "It's the worst human desire."

You watched him close the laptop and stretch his back, the man's sight soon falling back on your own.

"We've been here almost twenty-four hours." You winced at the idea of having to run again, the pained look on your face making him shake his head.

"Does it ever get easier?" So simple to you, but a question that would linger in his mind forever.

"Not without a direct link to who is calling the shots." Hyunwoo spoke with the same emotionless voice you had come to know, except this time it seemed to leave him for just a moment. "But until then—"

How can a stranger become a lifeline to you in a few months time, and yet still feel like you don't even know him?

"You've got me."

three. | when I take your hand.

You had seen more bloodshed in the months you resided by Hyunwoo than you would ever see in your life. Every chance he had to take, pushing you ahead of him to aim or jab at the ones in pursuit—he took it.

But Hyunwoo had once been the one with blood pouring from him, your shaking hands trying to hold a cloth to the wound. The crimson liquid only soaked through every piece of fabric you placed against it, a sudden flash of worry across your face.

The two of you had finally fallen inside a safehouse completely unknown by anyone else but Hyunwoo, and now yourself. The walls were stiffened by plates of armor within the drywall, bulletproof windows still giving you sight to the world outside you could no longer live in, and Hyunwoo—leaning backward as his arm took yours to capture your attention.

“I’m okay.”

“Okay, meaning you need stitches.” The gash had run deep, the ongoing blood being a sign that the wound wouldn’t just heal itself without medical attention.

“Hand me that box there.” His chin pointed in the direction of the first aid kit, a small tin box being what his eyes glanced at before finding your dilating pupils again. “And go find something else to do.”

Your fingers matched his as the box lifted and left your grasp. It only took a moment for your mind to catch up with what was inside, a nylon string and metal needle enough to make you deviate your eyes.

“Fuck.” You winced.

“That’s why I said leave.” The corner of his mouth rose with what seemed like a smirk, fingers pulling at the needle and string until it was placed through the eye and being tied. Dipping the needle into a disinfectant, he pulled at the skin around the injury before poking at himself with the sharp object.

The limited dribbles of blood that left him was nothing like the full wound, itself. Although he kept the items disinfected, there wasn’t anything placed along the wound to numb the pain he was about to feel. But nothing caused him to wince or breathe harder, a steady pace of Hyunwoo’s breath as he stitched himself up making you wonder just how many times he had done this to himself.

“How does that not hurt?” The question left you without thinking, speaking aloud as you watched him snip at the nylon thread once it was secured properly.

“I’ve had lots of practice.” He answered, eyes not looking back up at yours as they usually did.

“On yourself?”

“And on others.”

“You have too much experience in everything.” You sighed, shaking your head.

His eyes finally found you, catching a glimpse at the small cut on your shoulder showing through the ripped fabric of your shirt. “Looks like you were in the crossfire too.”

“We both were. That was too close of a call, Hyunwoo.”

Two men had trailed you down the longest road, your security being in every object that got you out of sight as Hyunwoo searched for a vehicle that was easy to break into. Ducking, weaving, clasping at the man as he led you away—you were both still hit by the strings of bullets sent in your direction, only his was worse.

“It won’t happen again.”

The bulletproof vest he wore beneath his clothes didn’t protect any more than his chest and heart. The outfit he wore, that of someone completely different from himself, didn’t provide much coverage when it came to the fact that the men who chased you had seen you both multiple times before. Each and every month there were new men, sometimes weekly depending on Hyunwoo’s allusive ways of getting you both out of a situation. For the two of you, this pattern seemed never ending.

As the lights turned on throughout the safehouse, the outside world grew darker. AsHyunwoo sat across from you at the table—you could almost wish time would freeze in place.

"How did you get here?" You had bounced around asking him about his world, his life and secrets, for so long. But now that you had both come this far, saw the way his eyes grew softer at the question and his chest released a deep breath—you could tell: he was finally going to speak of himself.

"Me?" He asked, sounding as if he was questioning even himself.

You never took into account that someone like Hyunwoo, with such a tough exterior and focused mindset, may have never been asked anything so personal as this was.

"I just do as I am told."

"That's a lie, Hyunwoo."

Your hands fell between your knees to warm your cold fingertips, leaning in closer to the man's short distanced frame. His brows could only raise at your sudden catch of his slip, head tilting in confusion.

"How am I lying?"

"You're moving on your own right now. You took me under your wing, are protecting me—all on your own accord."

"I never looked at it much like that."

"Then how do you see me?"

You never dug this deep. Never stepped over the line in all this time, asking Hyunwoo a question he could no longer waver an answer to.

"Yeah, you saved me that day. Maybe it was to save your own ass because you were in just as much danger as me."

He could only listen.

"But you're still here."

"I am." His voice, so sincere and careful.

"Although you gave me your word, you could have left me long ago."

Now it was Hyunwoo moving in closer. His form lifted, shirt pulled from his upper half a while ago giving you a sight of his muscles. The mental image had long been shown to you not long after you were paired with him. His habit of walking around in a towel, changing his clothes in front of you—from normal ones to some type of uniform to become a matching person in an upcoming scenario, you had grown used to his body.

The way he appeared to you now, skin tanned and shadowed by the lamps within the home—it seemed almost sensual the way he closed in on you.

Standing over you, right at your side with his head tilted down at you—you could only bite your tongue as he offered you his hand and helped you rise to his level.

Hyunwoo, a man who leapt into action for a stranger, was now staring at that same person with love and lust in his eyes.

"What if I saved you for a selfish reason?" He asked, voice finding your ear at the same time his opposite hand found your waist. The other, his fingers moving between yours to clasp them together and hold you tighter—your head was swimming.

"Months on the run like this. My life has always been this way. Follow instructions. Don't speak unless spoken to. Follow through with your actions no matter the consequences. Never get a blink of real sleep. Eat quickly. No sense of peace or release."

This was the most he had spoken since you met him, and you only wanted him to keep speaking.

"What if I saw you as an opportunity to get out? To run and chase something that is freeing?"

"When's the last time you were touched?" The words left your mouth faster than your brain could register the question in your own head.

And it was just what he wished to hear, the gap between your forms being closed and his lips landing on yours. His mouth was warm, inviting, his tongue dancing along with yours.

He was like a sweet drink—the ones where you drink too many and only realize their power once you're too drunk to stand. His taste intoxicating on its own, your head could only tilt to his height for him to kiss you deeper.

You could only feel the heat radiating off his bare skin as he backed you against the wall. The chill of the house was sent back up your spine as you met his tall form, the small dots of chills showing along your skin only making him groan and kiss you for longer.

His strength, his tight build still strong enough even throughout his tiredness from the injury to lift you again. He pressed you against spaces in the home that seemed restful, giving himself enough time to discard any pieces of clothing he could.

And when your back finally met the large mattress inside the bedroom—your mind was clear. Your fingers played with his hair that had grown longer each week. You found such comfort in him, the same as your mouth did when he kissed you, and even more so for when your eyes found his.

No matter how strong he appeared, fearless and conducted—you were breaking down his walls all while he was slipping into yours. His name being the only word on your tongue, his knuckles turning white holding onto your form to hold you as close as he possibly could. And your sweet release brings you to find small drops of his tears on your skin, his head falling into the nape of your neck.

"I am so sorry." His voice was like shattered glass, the sharp edges of your reality beginning to hurt him ever so slightly. "That this is happening."

"Hyunwoo." You spoke softly, but meant your words. "I'm not scared anymore."

The room's chill found your skin again, nothing but a fire going in the living room's fireplace bringing light into the master bedroom as he lay sprawled on top of you with tears still streaming down his face.

Of all the things he had ever said, of all the soft words spoken to you that night—the first ones that had ever stayed solidified in your mind were the ones he barely said.

"You should be scared of me."

four. | don't turn around.

"Please tell me this time will be different."

"With your life on the line? Not a chance."

His words found your hearing like music notes leaving the strings of a piano being played by an unknown musician. The man had taken bullets for you, had found himself falling in love with you, and here he stood—pretending fate wasn't so hurtful.

You had done everything he told you to do for months. You followed his instructions no matter where you were or what the circumstances could be. Even when you were acting them out, trying to hide your shaking hands—you always followed through.

You could even hear yourself breathing a shaky breath now, hearing the small ding of the elevator seconds before the doors opened to a floor that didn't have your room.

Hyunwoo's arms were tight, not reaching back for you this time. Not as he usually did in such an enclosed and easy to reach space. So few times had you felt his distance, the one leaving your frame cold and in his shadow. With each step you both took, you could feel the eeriness of what was to come.

You paced behind him closely, knew the drill—and heard the door of the stairs open and close before your eyes adjusted to the situation.

Hyunwoo, silent and moving at a slow pace, could not seem any more strange than he did now. No more words, no more instructions, and no more kisses to alleviate any worry for you.

You had become so used to him pulling you into a dark corner, away from anything happening around you—all to just place a kiss on your lips. He knew it kept you going, kept your mind on him and your safety and to help you settle yourself for whatever was to come.

Love had found itself between two people who were meant to have a short meeting. A glimpse of what could be, your time together so shallow to an ocean of life meant to be spent in peace and harmony.

But as each dark corner was passed, his swinging arms slowed by his side until he was only towering over you—you couldn't help but shutter at the sight of him spinning to match the end of his pistol at your head.

Alone. Secluded. And those same stern eyes staring back at you without a single bit of emotion in them.

"H-Hyunwoo?"

Every night his fingers tapped at the keys of the laptop inside his briefcase, and you wondered just what he was doing. Was there a code to break? Someone to speak to for the next move? Had he gained information to help free you both?

"W-Why did you trust me that day?" Was it the bullet being loaded into the chamber, sounded by a click from the weapon that made him stutter—or your watering eyes? "When we met, you trusted me so quickly."

"You had a plan." You didn't stutter again, couldn't find it in yourself to be fearful of him—even now. "You're doing this for a reason. I could tell you knew what you were doing."

The man could only rock on his heels, a pained expression on his face making you blink at the silence. Hyunwoo, the man you had grown to love and make love to, seemed to shift back into that same man you met the first day you slipped into that SUV while believing he was only your driver.

When the realization had hit you that he was the exact figure that had been described to be following you—you almost couldn't catch your breath for long enough to take into account that you were being followed.

"When that chase started off, and you realized that they weren't just shooting at me—" You spoke to him softly, but there was a small pit of concern in your voice. "You only thought of me. Of getting me out of there. Of figuring out what was happening."

"I knew what was happening."

His voice didn't fluctuate. He didn't hesitate, didn't waver his eyes over your body like a scan to capture any physical response from you, and most certainly didn't care for your racing mind full of questions.

"It was—" He had wanted to say it all along. You could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed as he spoke. "—all a set up."

His growing closeness, all the way down to the first night you pressed together in a way that was delightful and loving. It was a ruse to get what he needed.

"Even if I did love you." This was the first time Hyunwoo had ever spoken of you with the word love in his sentence. "This is just my job."

Do what he does best. Follow orders. Be the bodyguard you needed. Gain your trust. Get closer. Take action, and bullets for you. Get even closer. Play with your mind, your heart has to follow. Be the closest you can be.

He needed a DNA sample, a path to keep him from being a suspect, an alibi, and a way to rid himself of you in the end.

And here he was, and there you were.

"Hyunwoo."

"I have all the evidence that I need to make a headline without getting myself involved. You were just a pawn."

"You don't mean that—" His gun only pushed towards you closer.

The path he had taken you through the halls from the elevator put you in direct sight of the CCTV, and made you disappear without a trace.

You were his target all along.

"I am what I am." His teeth were clenched, pearled bones pressed together making his jawline sharper and brows thread together.

Hyunwoo was in a battle with himself. His heart thumped at the same, rapid rhythm as yours—it reminded him he was human. But following through with his orders, the money being the dire need for him to be the one freed—he had no other choice.

"You're not selfish." You whispered, keeping your eyes on his and not the silver pistol closing in on you until it was pressed against your forehead.

"You don't know me." His words were broken, like he was trying to say one thing but something else was spoken instead. "All I wanted was to feel love—feel the humanity you could give me—just for a moment."

Those hot tears were a dull image in your mind. Watching someone so strong become completely fragmented, it was the most painful experience you've ever felt.

"And I did."

"You did what, Hyunwoo?"

You could feel his hand jolt, knew what was coming next. But his words comforted the pain that soon followed. Your body shook, falling to the ground as the ear piercing sound of the gunshot echoed inside the staircase. Once and for all—beyond the belief that one day you would lose him to this life, it was you who left him.

"I really did love you."

if you enjoyed this: vote for the next fatal love story!

TAGLIST — @blizzardfluffykpop @crownofluminarys @honey-zip @minkyuncutie​

[bearseokie]

FATAL LOVE [M] — monsta x

‘It's cruel and beautiful, love killa

the thrills of danger and romance have crossed your path, their existence becoming important to you. in a messed up world, it’s the fatality of love that will show you that every beat of your heart counts.

DISCLAIMER!  || all stories are member x gender-neutral reader. this series contains disturbing contents, heavy warnings per part, along with mature & sexual themes. minors do not interact. please read each description carefully.

DISCONTINUED SERIES ANNOUCEMENT! || due to my leave from this blog and writing fanfiction all together, this series has been discontinued! but please enjoy shownu & hyungwon’s fics while you’re still here! <3

LISTEN TO THE FATAL LOVE ALBUM

VOTE FOR THE NEXT STORY HERE!

TAGLIST | UPDATES | DISCUSSION TAG | MX MLIST

© bearseokie 2022. do not modify, repost, or translate in any way. please.

A PRICE WORTH PAYING

never a freelance worker, hyunwoo has always had his tie a little too tight around his neck. when bullets fly at your innocent head, he realizes those that are after you aren't out for a bounty, but for blood. palm around his gun at his waist and you in his peripheral, it's not a day's work well done until you're safe.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | hitman: agent 47 | 6.3k ] GENRES — hitman! au, romance, thriller, smut, angst WARNINGS — mature content, violence, organized crime, victimization, uncomfortable situations, intense situations, kidnapping, blood, severe injuries (gunshot wounds & cuts), language, self defense, height difference, death. RELEASED ON — JULY 20TH, 2022.

‘Like hunting for prey by holding his breath

STAGE PRESENCE

a round of shining men meant to please the eye, only one gains the most attention from his mysterious appearances. your job is to mainly make them more attractive, but your task is to dig up the dirt on the man who runs the place. two occupations in one, hoseok assures you that your deeds will be well won when you choose your side.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | magic mike | 0k ] GENRES — exotic dancer! au, romance, thriller, smut WARNINGS — updating... STATUS — DISCONTINUED.

‘See a beauty and a beast inside yeah

CLEAN AND COLLECT

his entire life is following behind a killer and removing blood and plastic with your apartment building's keys in his hands. it was a mistake giving him two sets that day, but minhyuk's head was on the line and his heart was in your hands. covering scenes wasn't an easy life, but falling for the man that cleans up the mess and protects you from taking the fall could make it better.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | american psycho | 0k ] GENRES — crime scene clean up! au, romance, thriller, smut WARNINGS — updating... STATUS — DISCONTINUED.

‘The spin of this heart that gets rougher

QUID PRO QUO

the darkening mind of kihyun now laid at your fingertips. the doctor that had been driven mad by his serial killer patients now gave his trust to you that you could help return him to normal, remind him of the world before he worked in such dark spaces. the man behind bars knew this much: you were bound to the same path as he.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | silence of the lambs | 0k ] GENRES — exes! au, romance, thriller, smut WARNINGS — mental turmoil, more to be added... STATUS — DISCONTINUED.

‘To me you arе a beautiful being who is very sick and sad

BLOOD ORANGE

an elusive man who had your heart from the get go, the bloodied bruises of his occupation lend you a new lifestyle—but at a cost. hyungwon had always run the money for the bar, always had control over the fights, but when you slip into his life and bring him love to learn from, he forgets to never mix work with pleasure.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | fight club | 5k ] GENRES — bookie! au, forbidden love! au, mafia! au, thriller, romance, angst, smut WARNINGS — mature and sexual content, organized crime, violence, robbing, blood/cuts/major injuries, mentions of stitches, use of petnames (baby & doll) RELEASED ON — JUNE 27TH, 2022.

‘My life has become free of love because of you

TO LAUGH, YOU MUST SMILE

the man with the plan and the biggest smile, too bad you stumbled upon him on a bad day—seems you'll be staying with him for a while. jooheon had never wanted a partner in crime, nor had he believed he needed one. but one little thing goes over his head, and he needs an alias: looks like love and insanity go hand in hand.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | the dark knight | 0k ] GENRES — fake dating! au, thriller, romance, angst, smut WARNINGS — violence, more to be added... STATUS — DISCONTINUED.

‘Treat me carelessly and turn into a monster

OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR

same car, different driver. when an abrupt chance is taken and you hop into the wrong car thinking it's your friend waiting for you—changkyun is a little more concerned that you just willingly made yourself an accomplice to his deal. five minutes pass, now you're seat belted in and stuck with him. it'll be a long night.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | drive | writing! ] GENRES — getaway driver! au, thriller, romance, smut WARNINGS — updating... STATUS — DISCONTINUED.

‘On the road again in an endless long dream

© 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗲 2022. do not modify, repost, or translate in any way. please.