The Black rose (Minsung ff)

Warmth

The tension in the air didn't dissipate as Minho's voice echoed through the room. Every mafia leader sat at attention, waiting for his next move. His earlier declaration of Jisung as the Red Rose had sent waves of whispers across the table, but there was a bigger issue at hand.

"The Red Rose is under my protection, And all of yours too." Minho reiterated, his gaze hardening as it swept over the faces at the table. "And now, there is something more pressing we must address." He paused, leaning back in his chair, the cold, calculating demeanor over again.

"There's been a... disturbance," Minho began, his voice dripping with disdain. "The Eastern Syndicate has been testing our patience, undermining our authority, and refusing to pay their dues." His fingers drummed lightly against the polished wood of the table, a subtle but dangerous rhythm. "They've made threats. Small, insignificant actions—but these things grow."

A collective murmur ran through the room. The Eastern Syndicate was infamous for being unpredictable, but to rebel against the Black Rose? It was a foolish decision. Still, Minho's calmness wasn't one of complacency, but of someone planning something far worse.

"This rebellion cannot be allowed to Continue." His voice sharpened, and the room fell silent again. "If we don't cut them down now, they'll grow bolder. And if they think we're weak—" Minho's eyes narrowed, "—there will be consequences across the board."

"We'll Have move quickly," Minho continued, his voice now tinged with finality. "We'll hit them hard, take out their leadership, and anyone loyal to them. No mercy." His gaze landed on one of the leaders to his right. "Your people will handle the docks. I want every inch of their smuggling routes destroyed."

A few nods of agreement rippled across the table, though none dared speak out of turn.

Minho stood, a silent signal that the meeting was over. "You have your orders. You know what happens if you fail." His words were a warning. "Meeting adjourned."

--

Jisung sat alone in Minho's lavish office, the ticking of a clock on the wall the only sound that filled the room. His fingers nervously fidgeted with the hem of his oversized hoodie, his mind spinning in a thousand different directions.

The reality of the past hour weighed heavy on him. Minho's words echoed in his head, "You're under my protection now, my love." He tried to steady his breathing, but the uncertainty of what came next made his chest tighten.

"What have I gotten myself into..." he whispered to himself, staring at the luxurious surroundings. The office was grand—floor-to-ceiling windows on one side offered a view of the city skyline, while dark wood furniture and leather chairs filled the room, exuding wealth and power. But despite its beauty, it felt cold. Intimidating.

Jisung pulled his legs up onto the leather couch, hugging his knees to his chest as he waited. He had no idea what Minho wanted from him, or why he had declared him as the Red Rose in front of the mafia leaders. Everything was moving too fast, and he didn't know how to stop it.

The door clicked open, and Jisung jumped slightly, turning to see Minho stride in, his bodyguards remaining outside as the door closed softly behind him. His expression was unreadable, his posture calm and composed, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of warmth—that softened his intimidating presence.

"Princess," Minho said softly, walking over to him. "I'm sorry I left you alone for so long."

Jisung shook his head, trying to act like it didn't bother him, even though the weight of the entire situation was crushing him inside. "It's fine."

Minho's gaze lingered on him for a moment, reading the unease in his posture. He sighed quietly before crossing the room, sitting down next to Jisung on the couch. He was close, close enough that Jisung could feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was comforting, but also made his heart race.

"I know you're confused," Minho began, his voice softer now that they were alone. "You must have a lot of questions."

Jisung swallowed, his throat dry. "Why did you... why did you say I'm your Red Rose? What even is a Red Rose?"

Minho's eyes softened, and for the first time since Jisung had met him, there was a vulnerability in them. He reached out, taking Jisung's hand in his again, his thumb tracing the same calming circles as before. The gesture was gentle, intimate—such a contrast to the cold, ruthless Minho Jisung had seen earlier.

"Because I've been keeping an eye on you for a long time, Ji," Minho confessed quietly. "And somewhere along the way... I fell for you."

Jisung's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. Fell for him? It seemed impossible. Minho—the Black Rose, the man who commanded the most dangerous criminal organization in the world—had feelings for him?

Minho's gaze never wavered. "You're different, Jisung. You don't belong in this world, but I dragged you into it. I hate myself it had to be this way, But this was the only way I could get you closer.. I was scared you wouldn't accept me for who I am. When I saw Your struggles, Jisung.. Working day and night only to survive... I couldn't stand by and let it happen."

Jisung felt a lump form in his throat. The memories of his capture, the torture, the endless fear—it all came flooding back. But Minho had saved him. He had pulled him out of that nightmare, even if Jisung still didn't fully understand why.

"I chose you as my Red Rose," Minho continued, "because I want to protect you. Not as a Powerful person protecting a pawn, but as a man protecting the person he loves."

Jisung's breath hitched, his chest tightening. He didn't know what to say. The weight of Minho's confession was overwhelming, and yet... there was a part of him that was drawn to Minho. The way he looked at him, the way he touched him—It sent shivers down his spine, It made Jisung feel safe, even in the midst of all this chaos.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Minho said softly, his fingers still tracing those calming circles on Jisung's hand. "And I don't expect you to feel the same way right now. But I needed you to know the truth."

Jisung's heart was pounding in his chest, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and something else—something he wasn't ready to name yet.

 But as he looked into Minho's eyes, he saw the sincerity there. This wasn't just some power play or manipulation. Minho genuinely cared for him.

And despite everything, Jisung felt something stir inside him. A tiny flicker of warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Minho," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I don't know what to say."

Minho smiled softly, a rare, genuine smile that made him look so much younger, less like the cold-hearted mafia king and more like a man who had just bared his soul. "You don't have to say anything, Ji. I just needed you to know how I feel."

The silence between them was thick with unspoken emotions. Jisung's mind raced, but his body acted on instinct. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in, his eyes flickering to Minho's lips.

Minho's breath caught, but he didn't move, didn't push him away. He simply waited, his hand still resting gently on Jisung's.

And then, before Jisung could second-guess himself, he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips softly against Minho's.

The kiss was tentative at first, unsure and hesitant. But Minho responded immediately, his hand sliding up to cup Jisung's cheek as he deepened the kiss, his lips warm and soft against Jisung's. It wasn't rushed or demanding—it was gentle, filled with unspoken promises and emotions that neither of them could fully put into words.

Jisung's hands trembled slightly as he clutched the front of Minho's shirt, pulling him closer. His mind was a blur, but in that moment, all he could think about was the warmth of Minho's lips, the steady, calming presence of his touch.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they tried to steady their racing hearts.

Minho's hand slid down to Jisung's neck, his thumb brushing lightly against his skin. "You make me weak for you, Han jisung."

Jisung closed his eyes, leaning into Minho's touch, the last of his resistance crumbling away. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe again.