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skzdarlings · 6 months

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part ix: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 11,700 words)

chapter warnings: the usual dynamics. child abuse history. reader in peril. violence and death. explicit sexual content.

(THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! <3)

You move back into your father’s house after graduation. You are surrounded by all your old pains, your childhood and adolescence written into each familiar brick and tile. Your past overwhelms you at every turn. It is a fight to focus on your future.

But you are ready to fight.

The only question is how, especially when you are battling your own emotions in that house.

Your reprieves are small. You find some solace in routine and the distraction of your job. Your father gives you an internship at his company. The role is honestly superfluous, comprised of busy work and redundant tasks, but it is clear he is not ready for you to meddle in any real business affairs. You are not sure if that is because he does not trust you or because he does not trust his business people with you.

You still see Jeongin and Seungmin, less than you did but often enough. They are both pursuing higher degrees so when you meet them at that campus coffee shop, it feels like a moment back in time. But lingering on the past, even the good memories, is no greater help than lingering on the bad ones.

Because there is also Felix.

You return to silent, secret communication. He will make you feel flushed with just a glance, so much thought in his gaze that you feel it to the depths of you. It seems like he does not even need to touch you to make love to you.

But when he does touch you, it releases you from the prison of your house and your mind. You put your body in his hands for a few precious moments and he takes care of it. And in the long days in which he bears the dehumanizing commands of your father, wearing the identity of a non-person to never arouse suspicions otherwise, then he places his humanity in your hands for safe keeping. You give it back to him with your own glances and careful touches.

It takes so much effort to take care of each other, so the idea of active offense seems nearly impossible. Felix certainly thought it was impossible, the one time you asked, but that was years ago. Things have changed. You and Felix have changed.

You do not know what your father is holding over his head. You only know it is something, and you think it might be time to find out what.

You want to do this right. Felix does not have to carry his burdens alone anymore. You need him to truly understand that you want to protect him as much as he protects you. You know there is a part of him that still believes he does not deserve it.

All your plans are thrown into flux the day your father calls Felix into his office.

Usually when your father summons Felix, it is for routine updates. But this is a long meeting. It lasts at least two hours with the office door sealed shut. Your mind races with the possibility of what is being discussed.

You find yourself gravitating to that side of the house, anxiety worsening the longer that door stays shut. As the clock ticks, your nerves get the best of you. You wander closer, hoping you can hear from the corridor.

The guard at the door stares at you. His scrutinizing regard gets under your skin. Before you can stop yourself, you snap at him, “What? I’m just walking.”

“You don’t need to walk here,” he says and waves you off, dismissive as always.

A lot of the men in your father’s employ seem to get some perverted joy out of dismissing or punishing you. They have since you were a child. Their surveillant eyes played host in your nightmares for years. His smug countenance coupled with his threatening stance makes your blood boil in helpless frustration.

“Fuck you,” you say. You want to hurl it at him, but it spills out of your lips no stronger than a whimper. Your fists are balled at your side and your brain is screaming to walk away, but your body goes cold.

“Do not take a tone, bitch,” he says.

The unwarranted name-calling feels like a slap. It is him flaunting the obvious truth: your father has never taken your side and he never will. You are nothing but a problem that needs to be solved. You are still just a stupid, emotional child who needs a fist closed around her to keep her safe from the greatest danger in her life: herself.

“I said walk away, little girl,” the guard continues. “Your presence is not needed.”

“I’ll go where I want,” you say. “This is my house.”

“It’s your father’s house. Now walk away or I will escort you myself.”

“I dare you to try.”

You feel like you are outside of your body, watching this ridiculous scene unfold with no way to stop it.

He takes a menacing step forward and you stumble back. You bump into the wall and hit a small mirror, barely a nudge but enough to knock it off its hook.

It shatters at your feet. Yu step on a shard of glass and sharp pain lances through your foot. It feels like someone driving a knife straight through it. You scream, the sound ripped out of you in surprise.

The office door swings open and your father storms out. For a moment, he looks alarmed, eyes wide and brows high, but this only fuels his anger when he sees you are unharmed. Fury conquers fear in moments.

“Look!” you cry in protest. You lift your foot because you must have a massive shard of glass protruding from it.

Your father does not even look down. He marches into his office and shouts something that you are too disoriented to register. Your attention has narrowed to a pinprick of a point, centred entirely around the gash in your foot.

You only register what is happening when a familiar face enters your vision. Felix is in a black t-shirt and jeans, his hair in a short ponytail with not a strand out of place. Whatever transpired in that office was clearly not confrontational. He is completely fine.

His thick boots crunch over the glass. On your father’s order, he swoops you easily into his arms and carries you into the office.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you say. Your tears infuriate you. They are the result of physical pain but it is only exacerbating the hurricane inside you. “God, it hurts so much. How big is it—”

“A foot wound hurts more than usual cuts,” Felix says.

He puts you on the couch in your father’s office. You father is standing by his desk, drinking coffee and rolling his eyes. You want to shout at him, purely on instinct, but your coherency is shot when Felix pulls the glass out of your foot.

More tears fall, some in relief. Then you look down and see an impossibly tiny shard. You cannot believe how small it is. It truly felt like it went deeper, like it slashed right through your foot.

“Show me,” your father says.

Felix meets your gaze, his eyes apologetic. He lifts the glass for your father to see. Then another glass breaks when your father smashes his coffee mug in a fit of frustration.

“It really hurt!” you protest, feeling as pathetic as you sound.

“Ridiculous, dramatic child,” your father says. “Felix, close the door.”

Felix obeys. He cannot show any hesitation. He is the emotionless robot that your father wants.

Felix closes the door as commanded then stands against it. He folds his hands behind his back and stares ahead, not sparing you another glance. He looks every inch a waiting soldier. Someone who would sooner drive a knife through his own hand than disobey an order.

“You want to cry?” your father asks, as if you are not already hiccupping on half-aborted sobs. “Do you have any idea about the scale of work I have to accomplish this week? Do you think I play games behind these doors? For you to – to – to waltz around, acting like a child and throwing a tantrum over nothing—”

You must be dripping blood on the hardwood but he does not even care to look. He stalks to his desk where he sits.

“Felix,” your father says, his rage barely suffused in the address. He gestures to you and says no more.

You and Felix meet eyes. He conceals his alarm fairly well. You doubt anyone else would see fear and concern in the subtle crease of his brow. He makes it look contemplative, but you see it. You see him.

And you know he is making a mistake before he even says anything.

“Sir?”

Your father, who was looking at a file on his desk, lifts his head.

You and Felix have been in this office many times. He has watched your father beat you, and you have watched him take as many strikes on your behalf. Your father’s instructions are implicit in the environment, under the circumstances. He is asking Felix to deliver a beating on his behalf. Experience and common sense should be clarity enough for a soldier like Felix.

This confusion, feigned to buy himself a moment, is worthy of your father’s furious stare.

“What?” your father snaps.

Felix hesitates, then approaches.

That moment of hesitation is enough. You look at your father. Just like you can read Felix, you can read that man. You can see the calculation behind his eye. Everyone is a thing, a statistic, a number, something that be crunched and calculated, something that can be used and discarded if the calculations are unfavourable. Things are supposed to function according to his commanded algorithm.

Felix is not supposed to hesitate.

You were correct to assume your father would never suspect your affair based on romance. He does not see or recognize an exchange of true love. But he understands violence. He understands its absence. Felix could kiss you and your father would not notice, but Felix refusing to hit you is worth a second glance.

With very little time to think, you diffuse those suspicions before they take flight. When Felix is near, you do not hesitate to swipe at him. You land a mean smack on his cheek that sufficiently surprises him.

He meets your eyes. They are narrowed with righteous anger as you play the part you must. You know he sees the apology in them. You hope he sees the forgiveness.

Felix returns the smack. He does not hit you anywhere near as hard as he could – even your father would hit you harder – but it is still enough of a crack that your head turns on impact. You clutch your cheek and your whole body quivers, like it is confused by the alternating directions of pain.

“Don’t you dare touch me again,” you say, looking at Felix. “You stupid animal. I hate you.”

That you know he cannot misunderstand.

And so it is within that mute understanding you hand yourself over, as you have so often done. Felix does what he can to lighten the severity, just as he always does, but it still requires a few good hits so your father believes your weepy surrender.

You are very quiet after. You can hear your father’s pen scratching across a paper pad. He watched it all then went right back to work.

You remember when you chased the high of his attention just to linger in a pit of despondency for hours after. You do not feel that now. Pure, unadulterated rage flows through you, hot as fire and as all-consuming. You feel no other emotion in that moment.

You look at your father, unwavering.

“I despise you,” you say.

Then pen on the paper stops. For a moment, he seems struck. But then he crosses a line on the page and resumes his work, not once looking at you, your bruises, or your blood. Not acknowledging your anger, the one trait you inherited from him.

“You’ll see,” your father says, with a fair degree of poise and equanimity. Unbothered, like he is talking about ordinary things. You suppose he is. What could be more ordinary to this man than the ominous prophesizing of his self-inflicted horror? “One day,” he says. “When I am gone and you really see the world for what it is, you will understand why I did what I have done. You will be safe and you will thank me.”

I will kill you before I ever thank you, you think, and realize with a shiver you truly mean it.

“Felix, retrieve Domino,” your father says.

Domino is the guard posted at the door. When he enters, he gives you a cursory glance, his cheek dimpled, the amusement towards your situation scarcely concealed.

Your father’s money might afford him influence over this stock of men, but they are all in the business of profitable pain. Military men, ex-cops: they are a dirty and criminal ilk who are accustomed to holding authority in their own right. It is little wonder they never liked you and you never liked them.

“Sir,” Domino says, at attention.

“Take my daughter to her room and see to it she is tended. Then send someone to clean up this mess. I have work to finish here and I will not tolerate any further interruptions. None. Do you understand?”

“Sir,” is the reply, affirmative, with a sharp nod.

“Good. Felix. Sit.”

Your father gestures to the chair across his desk and Felix moves towards it. Unlike the perfect boy soldier who once sat in that chair, Felix kicks it because he is glancing back at you.

You meet his eye for a brief moment, then the world spins as Domino picks you up. It is a grappling yank, like you grab a thing, with no care for injury or a polite touch.

You are carried out of the office and back to your room. One of the crew’s medics patches your foot. You sit through it with a cold detachment, then your room is empty and you are alone, waiting in bed for Felix so you can ask what is happening and discuss what to do.

Felix never comes.

In your wildest imaginings of what transpired behind that door, a job is not what you anticipate. It is at once too strange and too mundane.

A job is not an operation; it is an errand, a sleight of hand conducted in the shadowed crevice of a greater business scheme. It is not unusual for your father to send his men out on these jobs. But in all the years Felix has been in his employ, he has never been sent out. His only occupation is to serve as your bodyguard, and he has proven time and again how he is irreplaceable in that position.

You do not know what makes this job different. You glean only a little information from the chatter of the crew, just enough that you know it is a stealth acquisition and a rare, unprovoked move against Miroh. Your father is known for his defensive tactics, seldom manoeuvring in offense, so you suppose the inclusion of his best solider on a risky venture makes sense. Felix is likely your father’s only guarantee.

But you cannot shake there is something else. Felix is more than just a soldier and Miroh is more than just a businessman. You know their past is tangled together.

You do not get a chance to ask. The next time you see Felix is through a window. You are in the upstairs corridor, staring down at the driveway as he climbs into a van with a few other agents. Then the van pulls away and it is just you in that house with your temporary replacement bodyguard team.

Even your father leaves, though you doubt he will be involved in the physical mission itself. You overhear him telling your security that he anticipates returning in a week. You count down the hours until then.

By the second day, you are sick with worry. Sitting around with your unanswered questions makes the time drag. Hours pass in dissociation, unmoving and anxious. You decide that waiting will only worsen your state. Although you are not keen to wander around town with your security entourage in tow, you cannot sit here either.

The team is made of three men including Domino. They are all as subtle as a scream with their bulk and demeanour, and every bit like all the others.

Though they will undoubtedly report even the most mundane actions, they acquiesce and take you into town. The campus café is one of your father’s approved locations.

You are not sure if you want to run into your friends. The distraction would be a welcome one, not to mention the balm that is a smile from a friendly face, but you also have no idea how you will explain the obvious security. You are exhausted with lies. You are not sure you could spin a convincing story even if you wanted, and you do not.

The café is always quiet before lunch. There are a few students scattered around so even though you feel ridiculous, no one pays you much attention.

One guard waits outside the door, one inside by a window, and Domino stays by your side as you order your drink and take a seat.

You forgot just how invasive and uncomfortable this dynamic was. If you were not so drained, you would be snapping at them just to relieve the tension drawn tight in your chest. Instead, you endure. Every breath feels more strained than the last. You cannot focus on your work any better here. The words on your screen are just meaningless letters and shapes.

You stare at your hands, at their faint, vibrating tremble.

Then you hear your name. The guards have been addressing you as girl, sometimes subject or the daughter when speaking to each other. The gentler murmur of your name momentarily stills the shaking of your fingers, steady as a hand grasping yours. You lift your head and see Jeongin, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, his dark hair a shaggy mess, and his concerned eyes flitting between you and Domino.

“Hey,” Jeongin says with that dimpled smile. “What’s up?”

“Who is this?” Domino asks. Before you can answer, he turns to Jeongin and says, “Stand back. You do not have permission to stand here.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping a palm to your forehead.

You are flooded with childhood memories, idiots like this intimidating everyone who tried to speak to you for longer than a minute. Whether they took the form of a guardian or masqueraded as a janitor or something else, they always made everyone sufficiently uncomfortable. Even Jisung was often disturbed by them, though he drew the wrong conclusions about their identity. He was good with weird.

Jeongin must be made of a similar mettle. He gives your guard a pinched look, lip curled like he smells something bad, but he does not move. He looks at you with a tip of the head, concern once more creasing his features.

“Do you need help?” he asks.

The poor guy must be so confused. You look like you are being held hostage in a coffee shop by a stupidly inconspicuous thug.

All you can do is sigh and shake your head. “I’m fine, Jeongin,” you say, a very unconvincing lie. “I’ll catch you around, yeah?”

“Move along,” Domino says.

Jeongin looks at him. His glance flicks up and down. Then he says, “Your fly is down.”

Domino stares at him, unblinking, as if he can vaporize Jeongin with just a glare. Jeongin stares back.

“Really, Jeongin,” you say. A genuine breath of a laugh leaves your lips. Jeongin could not even throw a punch without smacking a chair, but he is willing to stick up for you. And his annoyance tactic is the funniest defense you can imagine.

Jeongin finally leaves, but with a glance over his shoulder. You fight the urge to throw something at the guards who watch him go.

“Who was that?” Domino asks.

“I don’t know his name,” you say. “He was just a classmate a long time ago.”

You hope that is enough to make him forgettable.

You act casual, taking a sip of your coffee. Then Domino looks down into his lap, quickly checking his fly. Your snorting laughter sprays coffee everywhere.

Fortunately, this does not impact the report. You are allowed to return to the same coffee shop the next day. This time both Seungmin and Jeongin are there, books open but blathering in distracted conversation. Another young guy is sitting with them, maybe a classmate, though he has no books with him. He is sprawled in a chair, holding a coffee and grinning at whatever the boys are saying.

He notices you first, probably because you are staring. He tips his head as he looks at you, black bangs falling across his forehead. He is noticeably stocky and broad, but he smiles behind the brim of his coffee cup and it is incredibly disarming.

He is handsome but the overt flirtation brings only pain. It makes you think of Felix. You barely slept last night, tossing and turning with anxiety. Your stress only worsened when you woke in an empty bed.

You are so fraught with anxiety, your whole body feels taut like a thread about to snap.

Something is going to happen, or maybe it already has. It is bad. You know it intuitively, the way you know which hand will strike when your father is in a mood, the way you know a black car on a quiet street is an enemy, the way you have always known this life is a death sentence, a slow execution by the brutality of weathering.

You look away from the stranger’s smile. Then Jeongin sees you and his laughter fades, concern and curiosity drawing his brows together. He nudges Seungmin who looks too, tipping his head with a questioning look.

You just shrug and take a seat at a different table. There is nothing else to do.

Domino sits with you, as bored with his duty as ever. You believe your whole team is annoyed with their job. Your father would not leave weak soldiers in charge of you, but he also had to take his very best with him. These men are probably too competent for menial work and are likely offended by their assignment. They are the worst of the best.

Which is how you steal a moment to talk to Seungmin. One guard outside, one at the window, and Domino at your table. He lets you leave to get some sugar for your coffee, watching with glazed-over indifference as you fuss at the counter.

Seungmin joins you, pretending he is also grabbing sugar.

“You’re keeping some weird company,” he says in a low voice. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need help?”

You swallow an unexpected lump in your throat. Your friendship with Seungmin and Jeongin was only ever casual, so it is quite touching that the two civilians are so willing to defend you, even when standing at an obvious disadvantage against your thugs.

Your prepared lie gets tangled in that lump. You swallow it down. For a moment, your mouth is open with nothing to say. You both stir your coffee slowly. Eventually you take a breath.

“It’s complicated,” you say. “It’s just to do with my dad. Thank you, though.”

There is a beat of silence before he says, “We’re friends, okay? Just let us know if we can help.”

You have been trapped in solitude for days now. Seungmin provides the comforting reminder that your world is not all bad. Though he cannot do much to help, the sentiment in his simple offer is enough to temper the worst of your anxiety, at least for the time being.

“Thank you,” you say. “Really.” You spare a glance at Domino who is watching you intensely, just waiting for you to slip up and do something that warrants a reprimand or report. “I better get back,” you say. “Say hi to Jeongin, and say sorry from me for yesterday. You guys have fun with your friend.”

“Oh, we don’t know that guy. He just sat with us out of nowhere,” Seungmin says, laughing. “He says his name is Changbin. But he paid for our coffee so he can sit wherever he likes, haha.”

You smile at his playfulness. He smiles too, then he walks back to his table. Your eyes follow him and settle on the stranger – Changbin.

You want to keep smiling, want to imagine the stranger is just an awkward university kid making friends in a weird way. But Changbin is looking at you again, with the same intensity as Domino. Your eyes skirt his shoulders and biceps and his too-charming smile.

You want to chalk it up to paranoia, exacerbated by the extra stress of the last few days. But something is off about this stranger appearing here, suddenly, at a place you are known to frequent, the week your father is moving against Miroh, when Felix is gone and you are vulnerable. He is sitting with your friends, like he knows they are your friends, like he can trick you into trusting him by their proximity.

He is not like your father’s guards who are blatantly out of place. Changbin is so visible that he is invisible. Just a friendly college boy.

Just like Felix.

You are being ridiculous, you tell yourself. You cannot walk around assuming everyone is an enemy. But you cannot shake the feeling of wrongness, the awful premonition that something is going to happen.

You try to ignore Changbin as you drink your coffee but you are unsuccessful. Your hackles are raised and will not come down, made worse by the indifference of everyone around you. Domino is none the wiser. The other guards have not left their posts. Your friends are laughing with him like he is just some guy.

You ask yourself what Felix would do. You imagine he would not cause a scene or confront Changbin. He would quietly take your arm and usher you to safety, only fighting in retaliation if necessary. Part of his job has always been discretion, but he has never relished in violence anyway. It is always a last resort.

Your instincts have often propelled you into heated action until you freeze, always one extreme or the other. Now, you calm yourself and steady your shaking hands. You comfort yourself the way Felix would. You tell Domino you want to go home. He makes some agitated remark about you needing to make up your mind, that you only just arrived, but you do not rise to his bait. You close your laptop and pack your bag.

It takes one second. Changbin is sitting with your friends, then you look down. When you lift your head, he is gone. The boys think nothing of it. Your guards don’t notice. You want to scream but you know it won’t make a difference. These men won’t listen to you.

You leave with your guards. The large campus is practically a city unto itself, separated from the mainland by a stretch of woods. It is a scenic drive with a deer park in its centre, but all you see is rain ripping through branches and the shadows between each slash of grey daylight.

You are almost relieved when something thumps heavily onto the roof. But the relief that you were right is short-lived when all hell breaks loose.

You close your eyes, arms wrapped around yourself in the back seat. Glass shatters and the car skids to a rough stop, flying off the road and onto the forest terrain.

You open your eyes to the windshield in pieces, the driver frozen with his head thrown back. Domino and the other guard are out of their seats in seconds, making the same mistake as Miroh’s men all that time ago. You know how this fight will end.

You look through the broken windshield. Changbin flies into view and knocks Domino onto his knees. It takes one roundhouse kick for him to fall over, unconscious. The other guard tries to take a shot but Changbin disarms him with a couple sharp moves. You close your eyes when Changbin shoots.

He fights with the same fluidity as Felix. For a moment, you are back there, eighteen years old and frightened and relieved all at once. Except when the back door opens this time, you are not quick to rush out. It is not Felix waiting for you.

Changbin clears his throat and you slowly look over. He is wearing jeans and a leather jacket and does not look ruffled in the slightest. Dark hair falls over his forehead as he tips his head. He smiles, handsome and charming. As unassuming as Felix when his eyes crinkle up with delight and he laughs like he has never known pain. Like he was not raised for the purpose of violence, property of Miroh, of your father, of whoever else, acting as their hand because they won’t get their own fingers dirty.

Changbin gestures to you, curling his fingers, a mute come here.

“Hurry up,” he says. “Time to go.”

You imagine escaping out the other door, trying to make a run for it through the forest. You know you will not get far.

“Are you one of them?” you ask, impulsively. “Miroh’s?”

You already know the answer.

Changbin blinks at you, then laughs.

“It depends,” he says, then tuts like he thinks you are preciously naïve. “I personally think I’m one of a kind. But I guess we’ll find out. Now get out of the car.”

With little choice in the matter, you obey. Your legs wobble when you stand so you instinctively take the hand he offers.

You have not yet steadied yourself when he yanks you into his arms. Though Felix undoubtedly holds strength in his lithe form, he is more dexterous and athletic than outright powerful. He knows how to use his body to its best advantage. But Changbin is strong and he does not hide it, the bulge of his biceps crushing you in the hard, ungiving circle of his arms. Leather and muscle cage you in tightly, so unyielding that you cannot even squirm. Your heels dig at the ground as he hauls you away from the car. A belated scream claws its way up your throat but gets strangled in his chokehold.

Then you feel ice, so cold it burns. Your racing heart propels each freezing shard through your bloodstream.

You realize he stabbed you with a needle. It is a flickering thought, only momentarily realized, then you are plunged beneath the surface of that ice, drowned in black waters, and you think no more.

You are plunged into an oblivion so deep and so fast that you wake thinking no time passed at all.

You hear before you see. The patter of rain overhead is not unlike its tapping against the roof of the car. Groggy, you think you are still there, your arms wrapped around yourself while waiting for the worst.

Then your sense of smell creeps in, overwhelming you with damp and something metallic. A cool breeze pebbles your skin as it washes over you. It coaxes you out of your bleariness.

You blink awake, the blurry world taking gradual shape around you. It is not the world you left behind, no sign of a car or campus or coffee shop. It looks like an old warehouse or maybe a factory, but the room has been stripped to its bare bone essentials. The exposed pipes and rotting damp of the high walls account for the smell.

The breeze blows from your left where a garage door is open. You squint towards the grey light of the rainy day. You do not know how long you have been unconscious. It looks like early afternoon but your body tells you that you have been asleep for longer than a few minutes.

You try to gather your bearings. You see a harbour in the distance, past the pavement and the fence and what must be a drop to water below. Your university is not near any body of water. So you must have been unconscious long enough to transport this far. A few hours at least, but given the light maybe it has been a full day.

That is all you can deduce. You do not recognize the warehouse or the harbour.

You do recognize the man in front of you, though it takes a second. Changbin is no longer dressed like a civilian, wearing a black combat uniform and boots. His shirt covers his arms but fits like a second skin, his bulk emphasized. He is squatting on the ground a few feet from you. He holds a black mask in his hand, one that covers the lower half of his face when he swings it up. He lifts and lowers it a few times, absent-mindedly it seems. Then he realizes you are stirring and fastens it in place.

Your head is pounding. Your petulant side wants to bark a complaint, but even you know taunting this man would be beyond stupid. Changbin is not just any soldier. Miroh did not send one of his regular men. He clearly learned his lesson last time. Even without asking, you know Changbin is like Felix. He did not merely train as a soldier; he was born and moulded into it.

And, unlike Felix, he has had no reprieve from Miroh.

You come into your body, stretching your fingers. Your hands are cuffed behind your back and locked to your chair. One ankle is cuffed to the chair leg. Metal jingles as you move, testing your bonds.

You stop when Changbin approaches, your heart thumping as hot adrenaline melts the ice in your blood.

“Good morning,” Changbin says. “How did you sleep?”

Your body is still slow to respond, but you manage a decent glare. It makes him laugh.

“They told me you were funny,” he says. “That you make your father’s men look like a joke – not hard, to be fair.” He tips his head, looking at you like he is waiting. All you do is stare. “Come on,” he whines. “Say something funny.”

Your stomach turns over itself, not because Changbin is taunting you… but because you think he isn’t taunting you. He does not speak with the sarcastic intonation of your father’s men, dryly mocking your helplessness in his presence. His eyes are big and resolutely focussed, seeming to genuinely anticipate your retort. He is almost child-like with his attention.

This impression only solidifies when he sighs, morose, and crouches again.

“Do you want something?” he asks.

“Let me go?” you say.

It comes out rough but it makes him laugh behind the mask, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Aha, you are funny,” he says and slaps his knee. “Anything but that. But don’t worry your head.” You flinch from his touch, but all he does is pat your head like he is reassuring a frightened puppy. “This isn’t about you,” he says. “Well, not yet. Maybe later. First… Your father took something from us. And he won’t give it back.”

Changbin removes the mask so he can smile, one of those disarming smiles that is so at odds with the rest of him. Felix might switch demeanours depending on the circumstance, but Changbin flickers between faces from one breath to the next.

“We just need it back,” Changbin says. “Then, maybe, we’ll even the score. Maybe. Don’t worry about that yet. For now, you just need to sit. Are you thirsty?”

The distinct reverberation of gunfire comes from the front of the building. You shriek and duck your head, like that will do anything to protect you, gasping as you listen to bullets ricochet off the walls in some distant room.

When everything goes quiet, you lift your head. Your chest is heaving with each deep breath, your adrenaline bleeding out your pores so even the air around you feels like it is humming. You stare at Changbin who has not moved a muscle, still squatting and staring.

“I think we have lemonade,” he says. “You want that?”

You do not even know what to say. His sincere but stunted peculiarity reminds you so much of a teenage Felix even though Changbin looks older than both of you.

There is more gunfire. You duck your head and slam your eyes shut. Changbin does not move until it stops, his mouth open with another comment, but he silences himself when the far door opens. Then he is swift, on his feet with his mask secured. He stands at your side as he silently watches the approach of a small group of men.

You are still reeling from panic, so it takes you a second to realize what is happening.

“Felix!” the cry leaves your lips.

Five of Miroh’s men surround him, suited guards in various states of dishevelment, like they have been fighting for much longer than a few minutes. Felix is bound with his hands behind his back, a yellow bruise already forming on his chin. His own dark uniform is singed with bullet holes. His hair looks like it was slicked back, but he has sweat through some of the product, tendrils of blonde falling into his face.

Despite his state, his attention is all on you. Eyes assessing, scanning you from head to toe.

When you meet his gaze, the whole world falls away. These men, this place, none of it exists for a breath of a moment. Felix is here and that means you will survive. Everything will be fine. You have always kept each other alive. This time will be no different. You can see it in his eyes, in that oh-so subtle twinge of a smile. You can hear him without him moving his lips.

Hello, sweetheart. You’re safe.

They put him on his knees. His gaze flits to either side. You can see him calculating. Oh, he is here on purpose. He let himself be caught, you are certain, so he could find you and rescue you and—

“Target acquired,” a man says.

It takes you a moment to realize he is talking about Felix.

You look at the man then at Changbin, considering his earlier words.

Something your father took. Something they want back.

It hits you all at once. You have not been kidnapped as leverage against your father. You have been taken as bait for Felix. They don’t want you, they want him. An irreplaceable soldier your father stole from Miroh a decade ago, that he has paraded in front of him for years at galas and parties. Using him as a bodyguard for his wayward daughter and not as a soldier, not until now. Biding his time before using Felix against the house that made him.

You can see your father’s stupid machinations clicking into place. He is a perpetual child throwing a tantrum. His movements are sloppy and immature. He steals from his enemy, a weapon he does not know how to use, thinking it will keep him safe, letting it make him cocky. And now he is sitting somewhere as it all blows up in his face.

Or it would. In an ironic twist of fate, you are saving your father.

Because as far as Miroh knows, Felix is here as your bodyguard, acting on your father’s orders to retrieve you. All Miroh has to do is pluck him from the fray. And as a bonus, he has you in captivity for future leverage.

It would have been a good plan. It would have worked if Felix was an emotionless machine. If would have worked if Felix was here because of a command.

But Felix loves you.

He is here to save you.

In a quick move, Felix sweeps two men off their feet. He rolls on his back and propels himself to his feet, hands bound under him, leading with his core. He slams his head into an oncoming guard and the man stumbles back. Three out of five on the ground. Then suddenly one hand is free of the cuffs – he must have been picking at it the whole time - and he swings the dangling metal in another’s eye.

You flinch away from the violence, even while rooting for Felix. A few more thuds and you know all five men are incapacitated. You open your eyes and lift your head, watching Felix drop the handcuffs on the floor. He absently rubs his wrist, his gaze drifting from you to Changbin. His fingers freeze, his eyes narrowing as he perceives the stoic soldier at your side.

Felix stares, like he if he looks hard enough, he will see through the mask.

“You’re new,” Felix finally says.

Changbin rolls his eyes.

Changbin reels back and hurls a knife in a swift arc, right at Felix’s face. Felix is just as fast and catches the handle. He returns the throw. The knife clatters on the ground as Changbin surges forward.

These two are evenly matched. Watching them fight is terrifying and unpredictable. They dance around each other, delivering equal blows and blocking similar shots. In the end, Felix wins in one move miscalculated by his opponent. With an opening granted, Felix takes Changbin down. One, two, three hits to the head. Changbin stumbles backward, his mask falling. He is disoriented when he looks Felix, but Felix sees him with complete clarity.

You learned to read Felix a long time ago. You know all his expressions by heart, the crease of each smile memorized, the track of each tear committed to heart.

You have never seen this face, this mix of horror and bewilderment as a barely conscious Changbin slams onto the ground. Then it is Felix who missteps, tripping over his own feet as he reaches for the opponent he just threw down.

“Changbin,” he says. “You’re alive, I—”

Changbin swings at him but is too dizzy to land a hit. Felix catches the punch. He should throw one back, finish him off, but he hesitates. His brow furrows. He grabs Changbin by the neck of his shirt and yanks him close.

“Chris,” he says. “Chan. Chris. Where is he?”

Changbin laughs. It turns to choking when a dribble of blood gurgles past his mouth. He spits it at Felix then heaves a rough breath.

“Oh, fuck you, Yongbok,” he says. “’You’re new’ – didn’t even recognize me—”

“It—it’s been so long—and I thought you—”

“Yah, not all of us got to attend pretty parties these last years like you—”

“Stop it, you don’t know anything about what I’ve been doing—”

“Chris he says. First thing he says.” Changbin squirms but does not have the strength to rip away, especially with Felix gripping him so hard. He heaves another aggravated groan. “You know Chris died because of you. He’s been gone for years.”

“No,” Felix says, his voice pinched. His eyes rapidly water, his knuckles white from his death-grip.

Changbin shakes his head but slips further. Felix once more catches him when he should be ending him, sniffling hard as he gets on his knees.

“He’s not dead,” Felix says. “He can’t be dead—”

“Why don’t you ask your boss?”

As if on cue, your father’s men burst into the room. Felix looks at them in surprise even though he must have coordinated their arrival.

Changbin laughs. “I hope it was worth it, Yongbok,” he says. He uses one last burst of energy to throw himself forward, propelled away from Felix. He rolls across the ground then stumbles to his feet, running past the open garage door, into the rain, and disappearing around the corner.

Felix is too stunned to chase him. You look at Felix, on his knees and holding nothing, palms up like he expects something to appear in them. He closes his fists as your father’s men approach.

Then he slides his figurative mask in place, assuming his usual role. He kicks the literal mask discarded by Changbin, then finally looks at you.

“Get the car,” Felix says to the men. “And check the grounds for anything useful.”

The men disperse and Felix approaches you. He kneels at your side and picks at the lock of your handcuffs. You are crying before you can stop yourself, overwhelmed with everything that just transpired.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Felix whispers, looking at you with pain of his own. “It will be okay. Just a little longer.”

The handcuffs drop. He squeezes your hand in his.

“Just a little longer.”

You are several cities over, hours away from home and even further from the job your father was conducting against Miroh. Miroh was clearly trying to divert his enemy. He tried to steal Felix back while doing so.

Neither he or your father accounted for you, for Felix, for all the love between you.

You are in a small hotel room away from prying eyes and military men. You are scrubbing yourself clean in the bath and he sits on the rim of the tub, wiping your back with a cloth.

You checked in two hours ago. You spent most of that time blubbering incoherently, catching your breath even hours after freedom. You have not had a real conversation yet. Felix has been quiet, his eyes intermittently far away or so intensely focussed on you that it makes you hiccup with more tears.

You hiss when he presses his thumb to the mark on your neck, the little bite from the needle so carelessly plunged into your vein.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, smoothing with a gentle circle.

“This has been the worst week of my life,” you say. “And that’s saying something. Oh my god, and it’s only Wednesday.”

Felix laughs in spite of himself, though it is more of a breath than a sound. He drops the cloth in the water and you shiver as he caresses the bare skin of your back.

“I love you,” he says, like it is something he has always said, like it is easy to say. Like he could say it again and again.

The room feels so quiet. His voice is soft but it sounds like a shout, echoing back in this intimate space. Your breath catches. You go very still.

Then he says your name in a breathless murmur that is exhaled with more adoration than the word love itself.

“No games,” he says. “No jokes. No hidden meanings or secrets.”

“Felix,” you say. It is all you manage.

“I know,” he says weakly. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything, I just…”

His hair is wet from a quick shower, combed back neatly, more composed than the rest of him. You look up as he runs his wet fingers through it. The bruise on his jaw is darkening, a burned gold that looks incredibly painful. He shed his outer layers, is wearing a black t-shirt and black pants. He has a silver army tag, or something like it, marked with your father’s name and not his own. It’s new. Something the field agents wear. Good as a collar.

You reach out and take hold, ripping it off his neck. He looks at it dangling from your fist, as surprised as you that it broke so fast.

Maybe it really is it that easy.

His hurt jaw wobbles. He touches the bruise and looks down, away from you, head bowed as if in supplication. Worshipful. Penitent.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lighter than a whisper. “I will tell you everything. I just want to be a person for you a little longer.”

“Felix,” you say, dropping the tag on the floor. You kneel in the bath and reach for him with your wet hands. He does not lift his head when a silent sob wracks his body. His shoulders shake when you touch him. “You have always been a person to me.”

“I know,” he says, voice breaking. “I know, sweetheart. I owe you so much—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“I owe you everything.”

He looks at you then, his dark eyes wet with tears, his expression serious. He breathes a shaky exhale then leans away, grabbing a towel.

“Come here,” he says, and stands.

Moments later, you are standing on the floor, wrapped in the towel in his arms. He bundles you tightly and you rest your head on his shoulder, safe and secure with his strong hold around you.

“I love you,” he says, his wet cheek pressed to yours. “Even if you hate me, even if you don’t, even if you can never say it back, I love you and all the life you have in you.”

“I’m a mess,” you say, trying to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“You’re alive. I don’t think anyone understands better than you, what it means to have a life,” he says. “The way your life fills you, the way you hold onto it no matter how many times someone tried to take it away.”

You are hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed and amorous and teary all at once. Then he lifts you up and turns around, perching you on the counter. You wriggle your arms free, tucking the towel beneath them. You steady your breathing as he picks up a cloth to wipe the smudged vestiges of make-up off your cheek.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he says. “I’ve always been so scared. I hide it, yeah? But it’s there. Miroh, your father, everything about them… It was like living in a nightmare. They were bigger than life. They controlled dangerous people. I couldn’t imagine anyone standing up to them.” He smiles now, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. “Then you burst into the room and started a fight with one of them. I was shocked. I thought, is this girl crazy? What have I gotten into?”

“That girl was crazy,” you say, laughing.

He laughs too, but shakes his head. “She was the only sane one,” he says. “God. You had more passion in your little finger than I had ever felt in my whole body my whole life. And I thought… I will never feel that much emotion. I knew it was too late for me. I wasn’t living for myself and I was fine with that. I couldn’t be saved.” His eyes are teary again. He takes your hand and looks down at it. “You took my hand. Even in your anger, even in your everything, you saw something… You touched me once and it was like life rushed into me. And I hated myself everyday after that because I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t what you needed. I could take your beatings but I couldn’t save you because I was a scared coward and you were stuck with me—”

“Shh, stop that,” you say. You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the pieces he rucked up.

He wipes his cheeks. He plants his hands on the counter, on either side of you. His eyes are closed when he takes a deep breath.

“Miroh couldn’t kill your grandfather,” Felix says. “He tried and he failed. Your grandfather was willing to sacrifice everything for himself. Your mother died in his place. You and me were on opposite sides of the world, both just babies. You never knew your mother. I never knew my parents. Miroh decided he needed a new generation of soldiers. There were a few of us, all over the world. When we were old enough to speak and run and fight, he recruited the best. I was one of the best. So was Changbin.”

“And Chris,” you say, remembering the exchange in the warehouse.

Felix’s face scrunches in pain. He nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “We travelled together. We trained together. We were like brothers.”

“What happened?” you ask. You lay a hand on his chest and he takes it, holding it there.

“I was stupid,” Felix says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I believed Miroh. I thought… there are bad guys out there, simple as that. If we get rid of them, then we won’t have to be scared anymore, yeah? They wouldn’t have to hurt us if we just got rid of the bad guy. But it wasn’t that easy. I killed your grandfather and it didn’t end anything. Chris was right. Because he always knew. He said it wasn’t right, what Miroh was doing. Chris could have been the best if he could let go of who he was, and just be what he was supposed to be… but he didn’t. I… I felt like I… I couldn’t afford to be that way… If I wasn’t the best, I was nothing. If I couldn’t kill, I was going to be killed. And by the time I realized he was right, it was too late.”

He finally meets your gaze, squeezing your hand in his.

“I almost died on a job and Chris saved my life. He wasn’t supposed to. In Miroh’s order, if something happens to a soldier, you leave them behind. You don’t waste resources on the weak. Chris disobeyed orders and all his training to save me. I told him I wouldn’t have done the same and he said I know, that’s not why I’m doing it. It’s just the right thing, Felix. I thought, how can someone like this even exist, after everything he’s seen and done, how does he still try to find the good? I didn’t know if he was stupid or smart. Then a commander found out what he did and they took him out of our order for re-training. I still saw him but we couldn’t talk. He had so much potential and the organization didn’t want to throw it away. They tried to break him. It wasn’t working. It broke me instead. I realized I had to get us out or die trying.”

He looks at you and says, “You get it, don’t you? The way Jisung saved you. The way he was your friend. The way he was just there. That was Chris for me, yeah?” His voice is rife with desperation, like he needs you to understand this more than anything else.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling that very heartache all over again. “I do. I get it, Felix.”

“Then you know,” he says, voice breaking, “how I felt when I let him down. I let everyone down. I fucked up a job, trying to undermine Miroh. I thought I could outsmart him but I didn’t. It just opened a door for your father to get in. There was a stupid skirmish over a politician in Miroh’s pocket. Your dad was trying to buy him out and it ended in a fight. Three of our best men dead. Including Changbin, I thought. Just someone else I let down. I was taken alive. I knew if I went back to Miroh, I was dead. If I ran off on my own, Chris would never escape, and they would break him eventually, or kill him trying. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take Miroh on my own. So I made a deal with your father.”

And what I get is a life worth more than mine.

You remember those words. Felix once spoke them in an emotional moment, lost to his memories. You never knew what he meant. You realize now he meant Chris, the friend he left behind, the friend he sold himself to save.

“You gave up your life to my father,” you say, “and in return—”

“He would rescue Chris,” Felix says. “It was a win for us both, yeah. Take out Miroh, steal his assets. My friend gets his freedom. Your father gets a soldier. I was willing to give up my life. I figured I never had one. I wouldn’t miss it. All I knew was how to be a soldier. I didn’t even know how to want something else. But then you… You.”

“Felix,” you say, overwhelmed with his confession and the depth of his feeling.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I let you down.”

“What? How?” You touch his face, cupping his chin in both hands. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t save you,” he says, voice rasping and light again, speaking above a sob. “At first because I couldn’t leave, not until we rescued Chris. And there was never an opportunity. I waited years. Years. And by then I had to keep waiting, because I couldn’t have wasted all that time for nothing. I had to save him. I had to save someone. Or else I failed everyone. It had to mean something. I couldn’t—”

“Felix,” you say. “It was an impossible situation. We were kids for half of it. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I do,” he says, barely more than a breath, a faint whisper against your skin. “I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t do enough.”

“We have no way of knowing what else could have happened,” you say. “We did our best. And now—”

You cut yourself off. And now? What happens next? You heard their conversation in that warehouse. You know why Felix looked so torn apart.

“Chris,” you say. “Is he…?” Dead. “Was Changbin telling the truth?”

“I don’t know,” Felix says.

Dead. For years. Because of Felix. Because of your father.

It does not take much to piece together the implications. Your father is a cowardly, underhanded schemer. He poisons teenagers and beats his daughter and hides in his mansion except when he’s lashing out for attention. He put Felix under contract, but the only guarantee of servitude was his honour and one stipulation. Honour would mean little to your father. But a person, that he could leverage. That he could calculate and control. So long as he could dangle Chris over Felix’s head, then Felix would be bound to him.

And the best way to guarantee he would never have to fulfill his end of the bargain, the best way to guarantee Chris would never escape, would be to kill Chris himself and never tell Felix.

You see it written all over Felix’s face, the horror of this very plausible idea. That in his effort to save Chris, he actually got him killed.

There is a long moment of quiet. It is a very empty silence. There is no way to confirm if Chris is truly dead, and so Felix cannot truly mourn him. There is also no way to prove he is alive, so he cannot take any action.

You hold his hand. It is all you can do right now. You look at where your palms touch, where your fingers lace. The caress of his skin against yours never fails to touch your heart. Even this simple touch warms you. It affects him too, because he exhales and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

You want to comfort him but your shiver betrays you. The heat from the bath is diffusing and you are in nothing but a towel. Felix laughs and shakes his head, withdrawing.

“Sorry,” he says. “Let’s, uhh, get you dressed first.”

“Or at least under some covers.”

“Someone could come knocking,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a jut of your chin. “And?”

He stares back at you. This silence is not so empty, a heady and contemplative regard as he glances at your lips then the rest of you. Then he sweeps you into his arms and carries you into the room.

You kiss his cheek, just above his bruise. You are not sure if he winces from the pain or the affection.

The moment your head touches a pillow, you feel your eyelids drooping. Exhaustion hits you instantaneously. You groan and snuggle under the covers, quite convinced this plain hotel bed is the comfiest bed in the world.

Felix hovers at the bedside, folding your towel. You look back at him with sleepy eyes. It is early evening but he must be as tired as you, from the physical exertion if not the emotional one.

“Aren’t you sleepy, baby?” you ask.

He drops the towel and has to fold it again. It is messier the second time, then slides off the dresser into a lump on the floor. He ignores it, approaching the bed. You pull back the cover in offering.

You think he strips down to his boxers, but you are fast asleep before he even unzips. You stir a little when he climbs in the bed, but his presence is so comforting that it sends you right back to sleep. It is the most restful sleep you have had in a while. But, predictably, falling asleep in the early evening means you wake up in the dead of the night, bright-eyed.

The room is dark. The clock reads 2:17 AM, blinking in red, the only light in the room other than a blue wash of moonlight pouring through the translucent curtains.

Felix is curled up behind you, an arm under his head and the other over your hip. When you wake, he follows but slowly, shifting and grumbling. He does not usually sleep so deeply. It is a testament to the day.

You sidle up to him, your back to his front. He is in his boxers and nothing else, bare skin against yours as he hauls you up against him. You lay your hand over his, resting it on your stomach then on your breast. It is not especially flirtatious, merely intimate. He touches you and you sigh contently, too awake to lose yourself but enjoying the comfort nonetheless.

He exhales. It sounds a little ragged. You look over your shoulder, at his dishevelled bed hair and dark freckles, the bow mouth you so missed, the tenderness in those dark eyes when he gazes back at you.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Hmm? For what?” You roll onto your back to look at him better.

He scrubs a hand down his face then pushes back some unruly hair. “I think, um.” He looks up at nothing. “A part of me always thought a day would come when you would hate me for real. I’m, uhh, a little… I guess I just… was more prepared to be hated than, um, cared about, after everything.”

You lean over him, propping yourself on one arm. He meets your serious gaze, licking his lips under the intensity of your stare.

“Do you see me that way?” you ask. “That I would be that unforgiving and fickle?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s not how I see you, it’s… myself.”

“Well, I don’t want you to see yourself that way either,” you say. “It offends me.” You say this was a dramatic air, making a point of shoving your nose in the air.

It makes him laugh, a real smile pulling at his lips. You swear it brightens the room.

“Does it?” he says. “I’m very sorry. I’ll have to make it up to you.” He reaches for your face, strokes his knuckles over your cheek, but you pull away.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, in the same playful tone as him.

“Oh?” he asks, chasing, stroking your other cheek.

“Yes,” you say. You catch his hand and lower it. When you speak again, it is sincerely, without any joke or artifice or double-entendre. “I don’t just care about you, Felix,” you say. “I love you. And you don’t need to thank me or pay me back. You just need to believe it.”

He blinks up at you, surprise written all over his face. You feel flushed with heat even though the admission is obvious. Saying it out loud, truly and honestly, makes your heart flutter anyway. Love and want tangle together in a knot inside you, making you feel soft and desirous at once.

His lips part with a breath as he stares at you. You chase those lips, leaning down and sealing his mouth in a kiss. It takes only a second for him to kiss you back, cupping your cheek and parting your lips with a swipe of his tongue. His bruise must not hurt too badly, or maybe he is just ignoring the pain, but you are careful with your light kisses despite his attempt at more.

You always happily concede to his more dominant guidance. This time it is a little different. You are telling him something with your kisses and you want him to hear it, without any games or distractions. So you take both his wrists and push his hands into the bed, at the same time swinging on top of him. He looks surprised a second time, looking at where you press his hands into the sheets.

He could easily buck you off, but he lets you kiss him like that. You kiss his cheek and under his jaw, avoiding the bruise, then down his neck. His hips lift under yours, rolling against you to get hard. You are already wet and naked, making him moan, a low, dark sound as you grind your softest parts against the hardening line in his boxers.

It makes you want to skip right to it, but you are determined. You kiss down his chest and he laughs when your tongue swipes his nipple, evidently a little ticklish. You smile and keep going, until your lips hover above the hard bulge in his boxers. You kiss him through the material then tug it down. He shuffles quickly, ripping them off and tossing them aside. Then his hand is on the back of your neck as you take him in your mouth.

The hotel room affords some privacy. He makes a little more noise than usual. Or maybe he truly does not care anymore.

Yes, you think, loving at him with your mouth and hands, let yourself go.

He must be getting close because he squeezes the back of your neck and lets out a groan. “Slow down,” he says. “Please. It just—”

“Feels good?” you ask, a little cheekily, but he answers earnestly, with a nod and shaky exhale. “Mmm, okay,” you say. “Tell me what you want.”

This gives him momentary pause. Then he grips your neck more possessively and guides you up.

You follow his direction, lifting your head until your pretty raw lips are hovering just inches from his.

“Get back on top me,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“Oh. Well.” He has said far dirtier things in the past, but usually in the context of your role-play, where you are the worst versions of yourselves, the real you just laughing under it. It is a little different for the real him to so blatantly state his desire.

It leaves you just as weak in the knees. It is a miracle you manage to swing a leg over him, but you get there. He helps line you up, then he holds your hips and slides you right down until he is fully inside you. It is a lot all at once, especially after time apart. You did not have many opportunities for sex before that either. But you are so wet, despite the sharp burn, it is a smooth fit, and you adjust quickly, mostly because he wastes no time rolling his hips up into you.

“Oh,” you say, hands on his shoulders and mouth falling open.

“That’s it,” he says, taking complete control even though you are on top, holding your hips, guiding you to match his rhythm. “Could – uh, yeah – could have you on your knees, begging for it, without doing anything. So easy for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you say, gasping. “Just for you.”

“Just for me,” he says. He pushes himself upright, wrapping an arm around you and pushing your face into his shoulder. He holds you there, fingers stroking the nape of your neck as he fucks you, drawing all those soft, whimpering sounds of you. “That’s it,” he says. “That’s my girl. Just for me. Hold onto me. I’m gonna come. Spread your legs, your pussy can take it. Good girl. Just like that.”

You are wrapped tightly around him, clinging to him as he comes as promised, deep and hard inside you while you tremble and sigh in his arms. Then he lifts your head to kiss you, a quick peck before he presses your foreheads together to just breathe.

“Can you…” Your voice comes softly. “Can you maybe stay inside me, just another minute.”

“Fucking… fuck,” he says, making you laugh. He smiles too. “Yes. I can do that.”

He keeps you in his arms as he lays back. You lay against him, his heart pounding against your chest. You stay like that for a while, almost drifting to sleep when he slides his hand up your spine, reawakening every sensitive nerve in your body.

He says your name, that loving murmur of a sound. You lift your head to look at him. His gaze darts to your lips then back to your eyes.

“I wouldn’t trade places with any of them,” he says. “I want to be your bodyguard. I want to set you free. I want to keep you safe until the day I die.”

“On a few conditions,” you say. “The first, that you cannot die for a very long time. The second, I will only be free when you are. And finally, you can be my bodyguard, but only if I’m your bodyguard too.”

He smiles, his eyes bright and his cheeks dimpled. His nose nudges yours.

“All right,” he says. “Consider it a promise.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 2 months

Text

This Was A Mistake

Warnings: language, references to cheating

Jack's phone danced on the nightstand as it vibrated, the screen illuminated with a picture he and Veronica took on the first day of their honeymoon, their private bungalow in the Maldives in the background. They looked happy, but Jack knew the capture of that moment in time was deceptive because they argued the entire time about the stupidest things. The trip was over two months ago, but Jack vividly remembered only making it 24 hours before he tried to call you. You didn't answer, out of principle, and he didn't dare try to call you again until he was back in Louisville.

The backlight flooded the otherwise pitchback bedroom, blinding Jack in the face as he slept. He scrunched his eyes closed as he halfheartedly knocked the phone to the ground, letting the call go to voicemail. He got a second of reprieve as the room went silent, and he retreated back to the warmth next to him, his breaths quickly becoming shallow as he went back to sleep.

The vibrations against the hardwood were even louder as his phone rung for a second time. He let a sharp breath out of his nostrils before he opened his eyes slowly. His jaw flexed and his body stiffened as he sat up, gingerly moving to sit at the edge of the bed. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust as he looked at his phone on the floor. He didn't want to answer it, he didn't want to hear her voice, he didn't even want to think about her right now, but his karma was unrelenting.

"Hello." He cleared his voice, groggy and deep from sleep.

"Hi, baby! Did I wake you up?". He could hear the smile in her voice, and that pissed him off. He made out the sound of voices in the background. "Yeah, but its okay. How's London?" It was the middle of the day there, she'd be at one of her work conferences now.

"Oh Jack, it couldn't be going better. The only thing that could make it perfect is if you were here with me. I miss you." His stomach turned as she spoke, his breath hitching in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, surely divine intervention.

"You still there, J?" Jack raked a hand through his mess curls, scratching at the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just tired." That was the truth. He learned a while back that it was better not to say anything at all, then to pile up the lies he told her.

"Okay, well," he could hear the disappointment in her voice, but all he wanted to do was to hang up this call and go back to bed, "I'll let you get some sleep. Call me when you wake up?"

He hesitated to commit to even the smallest task. "I've gotta meet Urban at the studio in a couple hours, I don't know if I'll get a chance to call you. The label's pressing me to get this song done." That was a lie, but he knew she wouldn't question his work.

"I understand. Maybe tonight then, I'll stay up late for you." Jack balled up his fist, biting at his bottom lip to stifle a curse. "I just said that I've gotta work. What don't you understand about that?" He could feel his neck grow hot, anger striking every nerve ending in his body simultaneously.

"I wasn't trying to-", she was on the verge of tears, her voice tight and quiet.

"I'll call you when I get the chance." His words like venom; he was always so quick to strike with her and he didn't know why.

"Yes", she responded at a whisper. Jack let the silence settle between them as he composed himself, letting out a deep sigh. He wiped at his eyes frantically, hoping he'd wake up from this nightmare. "I love you Jack."

"I-", he didn't want to end the call with another lie. "Be safe, okay?" He hung up the phone before he heard another word, turning it off before he tossed it on the nightstand. He hung his head in his hands as he tried to catch his breath, his heart beating out of his chest.

A shiver traveled down his spine as he felt your touch on his back.

"Was that her?"

He didn't bother answering; you both knew the answer. You snuck your hand underneath his tank, your fingers traveling to wrap around his side, feeling each defined oblique muscle. "We're not doing anything wrong." He let out a humorless breath, shaking off your touch. "We both know that's not true", he threw over his shoulder, catching a glance at your naked form peaking from underneath the sheets.

You knew he was right and you didn't care one fucking bit. You knew that the two of you were meant to be together.

"Come back to bed, Jack. Come back to me."

Jack used his thumb to swipe at his wedding band. He let Veronica pick whatever she wanted; he couldn't be bothered to spend any more time thinking about his commitment to her then he had to. The metal began to feel hot to the touch, and he started to panic as he felt a burning sensation against his skin.

He slipped the ring off of his finger, and tucked it under a book in his nightstand. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

"Everything okay, Jack?" Your voice was just above a whisper but it still startled him.

"Yeah, everything's fine." He answered as he laid back down in his spot, pulling you in tightly to his chest.

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#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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sleepingdeath-light · 7 months

Text

innocent s/o hcs ; grelle

requested by ; anonymous (04/09/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; grelle sutcliff

outline ; “i dont remember if i already requested this but may I request sfw and nsfw hcs (or scenario) of grell with an innocent s/o (preferably fem) pls? have a nice day/night :]”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

now let’s make one thing clear before anything else: grelle sutcliffe is absolutely crazy about you and loves every little thing about you from your ‘flaws’ to your strengths — including your innocence, even if it can leave her a bit frustrated at times when the exact motivations behind her dramatics goes a bit over your head and you just don’t get what she’s practically begging for (granted, in a very roundabout way)

she’s basically always hanging off of you or touching you in some way (hand holding, holding your arm, hugging you from behind, cuddling into your side, resting her head on your shoulder, fake fainting into your arms, kissing you anywhere and everywhere etc.) — and once you’ve established that you’re comfortable with it, not all of her touches are innocent in intention and a great many are intentionally very flirty and suggestive with a goal of getting you to reciprocate her gestures in kind

so having you not understand her intentions or miss them so distinctly that you’re just smiling and earnestly complimenting her is both heartwarming and frustrating to her — yes she’d much rather you were all over her like she is you, but she also loves you for your innocent streak so she can’t even bring herself to complain much (not beyond an overly dramatic sigh before she corrects her actions to become much more blatant so you have that ‘oh? oh.’ moment and give her what she wants)

she’s fiercely protective over you, even more so than she would be otherwise, because of your innocence and she’s been known to threaten or ‘dispatch’ anyone who might pose the slightest threat to your well-being and/or your innocence — including a very emotional confrontation with her once dear ‘bassy’ when he tried to flirt with you, and the murders of a few dozen humans for trying to harm you

she finds a great deal of solace in your relationship and in you — you are her island, her reprieve, where she can be herself without experiencing that same darkness of judgement and cruelty and sin that took her life the first time around (your innocence makes you kinder than most, easier to love than most, and if she wasn’t already dead then she knows that she’d die for you if it meant keeping you safe — and that thought, that level of attachment, no longer scares her like it used to)

the pet names she uses with you are also changed by your nature and how different you are to her because of it — of course she still calls you ‘darling’, but she’s also been known to use pet names like ‘angel’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘my heart’ when she’s feeling especially dramatic

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #black butler fluff #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji fluff #kuroshitsuji x reader #grell sutcliff x reader #grelle sutcliff fluff #grelle sutcliff x reader #grell sutcliff fluff

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years

Text

You Are My Queen Now | Part 6

Word Count: 17.6k (i fucking hate myself)

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: extremely unhealthy and codependant relationship dynamics, mentions of past noncon, graphic description of killing an animal, fucked up family relationships, hints at forced impregnation, possible poor editing lmao

The first night you spent at Taehyun’s castle by the sea was harrowing.

No sooner had you gotten to the castle safely than Taehyun had abandoned you in your new quarters under the pretense of giving you space to grief and process everything. You didn’t need space. You needed compassion and kindness, not being left alone so soon after betraying Beomgyu and witnessing such frightful actions done in cold blood.

Your newfound home was the perfect reflection of your anguished mental state, with its dark recesses and chilling winds that so resembled the cries of your loved one as it billowed through the cracks in the foundation.

You were left to wonder what became of Beomgyu and if he got home safely? How is he feeling right now? What about the families of those men, were they cursing your name to the heavens right now?

It was a miserable night with not a moment of reprieve from your own thoughts.

Thankfully, the horror and grief didn’t cloud your days for long, only your nights. Once the light of day shone through your desolate mind, you got the chance to calm down and rationalize, and understand that Taehyun's actions that night were not done in malice.

The guards? It was your own stupid naivety for thinking you could escape from the literal prince without any bloodshed.

Assaulting Beomgyu? To Taehyun, Beomgyu is just your captor and rapist. He holds no affinity to the prince and he doesn't share your deep sentiments towards him.

Threatening his own men? He was just protecting your honor in a way Beomgyu never could. You've been so bothered by being viewed as the whore. Well, here is a man who will quickly and ruthlessly put an end to that. How can you complain?

Honestly, he has done nothing but rescue and protect you. You can't fault him for it. You're just a stupid girl who thinks these things can be accomplished without anyone getting hurt.

You can fault him for one thing however, and that is his extreme lack of emotional support and compassion. Not only did he not stay by your side that night, but neither did he any night after that. No, he leaves you to contend with your thoughts because, as he claims, he doesn't wish to give anyone the chance to make any further comments about your honor if he were to stay overnight in your chambers. In any other situation you would find it noble, but right now it just leaves you alone and grieving in foreign place.

Still, it might’ve been understandable enough if he made up for it during the day, but you don’t get the chance to see the lord of the castle nearly as much as you thought you would. Unlike Beomgyu, who is relegated to the role of the spare in his household and doesn’t have much that he needs to attend to due to his parents’ and older brother’s presence, Taehyun is the sole ruler of his land and all the responsibility falls on him alone. So naturally, he’s not free to see you often, but even when he is, things are far from perfect.

Now that you’re here, he has a lot of expectations for you and you can sense that you’re not meeting those as much as he had hope you would, so even the short amount of time you get to spend together is spent under a lot of tension before he has to leave you alone again to feel even worse about yourself and the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

Well, that’s not entirely true. You can't say you're completely alone. You do have the company of Taehyun's little brother, Kai.

Kai had approached you the morning after you arrived with the curious eagerness of a large puppy.

"So you're the lady my brother is going to make us go to war over?"

His words had caused your face to fall as you figured he would be another one of those nobles who were bothered by your mere presence in their lives. "Oh…"

"Oh no, I meant that as a joke!" He had hurried to say, cringing at how he had come across, his voice raised in panic. "I just meant…" He started but then shook his head and extended his hand to you, giving you an apologetic smile. "Let me start over. Hello, I'm Kai, Taehyun's little brother."

You took his hand gratefully, smiling at how flustered he’d gotten. "Hello, Kai. Nice to meet you."

"It's so nice to finally meet you too. Taehyun has told me so much about you."

"He did?" You had asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Uh, well not really." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "You know how he is. I just gathered little bits of information here and there from him before he'd tell me to fuck off. But it was all good things!"

"What kind of good things?" You asked genuinely, wondering why Taehyun even chose to help you. He’d told you that it was because he saw potential in you, but you don’t know if you can believe that.

But Kai’s words had fallen in line with that same assertion. "He said that he really thinks you could be the woman who could rule beside him."

Your smile turns unsure. “I don’t know if he still thinks that anymore. I wasn’t exactly the picture of a strong woman yesterday. I think maybe that's why he's been avoiding me. He's disappointed."

"Oh, no, no. Taehyun would never give up on someone that easily. He hasn't given up on me and I've been disappointing him my whole life." He declares proudly, making you burst out laughing despite yourself. "He's going to help you."

"You're cute." You grinned, finding the boy quite endearing, even more so when he blushes.

“Thank you.”

Following that day. Kai became your companion in this strange place, and honestly, you couldn’t have asked for a better one.

Well, you would've preferred if the man who brought you here would've actually paid attention to you, but Kai will do.

That’s not to say that Taehyun doesn’t treat you well, he does, albeit a bit awkwardly. You've come to know through Kai that he's never courted another woman before. That suave persona he showed you before was skin deep. He only knew how to be charming at a surface level but, lacking the experience and preferring to focus on other things, it quickly fell apart. And it becomes all the worse when he’s trying to teach you something. Then all the charm is gone and you’re just left with a strict military man. The problem is you’re not a soldier.

Maybe your expectations were also too high because Beomgyu was so outwardly expressive towards you. Maybe this is what normal people act like when they're in love.

Are you in love? If love is what you had with Beomgyu then no, you’re decidedly not. Taehyun is like a closed book to you. How can you read a man you haven't known your entire life and how can you, in turn, love him?

It's not like you can ask him either. He expects you to be strong like you said you would be. You can't go and ask him if he loves you like some kind of vapid, foolish little girl. That's not what strong women do.

So you grin and bear, your interactions with him somehow becoming more strained as time goes on. But Kai is as good a replacement as any. He's sweet, funny and kind, and a massive dork. He introduces you to his own closest friend, Jaeyun, who happens to be your archery teacher.

Seeing how weak you are, Taehyun had decided to make you switch from a longbow to a crossbow. It's much easier to draw as it doesn’t rely on your physical strength so you’re left to focus on actually practicing your aim.

You're not particularly gifted with it, nor have you had any training in anything similar to it before, so you need to spend countless hours practicing it, and Taehyun isn’t available to oversee your training or help out most of the time. Therefore, you’re left to train with Jaeyun, and Kai who likes to hang around you two.

You sort of prefer it that way anyway so you can hone your skill without suffering under the weight of Taehyun’s expectations, and maybe later on you can show him what you’ve picked up and he might actually give you a genuine smile.

God, that’s sad, isn’t it? Working so hard just so the aloof lord would show you the slightest hint of approval. You never needed to earn Beomgyu’s approval. He loved you as you are. You’re the one who wanted more than he could possibly give you, and now you’ve fallen harder than ever in your effort to chase that distant dream.

This castle–and yes, it is a proper castle unlike Beomgyu’s cushioned palace–is ancient and sturdy, or as you prefer to describe it–old and ugly. It’s the complete antithesis to the flowery palace of the royals. The food here is terrible–you don’t even like seafood–and the man of the house is never around and when he is, he treats you like a disappointed parent. How did you go from living a plushy life with a man who adores the ground you walk on to this?

Oh yeah, because you got it into your head that you could have not only money and power, but dignity and respect too. Well, now that you see what you have to go through in order to obtain all of that, you’re not sure you want it anymore. You could’ve been in Beomgyu’s arms right now, his soothing, deep vibrato voice reading you your favorite book as you pass the afternoon in sleepy bliss, but instead you’re here, in a filthy practice range, shooting at straw men.

You take in a deep breath and huff it all out in one go, then you aim your crossbow at the target and close one eye before you release the string. The arrow flies at the target, and actually hits it.

You’re better at this now because for one, you had more time to practice, and two, it's much easier to wield a crossbow than the longbow Beomgyu made you try, and you can’t help but wonder if that was a deliberate choice on his part just so you'd fail and not ask to train again.

"Nice shot." Jaeyun praises, but you’re in too restless a mood to humor his attempt at making you feel good.

"Don't lie."

He gives you an innocent look. "What? You really improved."

"Yeah, but not enough for Taehyun." You mutter. Taehyun has made it clear that, while he understands you're not just going to be the woman he wants right away, he expects you to get your shit together and show him you can be.

“He can be a bit scary, right?” Kai supplies sympathetically.

“A bit? Man gives me the creeps.” Jaeyun pipes in with a laugh and points the arrow he’s holding in his hand at you, “It’s not too late to escape, you know?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Kai rolls his eyes, “You could be good for him. Like the princess and the beast.” He adds the last part excitedly, reminding you of your own younger self getting excited at fairytales.

“Been there, done that. Not looking to do that anymore.” You say bitterly, and an awkward silence settles over everyone.

You start stressing over having made things weird, but then Jaeyun speaks up. "So what was the prince like?"

Kai shoots him a glare but he just shrugs. You bark out a laugh that stops just as abruptly as it had begun.

"He was… everything. He was kind and loving and generous." You recall sadly, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

"So why would you leave him to live in this dark and damp castle?" Jaeyun presses, all but oblivious to Kai’s unsubtle glares.

"I wanted to have control over my own life.” You sigh, “He gave me all the material things and all the love I could ever ask for and, in turn, he wanted to have me all to himself while he got married to another woman. He did terrible things in order to keep me by his side. He was controlling my life like a puppet master and I never even saw it until Taehyun came along. I needed to take back my life from him and so I escaped.”

"Having control over your life is not as great as you think it is.” Jaeyun comments dismissively. “Women might think it's freeing and empowering but it isn’t. All it does is add responsibility to you and stress you out. You think as a man, I’m in charge of my own life? No, I have to slave away in this job in order to maintain my position and provide a good life for my wife, and I don’t even get much doing it because lord righteous won't pay us like the rest of the lords because 'rulers shouldn't live comfortably while the poor people starve'.” Jaeyun complains, “You say this prince gave you everything you ever asked for and he loved you too on top of it? I'd kill to have been in your shoes, just get pampered and coddled and have to do nothing?"

"I didn't have to do nothing." You hiss, but Jaeyun doesn’t take the hint.

"So you let him between your legs every once in a while, there are worse fates than that." He shrugs. You know he doesn't know about Beomgyu forcing himself on you but it is still insensitive to say that considering he very well knows what the reputation of a woman living like that would be.

What hurts even more is that he’s yet another person who seems to think that you should have just accepted being Beomgyu’s whore and that you’re being sensitive over nothing. Once again, you feel stupid and weak. You couldn’t handle Beomgyu and you can’t handle Taehyun. Maybe you don’t deserve either.

Angrily throwing your crossbow on a nearby table, you walk away without a word. That’s all you can do. In the background you can hear the sound of a smack.

“Idiot!”

"What? It’s true."

You wish that is the end of it but then you hear footsteps running after you, and you brace yourself for a conversation you really don't have the energy for right now.

“Hey, wait up!” Kai shouts, his long legs helping him catch up quickly with you. “I’m sorry–”

You spin around on your heel, and snarl at Kai a little too harshly, “Not now, Kai. I just want to be left alone.”

“I’ll do that, I promise, but I just wanted to apologize on his behalf. He can be thoughtless sometimes but he doesn’t mean to be an asshole.”

“It’s okay. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m just a stupid girl who doesn’t know how good she had it.”

“No! If the prince was making you do things you didn’t want to do then you have every right to leave him. Not everything that looks good is actually good. I’m sure you had your reasons.” Kai protests vehemently, and something about what he said piques your curiosity.

So Taehyun didn’t tell even Kai about what Beomgyu did to you? He kept the truth about your shame to himself and didn’t tell even his own brother.

In that moment, your respect and gratitude towards Taehyun returned twofold. He is truly serious about giving you the respect you’ve always wanted.

The smile that you give Kai isn’t feigned. "Thank you for being one of only two people who understand.”

______________________________

‘Comparison is the thief of joy’ goes the old adage that repeats in your mind every day. You’ve never felt the truth of it more than you do now. Maybe if you weren’t so preoccupied with comparing Taehyun to Beomgyu, you wouldn’t feel like your life now is so lacking. Maybe you’d appreciate what you’ve gained instead of missing what you no longer have. But it’s hard to refrain from that affliction when you are used to a certain way of living and a certain kind of relationship for so long. Maybe you’d have an easier time kicking the habit if Beomgyu doesn’t make sure to remind you of what you’re missing with his constant barrage of letters that, like a fool, you subject yourself to every single time.

And maybe Beomgyu had the right idea back when he’d tried to prevent any contact between you and Taehyun because, unlike the prince, Taehyun doesn’t make any attempt to intercept the letters Beomgyu sends, telling you that if you are to choose him, he wants you to do it out of your own free will. It’s a lovely sentiment from the otherwise reserved man, but the resulting reality of Beomgyu having this relatively unrestricted way of contacting you messes with your already vulnerable emotional state.

Beomgyu’s letters are a beast of their own. Each one unlike the one before it, but all reeking of his abysmal state of mind, and you can’t help but worry for him. He speaks to you of his broken heart, saying how he can't believe you would hurt him this bad. Saying he'll die for you, he'll kill for you.

My princess, every day that passes me by without you by my side is simple agony. Are you satisfied now that you’ve gotten your revenge on me?

Other times he's worried about you.

I fear for you. Is he hurting you?

And other times he's jealous.

Does he feel as good as I do? Does he kiss you like I do?

Yet other times he lets his fury take over, telling you to come home or else, threatening that he’ll attack Taehyun’s castle to kill him and bring you back.

You're mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. No one else can have you. Do you know how insane you're driving me? Come back before I really do something crazy.

You relay those last ones to Taehyun who reassures you that the king won’t let Beomgyu do such a thing. And when you suggest that Beomgyu might just kill his father, Taehyun dismisses you by stating that such an action would result in his execution–a fact that only makes you more anxious. You don’t want him to condemn himself because of you. You want him to give up on you and be happy with his wife.

No, that’s a lie. You wish that’s how you felt but just the idea of it has your heart threatening to quit on you. You don’t want him to be happy without you. You don’t want him to stop loving you, because you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving him.

You don’t tell Taehyun this but each letter, despite how frantic or threatening or angry it is, acts like a balm to your grieving heart, a reassurance that he’s in the same boat as you. Taehyun doesn’t need to know that. Even Beomgyu doesn’t need to know that. It’s your own sinful secret to keep as you dive into his latest letter to you.

This time, it’s a poem, and you clutch it close to your heart as your eyes eagerly pick the letters off the page.

My princess I have known you your whole life I have cared for you for every bit of it And I have loved you for always

From our shared naive childhood Through the clumsy teens fumbling through puberty All the way to our flourishing twenties When your beauty reached such a peak that men fell at your feet And I was no different from those men

You were my light in the darkest of places My hope when I feared that I had nowhere and no one else to turn to You never left my side and I never planned on leaving yours You were the only woman — the only person — who was ever on my mind The only one who I wanted for all of eternity

When I told you of my feelings and you confessed your own I thought we could finally be happy But I saw my hopes shatter in the reflection of your tears As you told me how you could never be mine

I found myself crushed And feeling as if I’d lost my reason for living You were my everything And I thought I was yours as well

I wanted to be the kind of man you wish I was The one who could put put his feelings to the side and let you go Let you find happiness in someone else But how could I do that when I know we were meant to be?

That night you tried to leave me You hurt me so terribly I thought I might die But I hurt you too My heart wrenched at the sight of your tears and the sound of your soft sobs My hands itched to reach out and wipe away your tears Along with the rest of your sorrow But I couldn’t Because it was me who was making you cry

I watched you shy away from me with a gaping hole in my heart I cried myself to sleep wondering how I could make it up to you But the damage I did was too terrible for you, my sweet And so you left me for him

But I still think of you I think of the smile on your face The flush on your cheeks And the glimmer in your eyes And I think of how they’re for him now I cannot bear it all

I cannot bear the thought of never again seeing your blinding smile Hear your healing laugh Touch your soft skin The notion of never basking in your presence again Frightens me to no end

I am willing to sacrifice everything for you My money, my power, even my family With the hope that we could meet again And be together then

But if all my efforts turn out to be in vain If we’re not destined to be with each other in this lifetime And I must suffer through the agony of not having you as my beloved Then let me suffer But fear not

I promise to care for you in this life and every other one I promise to love you Because even when I’m dead, darling My soul would still be yours

Would you still be mine?

Your hands shake as you finish reading, your tears, the most familiar companion you know now, fall onto the letter to join smudge marks that were already there when you first opened it. You know all too well how Beomgyu felt writing this letter because you feel it too.

You know he’s right. You were made to be with each other, but the gods must’ve thought it so amusing to make it so you cannot be together, and the biggest testament to that is the ring Beomgyu attached with the letter.

It represents his unending love and loyalty towards you, but also how empty those are when reality itself is standing in your way. You stare at it wistfully, the crowning diamond so clear it mirrors the tears on your cheeks, because you know that even if you put it on, it wouldn’t mean anything. Even if you go back to him, nothing would change. You have no choice but to stay. The question is, do you want to stay?

Does Taehyun even want you to stay?

Beomgyu has been beside himself trying to prove how much he loves and misses you, and trying to get you to come back to him in any way he can, while Taehyun has barely spent any time with you since you came here. Shouldn’t he be making an effort too? He seemed so interested in you back at the palace and he went through so much trouble to get you here, so why is he pulling away now? You have spent more time with his brother, and even Jaeyun, than with Taehyun himself. Was it a mistake coming here?

No, you can’t let yourself get sucked into that rabbit. It’s no use wondering whether you were right or wrong when you’re already here. You’ve made your bed and now you have to sleep in it. This isn’t some book you opened and didn’t like and now you want to put it back on the shelf. This is your life now and you have to commit to it. If Taehyun won’t come to you, you’ll go to him.

Kai had told you earlier that he and Taehyun have a sparring session today. You could go down and spend some time with them and try to talk to Taehyun a bit, get him to open up and be more comfortable around you, and maybe things will get better from there.

With that in mind, you head down to the training grounds, determination marking your every step.

______________________________________

Your plan works out better than you thought it would, as when you reach your destination, you find Taehyung alone, his younger brother having not arrived yet, and so you jump at the opportunity to spend some time alone with him.

“Good morning, my lord.” You greet the man who is currently sharpening a sword.

He stops what he’s doing and looks up, a small frown on his face. “Good morning, my lady. I thought I told you that you can call me Taehyun.”

“You did but it feels discourteous calling you that when you still insist on calling me ‘my lady’.” You explain pointedly. “Especially around other people who are probably wondering where I get the nerve to call their lord by his first name.”

His frown deepens at that, turning into a full-blown scowl. “Why? Did someone say something to you?”

“No, no.” You hurry to dispel his suspicions. “It was just an observation. No need to get all murderous.” You try to lighten up the mood with a joke but you quickly realize your mistake when he looks down and goes back to sharpening his sword.

“So you’ve joined the ranks of those who call me that.” He comments, voice carefully devoid of any intonation.

You feel bad for upsetting him but you also don’t want to lie. “I have seen you kill people.”

“You think those guards didn’t deserve to die?”

It’s your turn to frown. “No. They were just doing their jobs.”

“Their jobs of keeping watch while the prince violates you?” He asks and that stops you in your tracks. You’ve never thought of it that way. “The one who witnesses a crime and doesn’t stop it is just as bad as the perpetrator.”

“But they couldn’t have done anything. He’s the prince.” You try to rationalize.

“They could have not worked for him, but his money was good enough to buy their morals.”

You look away, feeling stupid for not realizing that sooner. You always feel stupid when it comes to him.

“You may have a point.” You concede, the conversation dying down again.

Nervous and not knowing what to say now, you look for something to occupy yourself with and quickly spot an ornate dagger on the table next to him. Curious, you grab it to inspect it.

“Is this yours?” You ask, and Taehyun only looks up at you to confirm with a hum before going back to what he’s doing.

It’s a curious thing, not bejeweled with precious stones like the personal weapons of the royals, but the handle is heavy and forged in an intricate pattern that you’d never seen before. Dare you say, it’s beautiful.

Mesmerized by how beautiful it is and how reflective the surface is, you mindlessly run your finger along it, regretting it immediately when the edge cuts your skin as easily as if it were a stick of butter.

“Ow!” You yelp, dropping it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taehyun admonishes, grabbing your hand to take a look at the wound, and you pout, “I didn’t think it would be sharp.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t it be sharp? It’s a weapon, not a butterknife.” He sighs, exasperated, and drops your hand. You let it fall to your side, not even attempting to staunch the small cut because of how embarrassed you feel getting chided by him.

“All such weapons I’d seen before in Beomgyu’s possession were only decorative.” You justify yourself, and he snorts derisively. “Of course they were because your prince is a pampered brat. I, on the other hand, need to carry real weapons on me in case anyone decides to make an attempt on my life.”

“Well, maybe I would have known that if you had bothered to spend any time with me since I’d gotten here, let alone train me like you said you would.”

His eyes narrow at you, and regret bubbles in your throat once again as you feel your knees buckle under his glare. “I wanted to give you some time to get used to the place first.”

“I’m more than used to it.” You double down stupidly, “I’m bored with it.”

He doesn’t seem to find your petulance offensive. In fact, to your surprise, you see a smile tugging on his lips. “Fine, let’s train now, shall we?”

He bends down to pick the dagger and, in the flash of an eye, he has it against your neck. “Rule number one, never drop your weapon. Your enemy could get a hold of it and use it against you.”

Your mouth opens and closes uselessly, the blade not even touching you but the chill of it is felt against your neck. Thankfully, he takes it away and you can breathe again.

He turns around and marches towards a table to grab something. “Rule number two, weapons aren’t toys. Treat them with caution.” He hands you what he got–a wooden dagger. “We’ll start with this. Since your prince doesn’t seem like he’s going to give up on you any time soon, we have to prepare for the possibility of him trying to send his men here to forcefully bring you back to him. Now, the castle is well protected, but in case they do manage to get through, you will need to learn how to defend yourself in order to ward off any attempts to kidnap you.”

As he’s describing the scenario, you feel how real of a possibility that might be. After all, Beomgyu has told you that he will do anything to get you back.

“I will pretend to be someone trying to grab you and you have to stop me in any way you can. They will want to bring you back safely to him, and that’s an advantage to you because you can hurt them while they can’t hurt you. You’re a woman so you’re naturally weaker physically but this is where your dagger comes in.”

“So in this scenario, I would stab them?” You ask incredulously.

“Yes.” He answers simply.

“What if I don’t want to stab anyone?”

“Then just stand there and let them take you. You’ve done that your whole life, you should be used to it.” He cocks his head to the side, expression arrogant and challenging. He’s trying to goad you, and it works.

Enraged, you grip the fake weapon tightly and charge at him. He easily dodges it, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back.

“Too slow, and your intentions are plain.” He whispers, his breath tickling your ear and making you shudder, before he pushes you away, making you stumble a bit before you regain your balance. “Again.”

You charge at him again, but just as you near him, he steps to the side, and you, not having calculated for the sudden movement, fall to the ground.

“Hmph!” Your breath is knocked out of you. You expect Taehyun to help you up but he just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at your fallen form.

“Aren’t you going to help me up?” You complain irately.

“You have arms and legs. You can help yourself up.”

Ugh.

Huffing, you stand up and dust yourself off, muttering, “What a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to be a gentleman. In here I am your instructor, not the man who is courting you.”

You snort at that. “You’re hardly the man courting me anywhere else.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of replying, you attempt to ambush him. The sudden attack takes him a bit by surprise, but he still manages to grab your wrist and pull you to him, holding onto your waist tightly with his other hand so you can’t squirm away.

There is barely any room for breath between you two as he murmurs, “Better but still bad.”

You open your mouth to retort but it’s squeezed out of you when he shoves you away in a manner that is decidedly not gentlemanly. You get the overwhelming urge to stomp your foot and complain, but you know this would have no effect on the man in front of you so you just keep going.

It goes on like this for a while, with you either charging and trying to stab him or him advancing on you and trying to disarm you–or should you say, successfully disarming you every time? It’s exhausting and he doesn’t make any attempts to be gentle with you, shoving you, giving you splinters by yanking the wooden dagger from your tight grip, letting you fall, twisting your arm behind your back so many times you’re worried he might fracture it… he doesn’t pull any stops on your account.

“Come on, it’s like you’re not even trying.” He comments disparagingly, and you seethe. The hell you’re not trying! You’re doing your best, standing in front of him, panting and dirty while he has barely broken a sweat. It’s not fair that he’s a fucking warlord yet he somehow expects you to put up any kind of close fight.

Clenching your teeth, you grip your dagger tightly and lunge at him. But if your early attempts were predictable, this one is too–moreover, you’re thoroughly exhausted by this point–and he effortlessly grabs onto your dagger-wielding arm and shoves it, along with you, against a nearby wooden beam.

“Tsk, tsk, you’re getting even worse.” He admonishes haughtily, and uses his body to pin you against the beam.

You’re about to give him your best scathing retort, but something catches your attention–his eyes.

“Your eyes… They’re gray. I never noticed.” You comment curiously, getting closer to his face to take a better look. You’ve never seen them this clearly before, and being this up close in bright sunlight, you can see how strangely beautiful they are. “They look like the sea here.”

Your compliment catches him off guard and he unconsciously softens. You watch as the black of his pupils widen to swallow more of the steely gray of his irises as you gaze into them, breaking eye contact only to glance down at his lips when he licks them.

Suddenly, an idea pops into your brain, and you arch into him, pressing your body flush against the hard planes of his. Hearing his breath hitch the slightest bit, you close the remaining distance between you and kiss him.

He falters, but you don’t stop. You kiss him until he yields and kisses you back, and then you push more, opening your mouth to glide your tongue against the seam of his lips, coaxing him to let you in. Curiously, he lets you lead the kiss, allowing himself to fall into whatever rhythm you choose to set, and you take this opportunity to not hold back.

When you feel him press back against you and moan into your mouth, that’s when you strike, using your free hand to grab at the real dagger he had slipped onto his belt earlier. You had hardly wrapped your hand around it than he shoved you back against the beam and grabbed your other wrist. Now you had both your hands pinned next to your head.

Taehyun licks his lips, breathing heavily but with a grin on his face. "What a crafty little vixen.”

“What can I say? I much prefer this way of fighting.” You bite your lip before you kiss him again, and this time he falls into it right away, sucking on your bottom lip before he opens his mouth and lets you push your tongue in, his strong body pressing against yours and riling you up.

“Woah, is this a bad time?” You hear Jaeyun’s voice and Taehyun is off you faster than you can blink.

“Of course not.” He barks unhappily, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Uh–we can come back later.” Kai squeaks uncomfortably but shuts down when Taehyun glares at him.

“No need.” You all stay frozen in your spots and watch him march towards a row of what you know to be blunt swords and pick two up then turn back to Kai and throw one of them at him. “You’re already so late. Let’s spar now.”

What’s his problem? Why is he so upset?

With displeasure, you watch as he transforms back into army general Taehyun in front of your eyes just when you were finally making some progress with him.

Fucking Jaeyun.

You feel eyes on you and look up to see Kai staring at you with an apologetic look and a blush on his face. You blush too, just now fully realizing that he’s caught you and his brother kissing heatedly.

Seems like both the brothers have a penchant for catching you in compromising positions.

“Ready?” Taehyun asks, readying his sword, and Kai looks away from you and draws his own sword. “Yes.”

“You call it, my lady.” Taehyun requests.

Grumpily, you step away from the beam, trying to ignore the wetness between your legs as you move closer to the two brothers. Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand then drop it, shouting, “Fight.”

Immediately, the clang of swords fills the area, and you’re suddenly acutely aware that they’re wielding real weapons, even if blunt, unlike the wooden dagger you were practicing with. Your heart beats erratically as you watch the fight unfold. Kai is larger and stronger but Taehyun is more agile and precise. He uses Kai’s large body mass to deliver more hits, while using his own smaller size to dodge Kai’s clumsy swings.

The fight is clearly unbalanced, almost as much as yours had been. Taehyun is evidently the superior swordsman, while Kai struggles greatly to defend himself, let alone land a hit on Taehyun.

You realize that Taehyun had actually been rather gentle with you now that you see the brutal hits he delivers to his own brother, whether that be by sword or using shoves and kicks. Kai can barely stand up before Taehyun knocks him back down, each hit delivered with a scathing instruction or remark about how he’s not blocking the hits right or how he’s swinging incorrectly or how he’s not using his body well.

"Honestly, all that height and strength is wasted on you." Taehyun disparages as he yet again strikes the blunt sword against Kai’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of him and driving him to his knees in pain. He scoffs, turning his back to his brother and walking away to catch his breath–not because Kai gave him any actual trouble, but because he’s so brutal with his hits that he tires himself out–leaving Kai to struggle to get back on his feet.

You look to Jaeyun, concerned about how rough Taehyun is being. “Should we stop them?”

But Jaeyun just shrugs. “That’s how their fights usually go. Taehyun is convinced that if he’s tough enough on Kai, that he’d get better, but he never does. Kai is just not a fighter.”

Not satisfied with Jaeyun’s complacent attitude, you walk towards Taehyun with a determined frown. Pulling out a handkerchief, you use it to pat the sweat from Taehyun’s forehead. He closes his eyes and lets you.

“Kai is really struggling out there.” You venture, and Taehyun opens his eyes again, giving you an unreadable look that makes you nervous, but you push on. “Why don’t you go easy on him a bit?”

“You think an enemy would go easy on him?”

His words annoy you. It’s so like Taehyun to take everything to its extreme. “No, but he’s not battling enemies right now. He is practicing with his brother, and maybe he’d learn more if you didn’t knock him down every minute.”

It’s Taehyun’s turn to be annoyed. “I’ve tried going easy on him. I’ve been trying for years. It just makes him slack off.”

“Well, the solution can’t be to beat him up.” You raise your voice, feeling frustrated with Taehyun and worried for his poor brother. You already feel so protective over Kai and you don’t want to see him get hurt because of Taehyun’s stubbornness and militant style.

"You think you know how to care for my own brother better than I can?” He asks, angry too but his anger has a dangerous edge to it that yours doesn’t possess. “I’ve been taking care of him since before our father passed away. What if something happened to me? He needs to learn how to fend for himself."

His stubbornness and refusal to entertain any opposing views are uncomfortably reminiscent of Beomgyu, and your mood sours sharply. Suddenly, you don’t want to have this conversation anymore.

“You’re right. I’m sorry for intruding, my lord. Far be it for me to dare to question you.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Don’t speak that way. Don’t act like I am some kind of tyrant.”

“Yes, my lord.” You say, intending to anger him more, even if it’s to your own detriment. You see his jaw clench and the gray of his eyes storm over, but you stand your ground. You suppose you’re just as stubborn as they are.

“Hey, hey, don’t fight over me.” Kai wheezes, using his sword as leverage to stand up. But he’s too weakened by the beatdown, causing him to lose his balance and stumble. You quickly rush to hold him up, but when you encircle his waist with your arms, he yelps in pain and you quickly take them away.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeak, watching him wobble but not knowing how to help him without hurting him. Thankfully, he manages to keep himself up and he gives you a pained smile. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I just don’t want you to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.” You say tightly, giving Taehyun a pointed look before looking back at Kai with concern. “But what about you? You don’t look like you can keep going.”

“Oh me? I’m fine.” He brushes you off unconvincingly, standing up straight and holding his sword out but you can see the wince on his face and the way his sword hand shakes.

You were just about to call his bluff, when Taehyun speaks up. “We’re done for today.”

“We are?” Kai asks in surprise.

“Yes. You can take a rest.” He gives you an unreadable look before turning on his heel and walking off.

“Wow, did you actually get Taehyun to cut the training short?” Jaeyun exclaims, “That’s amazing.”

“That’s cutting it short?” You deride.

“Believe it or not, yes. Normally, I’d have to be helped back to my room.” Kai laughs.

“That’s not funny.” You shut him down, concerned. “Why is he treating you so harshly?”

“He’s just trying to look out for me.” He explains, and you open your mouth to protest but he continues. “Like he said, he’s been taking care of me since we were children. He was even the one to protect me from our father who was much harsher than Taehyun is.”

You look at him inquisitively, waiting for him to elaborate. You’ve never heard much about their father and you really want to know more. Maybe it would help you unravel the enigma that Taehyun is currently to you. “Really? Was he that bad?”

“Oh, he was worse.” Kai chuckles breathlessly and limps towards a bench so he can sit down. You follow him and take a seat beside him. “Taehyun is downright soft next to him. He was a cruel and short-tempered man. You wouldn’t believe the beatings Taehyun had to endure on my behalf because our father thought I was a wimp and a pussy as he so lovingly liked to refer to me.”

“That horrible! I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.” You gasp, suddenly feeling sorry for both brothers despite your anger at Taehyun.

“It’s fine. The bastard’s dead now.”

You’re shocked to hear the venom is Kai’s voice. You’ve never heard him be anything less than pleasant.

“You must’ve really hated him, huh?”

An agreeing scoff is all that he answers you with. He doesn’t seem to like talking about this much, but you can’t let it go just yet. You needed to know more.

“What about your mother? What did she have to say about all of that?”

“Mother? She died giving birth to me so she didn’t really get the chance to say much about it.” Kai states, his hatred suddenly turning to melancholy. “But Taehyun tells me that she was the most kind and wonderful mother ever. I wish I had met her. He says he wishes so too. I guess that’s why he felt so guilty and like he had to protect me from father. I never got to experience what it’s like to have a loving parent and so as a child, he wanted to take on that role for me.” Kai smiles wistfully, “And he really did. He was such a kind and caring older brother. I got away with so much shit because of him.”

“So what changed?” You don’t mean to come off as rude, but the Taehyun you see now is a far cry from the person Kai is describing so fondly.

He wraps an arm around his bruised midsection, and you patiently wait for him to get his bearings. “He’s still very kind and caring but after our father passed away, Taehyun had to step up and become the lord of the house. It made him realize that someday, he might not be there for me and he wants to make sure that if that ever happens, I’d be able to take care of myself.”

“Oh.” You say dumbly because that’s what you are. You stuck your nose in other people’s business when you knew nothing about them and now you’re the asshole.

“I don’t want you to take what you’re seeing now as the whole of him. He is good at heart, and he wasn’t always so serious. He actually used to be a very carefree child, but after our mother died and father ceased to have any semblance of supervision over him, he took to beating it out of him bit by bit so that he’d be able to mold him into the ruthless heir he wanted. And then after our father died too, Taehyun had to fully embody that role so father’s men wouldn’t eat him alive, and eventually, lord Taehyun and my brother became inextricable.” Kai heaves a long sigh when he’s done, and turns to smile at you.

“That’s why I’m glad you’re here. He seems to be softer around you. Look how he stopped the practice just for you. I hope you can bring my brother back to me. Or at the very least, I hope you can make him a little more at peace with himself and with the world. He deserves it after all he’s been through.”

He really does, but what about you? Are you doomed to sacrifice your own happiness to help broken men with parental issues feel better about themselves?

You have those issues too. Don’t you deserve to be with someone who isn’t so fucked up for a change?

_____________________________

Damn your bleeding heart.

You have a world of issues of your own but, after your talk with Kai, you can’t help but feel guilty and stupid for the way you talked to Taehyun.You’ve only been here a few weeks and yet you’re acting just like the spoiled brat Beomgyu has always said you were.

You can’t help but feel like an apology is in order so you decide to seek Taehyun out and apologize to him.

He lets you into his study with a gentle voice that clashes a great deal with the ferocious side of him you’ve come to know. As you step in and bear the full weight of his stormy gaze on you, your body crouches feebly, making you feel smaller than you already do and you just stand still in the doorway, all words escaping you.

“Why don’t you take a seat, my lady?” Taehyun offers, and you rush to do so, grateful he’s given you something to do. But once you’ve sat down, you go back to your fish out of water impersonation. Thankfully, he gives you a prompt, “Not that I don’t so enjoy looking at you, my lady, but is there a reason for your visit?”

You blush at his unexpected compliment. Every so often, you get glimpses of the Taehyun you met back at the palace and your heart skips a beat but then he says or does something to push you away, sometimes physically.

“I came to apologize.” You say and he looks at you with muted curiosity. “Kai told me all about your parents and why you’re being so harsh with him. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive when I didn’t know the full story.”

“And now you do, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you can’t help but feel mocked. “What did he say?”

You brush off the feeling and relay what Kai said to you. “He explained how your father was always cruel to you, especially after your mother died in childbirth, and how you took the brunt of it to protect him but that after your father died too, you needed to take on his role and become the lord of the house and so you feel like you have to act this way to take care of Kai.” You say all in one breath then pause under the cryptic look he gives you. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I want to help you. I want to be the strong woman you think I can be.”

"I see." Still his expression doesn't betray any emotion as he stares at you. It unnerves you to no end. You're so used to easily reading Beomgyu's expressions that this statuesque manner of Taehyun deeply unsettles you. “Are you ready to prove that?”

You gulp. “I am.”

“Good.” His stare softens and he leans back in his chair, allowing you to breathe again. “Next time I go out hunting, why don’t you come along with me? We will have to go over some of the things you need to know before we go, but I expect you to participate fully in the hunt. Is that something you think you can do?”

Participate fully? That doesn’t sound good. “You mean attempt to kill the animal myself?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?" He asks, and this time you can sense his tone–reproaching and impatient. You can’t afford to disappoint him anymore.

You shake your head. "No."

___________________________________

You’ve never gone out hunting before. It was strictly a male sport back at the palace. Not that you ever wanted to join. You never felt that murderous male urge to hunt and kill your own food so you didn’t really care.

As it turns out, it was worse than you had imagined.

You could ride well. It's one of the few practical things women were allowed to learn back at the palace. And after your extensive lessons with Jaeyun, you could also shoot your crossbow well enough. But the combination of chasing prey on horseback while trying to shoot it down was new and challenging.

As the day stretches on, you feel exhausted and sweaty and gross, and frankly you don’t want to be here. For the first time since coming to this cold place, you feel hot, and the insects that swarm around you each time you slow down don’t help. You want to go back to the castle but you don’t want to tell Taehyun that in fear that he’s going to view you as weak or spoiled. You’ve just started proving yourself to him. You can’t take one step forward and two steps back.

“There.” Taehyun says lowly, spotting a deer from far away and taking off after it. You grit your teeth and kick your horse into motion, following behind him, one hand gripped tightly around the reign of the horse while the other struggles to take aim at the retreating animal. You feel sorry for it, but wish someone would just shoot it down already so you can finally go home and take a bath. But you know no one will, because you’re the one who is supposed to do it.

You had plenty of chances to get up close to prey animals in this hunt, seeing as you’re quite a skilled rider, but your aim while moving leaves something to be desired. So when you actually manage to land a hit on the deer, you almost can’t believe it. Your arrow lodges itself in the animal’s hind leg, causing its gallop to falter and forcing it to limp uselessly as you catch up to it.

“Good job.” You hear Taehyun shout, and he discharges his own arrow that strikes the animal in the abdomen, causing it to stumble to the ground. You slow down your horse as you go up to it, watching it sadly as it cries and bleeds out.

Taehyun dismounts his horse and walks up to the dying animal to take a look at it before he looks back at you and tells you to join him. Hesitantly, you do, flinching as you get closer to the poor animal.

What you don’t expect is for Taehyun to hand you the dagger you cut yourself on before, and order you to slit the deer’s throat.

“W-what?” You sputter, your stomach flipping.

“Look at it, it’s in pain. You need to end its suffering.”

You shake your head vehemently and attempt to hand him back the dagger. “So you do it!”

“I’ve done it countless times. I want you to do it.”

“Why?”

“I need to know that you’re capable of taking a life if you need to. What use are all the lessons I’m giving you on how to defend yourself if you’re not going to be able to follow through with them? How are you going to possibly kill someone if you can’t even kill this dying animal?”

Once again, Taehyun turns into the scary lord you heard so much about, and in this moment, you wish for nothing more than to have listened to Beomgyu and Wongyoung and everyone else when they warned you about him.

“I can’t.” You continue shaking your head, and Taehyun’s expression sours more. “The longer you stand there, the more you prolong its suffering.”

You cast another glance at the animal, seeing it weep like a small child as it feels the throes of death inch closer to it but not quite being there yet, and it just confirms Taehyun’s words. “But I don’t know how.”

“I’ll help you.” He walks you to the animal and gets behind you, the both of you kneeling down beside its head.

“Grab the head and pull it back.” He instructs, and the deer’s cries renew in vigor as you do so. It struggles in your grip but you hold onto it tightly. Taehyun grabs your hand that holds the dagger and brings it close to the animal’s now exposed neck.

“Okay.” You cry, the ringing in your ear making it hard to hear yourself.

"Don't cry. You need to be steady or you'll make it suffer needlessly." Taehyun’s voice is stern and devoid of reassurance, but you swallow your cries anyway. You need to do this for the animal. You need to end its suffering and you need to prove yourself to Taehyun.

He guides your hand to the underside of the deer’s neck and presses down as he slices upward, cutting the neck wide open. You’re surprised by how smooth the cut is and how easily the skin and tissues give way under the sharp knife.

You let go of the deer as the blood gushes from its now slashed neck, but you don’t do it fast enough and some of the blood spurts on your hand, the mild warmth of it burns your skin and you immediately drop the dagger and stand up. But your eyes stay glued onto the deer as it kicks and kicks and breathes its last breaths.

For what it’s worth, it doesn’t take long for the animal to die after that, and very soon, it stops moving entirely and just lays there in a stillness that forces you to reflect on what you just did. It’s apparent that it was the merciful decision to stop the animal’s suffering, but is it as clear that you had to be the one to do it?

Taehyun seems to think so but you don’t know if you agree. Beomgyu certainly wouldn’t have exposed you to this but here you are, blood on your hands as you stare down at the animal you slaughtered and a certain warlord whispers in your ear.

“You did well. I’m proud of you.”

__________________________________

You cry and you cry that day, your tears falling heavily into the bath until you’re not sure if it’s filled with water or your own tears.

But eventually the tears stop, and each time you go hunting after that, it gets easier.

Taehyun is so pleased with your performance that he starts spending more and more time with you, whether that be hunting or sparring or even just having a simple dinner together like you are right now.

"You look beautiful.” Taehyun ventures, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see him staring back at you bashfully. “I mean… you're always beautiful, but especially tonight."

You want to take the compliment. You really do, but you can’t make sense of the split personality he seems to have. At least Beomgyu’s actions were always consistent, but Taehyun just leaves you on edge every time you’re around him, wondering which Taehyun you’ll get this time–the cold and unyielding one or sweet and charming one.

“Hmm.” You reply concomitantly, and he frowns.

Oh, did you upset him with your unexpected response? Good. Now he knows how you feel.

In any case, he doesn’t comment on it and just continues as if there was nothing amiss.

“I have something for you.” He pulls out the dagger he always gives you on your hunts and presents it to you. “This dagger has been in my family for centuries. It bears our sigil and it’s been handed down from father to son for generations.” He explains and your eyes trace over the engraving again. So that’s what that is. “I want you to have it.”

“What?” You breathe, abandoning your affected nonchalance in the face of such a valuable item. “Oh, I couldn’t!”

“You can. You’ve done such a marvelous job so far.” He praises you so offhandedly, not realizing how much this actually means to you. This is the first time he’s been so outwardly appreciative of your efforts and it’s much more than you’ve ever expected from him, honestly. “Besides, you need it to defend yourself. Keep it on you at all times, okay? I need to know that you’ll be safe.”

You stare at him dumbfoundedly.

“What?” He asks uncertainly, still holding out the dagger in the air.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You!” You shout, feeling like you’re going to go crazy if you don’t get an explanation from him right now. “You act so hot and cold. One moment you treat me like shit and the next you’re giving me a priceless heirloom that is supposed to stay in your family. Why are you doing this?"

He sighs, understanding dawning on him. "You’re… a very beautiful lady, as I'm sure you’re aware by now with how crazy your prince acted over you and how much he tried to prevent other men from courting you. And well, I am a man as well. Despite how much I try to control myself, I’m still as liable to fall under the spell of a beautiful woman like any other man, and I worry that if I let myself get carried away with you, I might end up making the wrong choice. You’re a very lovely woman. I just need to make sure you’re the right person for me before I let myself get swept away."

“Oh.” Never in a million years did you think that that would be the explanation for his contradictory behavior around you.

“That’s why I was such an asshole that day with Kai. I was angry at myself for almost slipping.”

So one man you romanced was too obsessed with touching you that he raped you and the other is too scared to even come near you? Wonderful.

“But you can’t just ignore me or lash out at me because you think you can’t control yourself around me! I abandoned everything, the life I’ve always known, to come here with you because you promised you’ll be there for me!”

“I know and I am!” He insists earnestly, “I am here for you and I promise to be better, but it would really help if you would prove to me once and for all that you've got what I'm looking for. Then I can let go, knowing I won’t regret it."

That pisses you off. “I’ve done nothing but bend over backwards to prove myself to you. What else could I possibly do for you to finally trust me?”

He winces, finally seeming to feel bad for what he’s making you go through. He thinks about it for a bit then says, “You can come to court with me, see how I deal with my subjects and then you’ll get a feel of what kind of man I really am and whether I am someone you want or not, and I’ll get to see how you act in a stressful situations where you need to make a judgment and I’ll make my own decision. What do you say?”

"Fine." You cross your arms over your chest.

“Are you going to take this?” He asks, offering you the dagger again, and you snatch it out of his hands, huffing.

Just then, a knock comes at the door.

“Come in.” Taehyun speaks up, but doesn’t take his eyes off you.

A guard steps in, bowing. "Greetings, my lord.”

“What do you want?”

“Someone is here to see the lady."

_______________________________________

It’s been so long since you’d last seen your parents. You used to wish that when you’d meet them again, you’d be able to look at them with a sense of pride and accomplishment at having secured a marriage that would make them pleased.

But now, as they stand in front of you, all you can regard them with is blame and contempt. Even more so as they reveal that they’re here to convince you to go back to Beomgyu.

“He’s threatening to take your father’s business down if we can’t get you to go back to him!” Your mother exclaims as if she can’t understand how you could possibly refuse.

“Seeing as to how you prostituted me out for that business, I can’t say that I have it in me to care much, mother.” You shoot back poisonously, but she laughs.

“Prostituted you? Please! You were practically throwing yourself at him. I’m sure you would’ve spread your legs for him even if we never had that deal with his father.”

“Heejin!” You father hisses in warning at the same time that Taehyun steps forward, fury dancing in his eyes, but you quickly hold your hand out to stop him.

“Oh, I see what’s going on.” Your mother says derisively, shooting a glare at Taehyun. “You found another man to ensnare with your cunt.”

“Will you shut your mouth, you dreadful witch!” Your father screams, and Taehyun gives you a frustrated look.

“Do you want me to throw them in the cells?”

“I can handle this.” You insist, and Taehyun reluctantly gives in. As a powerful lord of his own city, he must not be used to just standing there helplessly, but you appreciate his respect for your wishes. “If that’s what you want, my lady.”

You turn back to your parents, hatred and disgust filling your veins, the likes of which you’d never felt before. It is one thing for Beomgyu to take advantage of you, but it is another thing entirely for your own flesh and blood to not only sell you out, but to stand here and shame you for the situation they put you in, a situation they benefited from so much that they’re here to try to force you back into it.

Beomgyu is right. He’s the only one who really cared about you. If it wasn’t for him, you’re sure your family would’ve sold you to a worser fate.

“You better get the fuck out of here before I let him get his hands on you.” You threaten, and your mother gasps and turns to your father. “Are you going to let her talk to us that way?”

Your father gives you a pleading look. “Don’t do this, honey. You don’t know what that boy is capable of. He’s not going to rest until he gets you back at any cost.”

“Oh, is that concern I hear, father? Where was that when the prince physically imprisoned me at the palace and forced himself on me? That’s right, you were back at home enjoying the money he gave you for it, but now that I’m out of his clutches, you want to act fucking concerned?!” You scream so loudly your throat burns.

You don’t realize how angry and bitter you are with your parents until they’re standing right in front of you. Suddenly all the things you were made to go through because they couldn’t act like real fucking parents and protect you come surging forward and make you want to hurt them. But you won’t. Because you’re better than them.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Face.”

“But the money–”

You bark out a bitter laugh. “Don’t worry, mother, I will write to the dear prince and beg him not to cut you off.”

“Oh, sweetheart–”

“But not for you.” You spit at your father, “You can rot in hell for all I care. It’s for my siblings. They don’t deserve to suffer because of what you’ve done to me.”

“Thank you. Thank you–”

“Throw them out, please.” You turn to Taehyun, and he gestures to his guards to follow your command.

Once your parents are out of your sight, you break down. Every single hateful emotion that’s been fueling your body flushing out at once and getting replaced with a sadness so deep and crushing that you fear it will swallow you whole.

Your sobs echo around the room. You’re so caught up in it that you jump when you feel someone’s arms around you, and you look up in shock to see that it’s Taehyun.

You laugh feebly. "I know. I'm so weak, right?"

He frowns and shakes his head forcefully. "No! You’re not weak. In fact, you’re so incredibly strong. You had the guts to confront your parents about what they’ve done to you and didn’t let them shame or guilt you into bowing to their twisted wishes, but you also didn’t let your anger at them hurt your siblings. That takes so much strength and goodness of heart. You’re honestly incredible." He breathes in awe, brushing your tears off.

“Thank you.” You feel at a loss for words. You never expected this from Taehyun. His words alone give you the push you need to fight back against that overwhelming sadness and force it back behind its gates.

Later that day, you send out your first and hopefully last letter to Beomgyu, beseeching him not to cut off your family and advising him that he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks this is the way he’s going to get you back.

You know that this won’t be the end of it. It can’t be. But when his reply comes back, you feel a chill run down your spine.

You’re right. This is not the way. I was just hoping that you would agree and wouldn't force me to do something extreme. But have it your way, my princess. Just know, I will get you back.

___________________________________

What you learn from attending Taehyun’s court is that he has a very strict and rigid moral and penal code. He doesn’t make allowances for anybody, no matter their circumstances or how much they beg. You suppose, more than anything, that this is where the rumors about his merciless persona come from.

It is never more apparent than in the case of the man kneeling in front of you right now, convicted of killing his daughter’s supposed murderer, her husband.

“He killed her! I know he did! She was my only child.” The old man wails, “How can you sentence me to death for avenging my own flesh and blood?”

“It’s not up to you to avenge her. You should’ve come to the court and presented your case and if it was true, I would’ve executed him myself, but you took the law into your hand and became a murderer yourself, and the punishment for that is death.”

Your gasp is muffled under the wails of the man’s wife and the rejoicing of the dead husband's family. The wife tries to push past the guards who are taking the suspect away, shouting and screaming for mercy.

“Please, my lord, mercy.” She cries out, “I have no one but him. My dear daughter is dead. You can’t take him away too!”

“He sealed his own fate, mother.” Taehyun's cold reply offers no reprieve for the poor crone.

“Curse you.” She shouts, spitting in the direction of Taehyun.

The guards are immediately shoving her out of the room as she shouts out for her husband and he cries back in grief. “Damn you. Damn you to hell!”

Why is Taehyun doing this? How is this the same man who could be so incredibly sweet to you? You can’t fathom how such kindness and such irredeemable inhumanity can exist in the same person, and you can’t bear to watch it anymore. You’ve only just started to fall for him. You can’t handle seeing him act so cruelly, and so you run out of the courtroom, not sparing a glance at the emotionless lord seated at the head of the room.

When your escape winds you up at a ledge overlooking the sea, you let the wind flow freely in and out of your lungs in large gasps, taking out some of your anxiety and replacing it with the salty air.

Is this really the man you might end up with? This cold and unfeeling lord? You feel like you’ve run from the arms of one cruel man right into those of another. If Beomgyu is a deadly siren then Taehyun is the vicious sea.

Again, you wonder what Beomgyu would’ve done in that situation. Would he have so easily doomed a vengeful father to death or would he have pardoned him? You don’t know but you know he would’ve never subjected you to any of it. You were so sheltered with Beomgyu but Taehyun seems to revel in throwing you to the wolves just to see if you would survive.

It feels so cold without you, Beomgyu.

You don’t know how long you just stand there in the cold breeze, letting it chill your bones as you watch the waves crash endlessly onto the shore, but eventually, you see a figure coming your way from the periphery of your vision, and then you feel just a little bit less cold as a coat is draped around your shoulders.

“How long have you been out here? You’re shaking.” Taehyun takes note of your current miserable state, but you don’t have time for his lukewarm attempts at kindness.

“Why are you here?”

Taehyun sighs and takes his hands off you. “I wanted to see where you’d run off too. It’s rude to leave before the lord of the house, you know?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stomach your casual cruelty.” You sneer.

“You think that was cruel?”

“Yes.” You reply as if it was a stupid question. “This isn’t some animal you’re slaughtering out in the woods. How can you take a life so easily?”

“I never take a life easily.” He states firmly, a hint of anger and a ton of indignation slipping into his voice. “I consider everything before I do and make sure it’s the right decision. I even carry out all the executions I order myself so I would never sentence a man to death unless I was absolutely sure he deserves it.”

You turn on him, “How can you say that he deserves it? That man was avenging his daughter. What does it matter whether you kill the husband or he does?”

“How are you so sure it’s the husband?” He counters, turning to face you too. “That dead man never got the chance to defend himself. Maybe he didn’t do it. It could’ve been someone else. It could’ve been that grieving father himself for all we know. He could've been setting up his son in law because the dead can’t talk. Have you thought about that? Have you thought that he might just be lying?”

“He didn’t look like he was lying.” You protest lamely, and Taehyun snorts. “And what do you know of lying? Your whole life you’ve been lied to and you never saw it. Your prince lied to you. Your friend lied to you. Even your family lied to you.”

You bristle at the fact that he’s using what happened to you against you. Well, if that’s how he wants to go about this, then you can hit back in kind. “And you’re acting just like that prince you hate so much. Neither of you can face the fact that you could possibly be wrong about something. That man could’ve been lying but he could’ve been telling the truth. How would you feel if you were in his position and someone murdered your loved one and you couldn’t do anything about it? You’re trying so hard to fill your father’s shoes that you forgot what it’s like to have some fucking empathy for other people.”

He moves closer to you and grabs you by the arms and you suddenly realize how high up you are right now. He could so easily push you off this ledge and you’d fall to your death on the jagged rocks below.

“Don’t fucking compare me to my father.” He growls, “I don’t know what it’s like? You think you know so much, huh? You think you have it all figured out? Do you want to know how my mother really died?”

You falter. What does he mean by how she really died? “Kai said she died in childbirth.”

“No. That was a lie. I lied to Kai about it.” He mocks, “My mother was killed by my father.”

“What?”

“You want to know why I am the way that I am? It’s because I learned from a young age that without having a strong and just legal system in place, people would be free to commit whatever crimes they wanted without any retribution. I know that because my father killed my mother and everyone in court knew about it, but no one did anything because he paid them all off. Even the fucking lawmen and the priests knew!” He screams in your face, looking the most emotional you’ve ever seen him. You must’ve really hurt him.

“I tried to kill him but I couldn’t so I tried to gather men who would help me take him to trial but no one would go against my father. They told him of my plans and he threatened to kill me. I couldn't die and leave Kai alone with him so I bided my time until he died then I confiscated the lands of everyone who helped him and hired new men, that's why I'm hated so much in court but I don’t care. I made sure to form a strong legal system overseen by myself that would punish anyone who would commit such a crime so no one would have to go through what I went through. That’s why it’s important for me to uphold the law even when it makes me seem like a monster. So don’t fucking tell me that I don’t know what it feels like, but that doesn’t mean that I will allow people to take the law into their own hands and just start killing other people without any accountability!”

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of you just glaring at each other as the sea air carries away his indignant breaths.

You feel sorry for him, you really do. You have plenty of experience with feeling helpless and victimized, so you don’t begrudge him his anger, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll give him a pass for it.

"And are you satisfied with what you've done?” You ask scornfully, “At least that man is going to his death knowing he avenged the one he loved. He will go to his grave a content man while you will have to live the rest of your life with the fact that your father got to live a long life without facing any punishment for what he did to your mother." Your words make him pale as they hit him, and his grip loosens around you so you take the opportunity to push his hands off you.

"Would you have sentenced Kai to death if he had killed your father?” You challenge, but he stays silent. Scoffing, you take off the coat he gave you and shove it against his chest. “If this is what your justice entails, letting a killer live while sentencing a father to death for avenging his daughter, then I don’t want it."

___________________________________________

You don't see Taehyun for a few days after that and you wonder if you’ve finally taken things too far and he doesn’t want you anymore. That’s fine, you can’t live with a man who is so cruel anyway. You know you were a bit cruel with your words yourself, but he needed to hear it.

You still attend your training with Jaeyun and Kai because you have nothing else to do, and if you’re left to your thoughts of what might actually happen to you if he kicks you out of the castle, then you might lose it. It’s not that you enjoy your time here, far from it, but you have nowhere else to go other than back to Beomgyu.

And maybe you should. So far, he’s been right about a lot of things, and it would be so much easier to just give into him, to let him take you into his arms and shower you with the kind of smothering love that only he could give. He wouldn’t make you work for it either. To him, you’re enough as you are and he wants every bit of you.

Just as you’ve almost given into Beomgyu’s song, Taehyun comes to you, crashing through the enchantment.

“Why are you here?” You look at him with narrowed eyes. Given your position, you should probably be nicer to him. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. He takes lives so easily, but you’re stubborn and just as staunch about your own morals. You’re not going to suck up to him even if your future depended on it.

But Taehyun doesn’t seem bothered by your rudeness. He just smiles knowingly at you. "I want you to join me at dinner tonight."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you." You turn your head away from him contemptuously. He can’t just come up to you and act all innocent after what he’s done.

Taehyun isn’t the least bit daunted by your outwardly disdain for him. He moves around so he’s in your field of vision again and you see that he still has that damned smile on his face.

"I didn't sentence that man to death." He informs you and you straighten up immediately, eyes widening. “What?”

"I thought about what you said. You’re right, it does eat away at me. Every night I see that man’s–that monster’s face and dream that I would’ve killed him.” He snarls, looking down at his hands, and you suppose he’s imagining even now. He sighs and shakes his head, looking up at you. “I investigated the matter of the daughter’s death. Turns out the husband really did murder her so I let the old man go.”

You stare at him in shock.

“Of course, I couldn’t let him go back to his home or else everyone will think they can just enact their own form of vigilante justice whenever they please, and that is still something I am staunchly against. So I sent him and his wife away to another city.” Once again he sighs, “I don’t know if that was the right choice or not. Part of me thinks it’s the right thing, that I spared a grieving father’s life, but the other part is asking me what the hell I’m doing and why am I even listening to you when this is the way I’ve been doing things for so long." He shrugs and doesn't meet your eyes. “I guess what you said about if Kai had done a similar thing, would I have sentenced him to death as well, really got to me.”

He’s still not looking at you, seeming at war with himself just like he’s describing. So you take it upon yourself to jump up, beaming, and grab him, kissing him.

You can tell he’s surprised by the sudden kiss but he doesn’t take long to reciprocate it, sighing against your lips as if he really needed the reassurance and gentle touch. Kai’s words about how they never really got to experience the love of a parent springs to mind. Their mother died when Taehyun was just a kid too. He had to live under the tyranny of his father, and even when the man passed away, Taehyun had to step up and fill his shoes. He didn’t get the chance to experience much love in his tumultuous life, but he’s done so much for you already, and maybe you can repay him in time.

With that in mind, you deepen the kiss, not pushing for anything sexual but just allowing him to feel how proud you are with what he’s done, and when you pull back, you cup his face in your hands and whisper to him, “I know that was very hard to do, but thank you for listening to me and considering my words.”

“It was hard not to when you were shouting them at me.” He grins, “I have to say I’m not used to that. People are usually too scared of me to oppose me, let alone fight me on my decisions.”

“Oh believe me, I was fucking terrified.” You laugh.

“But you still spoke your mind. I thought that I wanted someone like me to rule beside me, but you’re not only strong but brave. You always call me out on my shit even if I terrify you.” He laughs warmly and you bask in the sweetness of it. He has such a melodic laugh. “You’re even more amazing than what I wanted.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not used to such praise from Taehyun, and it leaves you flustered. So you settle on just showing him how happy you are by kissing him again. You know he’s not a man of many words and you hope he can feel how appreciative you are through this. You think he can, as you feel him smile against your lips.

This time you can’t help but let it turn sensual. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, and you’ve been getting so needy.

“I want you my lord.” You pull away to whisper seductively.

“I want you too.” He breathes through gritted teeth, jaw clenched as he tries to hold back. “But that can wait until after the wedding.”

Suddenly, all the haze of lust flees from your brain and you step back. “Wedding?” You croak.

“Yes. You’ve more than proven yourself to me. I’m ready to take you as my wife.”

You feel your body breakout in a cold sweat. "So soon?"

"It's not soon. You've been here for months. It is why you're here in the first place, isn’t it?" Taehyun frowns at you in suspicion. He must be puzzled by your strange reaction. You’re puzzled too.

“I suppose.” You gulp. You don’t know why you’re so freaked out over this. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To marry a rich and powerful man who would take care of you and respect you, and that’s Taehyun. So why are you having second thoughts now?

You know why. You know perfectly well why, and Taehyun seems to know it too,

“Do you still want him?”

“No…” Your denial sounds pathetic even to your own ears.

“Look, if you want to go back to him, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I don’t–”

“If you don’t want to go back to him but still don’t want to marry me, then I’m not going to force you to go either. You can stay here under my protection and I am sure that I can even arrange a good marriage for you.”

“Wow, that’s romantic.” You mutter to yourself. You honestly don’t expect him to get angry because of it, not when his attitude is so painfully nonchalant.

“I don’t know what you want me to say?” He asks, exasperated. “I’m trying too! I keep making compromises for you, but if you don’t want me then I’m not going to force you to be with me. So just tell me what do you want?”

I want you to love me? I want you to care? What did love get you anyway? Haven't you had enough of being pathetic for one man?

"Do you love me, Taehyun?"

That catches him off guard. He obviously wasn’t expecting this question, and he stares at you blankly. "What does love have to do with it?"

"Nothing." You smile at him bitterly. “Just give me some time to think, will you?”

If this was Beomgyu, he wouldn’t have accepted that. He would’ve insisted on knowing exactly what is going through your mind. He would've tried to wiggle his way into staying. But Taehyun is not Beomgyu. And he doesn’t push for answers you don't readily give.

“Okay.” He concedes, kissing the top of your head. “Have a good night, my lady.”

___________________________________________

A good night is far from what you have. You toss and turn in bed, plagued by a million emotions spurred on by Taehyun’s proposal, until you fall into a restless sleep that gives you no reprieve, only for you to wake up a couple of hours later.

You open your bleary eyes and look out to see the pitch blackness of the night outside. You suppose you’re just having one of the regular midnight disturbances you’ve been experiencing since you came here, and you almost close your eyes again to attempt to go back to sleep when you feel someone’s arms move over your body and their lips kissing along your neck.

You’re still confused from sleep but it feels nice, and your grogginess, coupled with the feeling of their soft lips on the sensitive skin of your neck and their big hands kneading your breasts through your nightgown, leave you heated in no time.

This must be Taehyun. He must've changed his mind. You moan, arching back into him, your ass getting pressed against his hard member.

His hands and mouth falter for a second before he doubles his effort, his hands now groping at your chest roughly and his mouth sucking a bruising kiss into your skin.

“Taehyun!” You gasp when his fingers pull at your nipples. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, the sharp pain somehow sending a shooting sense of pleasure to your pussy.

“Not Taehyun.” The man behind you growls and you immediately freeze. No. It can’t be…

"B-Beomgyu?" You shudder, your teeth almost clanging together from how terrified you were. How did he manage to get into Taehyun’s fortress-like castle?

“That’s right, princess. I told you I’d come for you. I'll always find you.” He murmurs sweetly into your ear as if he’s oblivious to your current state of terror. “How could you think it was him? Do you let him touch you like this?”

“N-No.” You deny weakly, even though it’s the truth. Taehyun never touched you this way, but maybe the lack of conviction in your answer is due to the guilt in knowing you would’ve let him if he wanted to.

“I don’t believe you. You were so pliant in my hands when you thought I was him and now you’re all rigid. Are you so used to him crawling into your bed that you so readily present yourself to him?” He asks, his hips pointedly driving into your ass that was still arched against him.

“No…”

“So you want me to believe that he didn’t lay a finger on these tits?” He goes back to growling, squeezing your breasts in his hands.

“No.” You repeat with more conviction now.

He hums, sounding a bit placated now, and one of his hands makes its way between your legs, making you inhale sharply as his fingers find your embarrassingly wet pussy. “What about this? Is this for me or for him?” He asks, rubbing your pussy through the soaked fabric of your underwear.

“You, Beomgyu.” You mewl, the small amount of pleasure leaving you overwhelmed after weeks of being deprived of him and not receiving any attention from Taehyun.

“That’s my good princess.” He praises, pushing your underwear to the side and pressing two fingers inside of you at once. You’re still not used to the intrusion as you’ve never had anything inside you apart from that night, but somehow you don’t feel any pain, only a burning sense of pleasure that leaves you feverish as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Beomgyu…ah… p-please.” You pathetically beg, needing more.

“What do you want, princess?”

“I want y-you…inside m-me.” You choke, rutting your ass back into him, trying to get him riled up so he’d take you.

God, you need him. You missed him so much. You’ve been through so much shit in this horrid place. You need a sense of familiarity. You need to feel safe and protected again. You need to feel him around you, inside you. “I need you.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear, princess.” He takes his fingers out of you and you sob. “Shh, dumb baby. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

You hear him hurriedly push his pants down over his cock and grab your top leg up to bend it up, exposing your pussy to him. You feel the head of his cock against your entrance and hold your breath, preparing for the painful stretch as he eases in. With one smooth motion, he slides in, quieting your sobs.

Once again, you marvel at how you feel none of the pain you felt the last time he took you, but you can’t dwell on it for long because he pulls back then snaps his hips forward, fucking the thoughts right out of you brain.

"Does that feel nice, princess?"

“Mhhh.” You barely muster, your every nerve ending burning up. You love how he can make your mind go silent.

"Look at me."

You turn to look at him and your heart skips several beats as his pretty face comes into view. His features are so delicately beautiful. You can't help but kiss him.

Unlike Taehyun, he's insistent, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily exploring it. He only pulls back when you’re both breathless.

"I missed you so much." He professes, the tender words sounding absurd over the lewd sound of sex that fills the room. "He's not giving it to you like you need, is he, baby?"

“No.” You answer in a small voice.

“Of course he’s not. Because you’re not his. You’re mine.” He asserts, his thrusts growing in harshness. "You can't hide from me. I know you miss me. I know you want to come back to me. That’s okay. It’s because you’re mine and you know it. I know what you really want. Isn’t that right, baby?” His hand goes back to your pussy, doubling your pleasure.

You sob. “Yes.”

"Yes. You’re mine. So why the hell are you thinking about marrying him?”

Guilt floods your body and you stutter, “I–I just need–”

“What you need is to come back and let me take care of you. You think he’ll make you happy? No one can make my princess happier than I can. Come back and I’ll never let you go again. You’ll never be able to run away from me again. I’ll make sure of it.” His grip on your thigh turns bruising as he utters those alarming words.

“Wh–what do you mean?” You ask, throat going dry.

“I was wrong in the past. I took you against your will and you hated me for it. I treated you well and you tricked me. Both times I didn’t go far enough. But now I know what I need to do.” He says ominously and your stomach churns. “You think your lord will still want you if you were carrying another man’s child?”

You try to scream but it gets strangled in your throat. You try to squirm away but you can’t move a single muscle. You’re trapped in your own body by a mysterious force and you can do nothing but sit there and take whatever he has to give you.

“You’re being such a good princess. You’re going to make me cum.” He coos softly, but his thrusts turn brutal. You can’t feel your legs as they go numb but your pussy continues to throb with need despite the horrific situation. “Going to make you mine forever. Are you ready?”

Yes.

You shoot up in bed, sweaty and panting. You look around frantically but find no sign of Beomgyu or Taehyun anywhere in your room.

It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. So why do you feel this gaping sense of loss at the center of your heart?

Your whole body shivers in a sudden gust of chill and you glance at the window, only to find it closed. You look around your room, finding it still entirely foreign to you. Everything is awash with a chilly gray, the same color of the lord of the castle’s eyes and just as cold.

You can’t stand being in this room anymore. You get up from the bed, feeling the perpetually damp floor beneath your feet before you put your slippers on and hurriedly grab a coat and throw it around your shivering body, clutching it tightly as you pad across the room and out the door.

It’s even colder outside, the wind almost throwing you out of the open arches each time you pass one as you wander around aimlessly, feeling like a specter in an abandoned castle for how empty and desolate it looks at night.

You come to a pause in front of one of the arches, looking out to the sea. It's the exact same sea you’ve loved but it feels so different without Beomgyu. It's cold and dark and unfathomable and it scares you. You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling for the dagger that you now always have hidden under your clothes to make yourself feel just a little bit safer.

But something warm suddenly envelops you–a tune that seems to be coming from somewhere nearby. Curious, you follow it like a moth to flame, hoping to be greeted by a warm glow. It leads you to a room with huge doors that are cracked open. You’ve never seen this room before, and you cautiously peer inside to discover the source of the music, finding Kai playing the harp alone inside.

Awed, you stand there for a bit, just listening and letting the sweet melody soothe your chilled bones. He looks lovely as he plays, his hands moving gracefully over the strings, his concentrated features reflecting the glow of the lantern nearby, making him look like an angel. And you wonder how it is possible that he could ever be related to the stern lord of this castle?

His heavenly features and celestial music pull you in, forming a honey like barrier between you and the cold sea outside, and you find yourself inching your way into the room to get closer to them. But you still keep your cover, opting to just observe him secretly and marvel at the beauty of the music he weaves with the strings. It’s beautiful in a sad way–the way a caged songbird sings, and you stand there listening to the sorrowful elegance of it until it stops.

“That was gorgeous.” You gush, making him jump in shock, so unaware of his surroundings, unlike his older brother. “Oh. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“That’s okay.” He puts a hand to his chest and sighs in relief to see that it’s just you. “And thank you. I didn’t realize you were there. Why are you still up?”

You shrug, moving further into the room to take a seat beside him.

“Can��t sleep?” He prompts and you groan. “No. It’s cold and miserable and I feel like a vengeful sea spirit is gonna murder me in my sleep.” You say looking around and shuddering. Then you look back at him. “No offense.”

He laughs. “None taken. Our home isn’t exactly the plushy palace you’re used to.”

“It isn’t.” You say simply. “I didn’t know you played.”

“Oh, I do. I’ve been playing since I was a kid, actually. It’s a point of contention between me and Taehyun. He wants me quit and focus on practicing sword fighting or archery or whatever but all I want to do is play. He thinks I can just give this up like he did.”

Now that surprises you. “Taehyun used to play?”

“Sure. But more importantly, he used to sing.” He says then laughs at your stunned expression, “Don’t look so surprised. I told you he was a lot more carefree back then…but of course, he stopped because of father.” He adds on sadly, “I haven’t heard him sing in years. He used to sing me to sleep when we were kids. Never slept better." He smiles as he remembers.

You would've never guessed that Taehyun used to sing. You wonder what he sounds like. You wonder if he'll ever sing for you.

Well, if you reject his proposal then you highly doubt he would.

“He asked me to marry him.”

Now it’s Kai’s turn to be shocked. Actually, the flurry of emotions that pass over his face is disorienting and hard to keep track of, but it eventually settles into a cryptic one that so reminds of his brother.

“And what did you say?”

“I said I’ll have to think about it.” You say, trying to get a read on him, and when that fails, you just choose to be direct, “You don’t seem that pleased. I thought you wanted me and Taehyun to be together.”

“I do!” He insists, switching back into the flustered Kai you know so well. “Like I predicted, you’re very good for him. He’s been much better since you arrived…”

“But?” You prompt and he looks away guiltily. “But I’m worried about your prince. I’ve sort of been asking around about him ever since you came here and well, none of what I heard back is reassuring. He seems unstable and pissed off and I worry what he might do to my brother if he were to marry you.”

You don’t say anything. You just sit there quietly and absorb his words. Ever since you came here, you’ve been stressing over Beomgyu and what he might do, especially when he’s not been shy about making threats. But Taehyun has always dismissed your concerns and assured you that he won’t be able to actually do anything. So to hear his brother tell you how scared he is just makes your fears seem real again.

“That’s incredibly selfish of me, isn’t it? I mean, here you are having finally escaped from him but all I can think about is what he might do if you don’t go back.”

“It’s not selfish.” You reassure him, even if his words have hurt you. “He’s your brother. He’s the only family you have left. You have the right to worry about him.”

“But still… he seems to be happy with you. It’s what I wanted, and I need to trust that he can take care of himself and you.” He fiddles with his harp, plucking stray notes here and there. “I’ll get over it, you’ll see. I’ll be the best brother in law anyone has ever had.” He looks up, giving you a half smile, and you give him a small smile back, appreciating the effort he’s putting in for you.

A silence falls over the both of you, and you fall into your thoughts again. You’ve been so worried about yourself and Beomgyu this whole time that you never really considered that Taehyun might be in danger because of you. Even if you decide to marry him, should you? Would Beomgyu really attempt to make good on his promise to kill him?

Beomgyu has never hurt anyone before but who knows what he's capable of. You never thought he'd hurt you either but he did despite claiming he loves you the most in the world. If he's willing to hurt you to have you, would he be willing to kill someone to get you back?

“Do you miss him?” Kai asks, snapping you out of your inner turmoil.

“Who?” You ask, already knowing.

But Kai’s reply is patient. “The prince.”

“Would you look down on me if I said yes?”

"No.” He answers honestly and you breathe a sigh of relief. “You've known him all your life and you've loved him for almost as long. It can't be easy to forget all that."

"It might've been easier if your brother wasn’t so cold with me most of the time."

"He can be hard to love."

You snort. “You can say that again.”

“But he is good at heart. He may be harsh but that’s just because he never wants to lie to you or deceive you.”

“I know and that's all good and well but it's not exactly what a woman looks for in a husband. I wanted someone who would actually love me.” You fiddle with your nails, feeling stupid saying it even to Kai who has been nothing but understanding ever since you’ve met him.

"He cares for you a lot."

"That makes me feel so special." You reply sarcastically.

"It's just hard for him to love after all he’s been through but I think he’s getting there with you. He risked so much for you. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't feel anything for you."

“You're right.” You chew on your lip, seeing the truth in his words. "Then again, knowing how righteous your brother is, he probably would have rescued me anyway."

You both laugh halfheartedly at your joke, but it quickly passes and it becomes silent again.

“I should go. I have a lot to think about.”

“You do. Good luck.” Kai smiles and bids you goodbye.

You walk back to your room in a daze, not really paying attention to where you’re going or anything around you, your mind just swirling with questions that you don’t have an answer for.

Maybe if you had been paying attention, you might’ve noticed the man creeping up on you before he got the chance to grab you. But by the time you realize the dire situation you’re in, he already has one arm around you and a hand clamped over your mouth so you wouldn’t scream.

“I’m so sorry, my lady.” He whispers to you in a low, but familiar voice.

Jaeyun.

______________________________

A/N: God this chapter kicked my ass. Literally was like giving labor. Anyway, what do think of taehyun now that we’ve gotten a better look at his unique brand of fucked upness? What are your thoughts for the future?

Oh and the poem highlighted here was written by the lovely @smuchsmut with some edits from me so if you don’t like something about it that was probably my doing lmao. Thank you so much babe ❤️

#txt smut #beomgyu smut

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sylviaplatypus · 1 year

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honestly not sure how i ended up here

i mean, why not resurrect a barely used, decade-old writing blog for the anime show buddy daddies?

this is what happens when a formerly depressed human turned queer therapist-in-training decides to watch 2 hitmen and a baby as an escape during the last semester of graduate school: i end up with the kind of brainrot that leads me to spiral about the lasting impact of trauma on these fictional characters, and eventually think “what’s the deal with rei suwa’s mother?” then the next thing i know i’m accidentally spending the majority of my spring break writing a rambling rei character study about healing and growth and found family that i will almost definitely not have time to finish (even though i desperately want to lmao).

so here’s one of the scenes that i did manage to finish because i’m so dang soft for this little family that it’s borderline unhealthy:

He sleeps more peacefully on the nights when Miri demands that the three of them share a bed. She’s learned how to time it for moments when they’re both exhausted and feeling even more incapable than usual of saying no to her.

Rei likes it more than he’s willing to admit. Miri tosses and turns, her little feet digging into tender organs and her arms often splayed wide over both of their faces, but when she finally settles it’s almost always with Rei. Tiny hands clinging to his shirt or his hair, small body curled into his torso. The warmth of her thaws something deep inside Rei, and he never thinks twice about putting a protective arm over her, curving his own body back around hers like a shield. Behind him, Kazuki radiates a similar heat - reminding Rei of his constant, steady presence.

Rei had had glimpses of reprieve from the brutality of life as the Suwa heir scattered throughout his childhood. They were few and far between, and always fleeting: the soothing touch of his mother’s hand, the sound of her voice lulling him to sleep with a story. It took Rei a while to understand why she wouldn’t - or rather, couldn’t - save him from the boss, but he still felt bitter about it for a long time after. However, since Kazuki and Miri’s entrance into his life, those small moments of safety and love that she could manage to offer have begun to filter back into Rei’s memory.

She had come to him during some of those tormented nights as a kid, Rei remembers. When she could, when the boss was away on business and not there to see her doing what he viewed as her coddling him. She would sneak through the shadows to go unnoticed by the underlings the boss had tasked with protecting his bloodline in his absence and slip into Rei’s room. Sometimes she would find him already in tears, face pressed into his pillow to muffle the sound. Sometimes he would jerk awake with a scream in his throat to find her already sitting at the foot of his bed. She wouldn’t usually say anything - what was there to say? - but she would draw his head into her lap and thread her fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp until he drifted back into a less fretful sleep.

Of course, there were also reasons why Rei chose most nights to sleep in a cold bathtub with little, if any, comforts. He was telling Miri the truth when he said it was in case of an ambush, but not being able to sleep too deeply also ensured that he didn’t dream. Being sandwiched between the comforting warmth of Miri and Kazuki’s sleeping bodies, feeling safe enough to drift off into a deep sleep - some nights that didn’t end well for Rei. Thankfully, on many of those nights he had only twitched awake with a sharp gasp, barely disturbing Miri - who would mutter something about Papa Rei and sleep before settling again.

But on this night Rei finds himself trapped in a particularly awful nightmare. It’s a stomach-turning combination of real memories and his worst fears: a ten year old version of himself on his knees, begging and screaming while his father orders the murder of his family; watching helplessly as that dead-eyed creep Ogino levels a gun at Miri’s precious head, Kazuki already dead beside her.

He wakes violently - sitting up with a shout and flinging his body toward the bedside drawer where he knows Kazuki keeps a disassembled Glock. He hears Miri’s terrified scream and reacts without thinking. Jumping into a crouch on the bed, assembling the gun with smooth, practiced motions as he does, and pointing it toward the nearest source of movement.

“Rei!” Kazuki yells. His hands are thrown over his head, and he looks so frightened that it cuts through the haze of Rei’s panic like a knife. The gun lowers as his arms go limp, and Kazuki snatches it out of his reach, ejects the magazine before tucking it into the back waistband of his pajama bottoms. He starts to reach for Rei but pauses when Miri explodes into tears from the other side of the bed.

“Miri!”

Kazuki scoops her into his arms as Rei deflates further, all of the tension draining out of his body and replaced by concern at the sound of Miri’s hiccuping sobs. Each one feels like something sharp stabbing into his ribcage. He reaches for her without thinking. She cries even louder, and Rei snatches his hand back like he’s been burned. Kazuki looks wretched, torn between who to comfort.

“Just give her a minute,” he says. He gives Rei a meaningful look and stands with Miri in his arms. “We’ll be right back.”

The door clicks shut behind them, and Rei drops his head into his hands. He can hear the muffled sounds of Miri crying and Kazuki’s attempts to soothe her getting further away as they pad downstairs. Rei thinks they’re probably heading to the kitchen. The one foolproof way of getting Miri to calm down is usually food. They’re alike in that way, Rei observes distantly, then groans to himself.

He feels fucking terrible.

Why did he think he could do something like this right? A father is the person who saves you; that’s what Miri said in the park on the day when everything changed between them. That’s when he became her Papa Rei. He had heard those distressed cries, her pleas for him, as he stood waffling behind a tree and knew all at once that he couldn’t not protect her.

But now he’s the reason she feels afraid. He’s too fucked up to ever protect anyone. It’s a miracle he survived this long (and, if he’s being totally honest with himself, he knows that miracle is named Kazuki). He drags his fingers through his hair, gripping it at the base of his skull, and lets out a frustrated sigh. Really, it was only a matter of time before Miri realized what a piece of trash her Papa Rei actually is, how incapable he is at everything except violence and killing. She was always going to end up afraid of him, just like he was of his father.

Rei hears the sound of the refrigerator door opening downstairs, then Kazuki’s quiet voice. Miri’s higher pitched tone follows. Sure enough, she sounds calmed by the promise of yummy food. She sniffles occasionally, but seems to not be crying anymore. Rei leans back against the wall with his knees pulled up and his arms dangling loosely over them. He drifts in and out of time for a while, and eventually becomes aware of Kazuki sitting in front of him. Rei blinks a few times to bring him into focus.

“Hey,” Kazuki says. Something about his expression looks careful, but there’s no pity there. “You okay?”

Rei shrugs. It’s as honest as he can let himself be.

Kazuki nods like he understands. “Do you want to join us?”

Rei freezes and casts a nervous glance in the direction of the stairs.

“Does she?”

“Of course she does,” Kazuki assures him. “You scared her, but she’s okay now. She’s asking about you, and I think she’d feel better if you came down too.”

Rei draws in a deep breath and nods. He follows Kazuki out of the bedroom and down the staircase. Miri is sitting at the table, her short legs swinging while she colors. The tip of her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, and there is an empty plate and cup by her elbow. She looks up at the sound of their footsteps.

“Papa Rei, come sit,” she says. She doesn’t bounce out of her chair and into his arms like part of him had secretly hoped, but she doesn’t turn away from him either. She still trusts him, Rei thinks, and relief floods through his chest. He sits next to her, careful to give her enough space to come to him when she’s ready. She points to her drawing. “It’s you.”

A black-haired stick figure in a blue hoodie sits above a rectangle filled with colorful circles and blobs. Rei feels his throat tighten. Despite his efforts, his voice comes out a little raspy when he speaks.

“This is me?”

Miri nods and jabs a finger toward the paper again.

“Papa Kazuki said that sometimes you have scary dreams and it makes you sad.” Rei glances over at Kazuki, who gives him a sheepish shrug. “And I said we should make you all of your favorite food because that makes you happy, but Papa Kazuki said we don’t have all the ingre-dents, plus,” she pauses for an inhale and pitches her voice lower to imitate Kazuki, “’it’s the middle of the night.’ So I thought I would draw a picture of you with your favorite foods instead to make you happy. Do you like it?”

Rei touches the tips of his fingers to the drawing, feeling bits of waxy crayon shavings cling to them.

“I do,” he says. Miri smiles at him, and Rei can’t help himself. “Miri, I’m sorry that I scared you.”

Miri studies his face for a few long moments, and Rei gets the sense not for the first time that she is wise beyond her years. Without a word, she climbs over from her chair into Rei’s lap. He winces when her sharp elbow digs into his stomach and adjusts his posture so that they fit more comfortably. Once she’s settled, Miri looks up into his eyes with a serious expression and gestures for him to come closer.

Rei does. He would do anything for her.

“Sometimes I feel scared and sad, too,” she whispers into his ear.

Rei huffs a surprised exhale, and brings his arms around her without a second thought. She hugs him back for a second and then laughs a little.

“Papa Kazuki!” she says. Rei looks over to see Kazuki quickly swiping at his eyes. Miri pulls back and turns that serious expression on Rei once more. “He needs a hug too.”

Rei nods and stands with Miri. As they approach Kazuki, Miri stretches out her little arms and grabs him by the neck to pull him closer without trying to crawl out of Rei’s grasp. Rei startles for a moment. He thought that Miri was planning to give Kazuki a hug of her own, not that she meant for all of them to hug.

Kazuki appears to be realizing the same thing. He darts that familiar helpless, “oh well, what else can we to do” look that usually accompanies Miri demanding something they know will make her happy, and places an arm over each of their shoulders. Miri giggles and squirms as Kazuki presses exaggerated kisses to her cheeks and hair. Rei’s arms are full trying to keep the wiggling toddler from falling to the floor, so all he can really do is lean into Kazuki’s solid torso until the two of them are finished. Before Kazuki releases them, he gives Rei a quick but firm squeeze.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies fanfic #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #miri unasaka #kazurei #angst #comfort #part of a larger work that may or may not ever see the light of day

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 22 days

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Demons (4x23)

Amy gasps, jolting awake and upward in darkness. The ear piercing buzz of the drill slowly fades into the void of her subconscious. Oh God, another black out? Where is she? Her heart beats frantically through her chest as she fumbles for the bedside lamp. Flowered wallpaper, cream-colored curtains, David snoring beside her… right: her bedroom. Not back there.

Another nightmare. No, a memory.

Her teeth clench, thinking about the thousand ways she may have been hurt, violated years ago. Then she thinks about how many ways she was but doesn’t remember. Her stomach twists. Flashes of unseen hands poking, prodding, pinning her down haunts her in the light of day. But it’s during the dark of night when the remnants of bone deep pain and fathomless fear soak her sheets with sweat. Like always, her hands tremble when they instantly clutch her stomach and palm her face, soothing an invisible ache. When her tongue swipes instinctively across the arc of her soft palette, somehow anticipating the warm tang of blood pooling in her mouth, tears sting her eyes.

Every night it’s the same. Every night it’s worse.

Amy gets out of bed and walks downstairs, careful not to wake David. He too gets little reprieve from his own hellish abduction memories he’d much rather forget. A luxury Amy simply cannot fathom. Frustration at living like a blindfolded prisoner inside her own body is at an all-time high, amping up her anxiety and desire for knowledge of the unknown. She has never needed the truth more. But when her brain fails to provide details of her hijacked agency she yearns to recall, her body’s muscle memory built upon the bulk of buried trauma does it for her. That scares her more than any truth ever could. Because at least now the truth will not remain buried. At least she will finally know.

Amy swipes the sweaty tendrils of gray from her forehead and hisses when her finger nicks the fresh scab forming at her hairline.

Dr. Charles Goldstein and his innovative method of treating memory repression has been a true revelation. David refuses to dive any further than surface level into their murky past of bright lights and missing time. But, as her psychologist, Dr. Goldstein suggested she consent to this multi-session treatment to regain pieces of her memory, and Amy has reveled in it.

She enters the crowded sunroom full of her recent artwork of her childhood home by the lake. A place where she used to feel safe and happy. Where she’d spent her wedding night with David and woke up six weeks later on life support.

Amy settles in front of her half-painted canvas and presses play on her answering machine as the saved message from last night whirrs to life:

“Amy Cassandra, my name is Fox Mulder, I’m a Special Agent with the FBI. I’ve read the recent article in Abductee Magazine you were interviewed for about your experience years ago—in fact I’m looking at it now, and I’m interested in speaking with you in person. Uh… very interested, actually.”

Amy stares thoughtfully at the machine as the younger man on the other end clears his throat. His tone is soft, reassuring, and Amy can’t help but wonder if a child of her own would be as understanding about her past as this Agent Mulder is. If she could’ve had children, that is.

“…You mentioned a certain therapy you’d started that involved recovering repressed and buried memories. If you’re willing, I’d like to know more. I need to know more. For personal reasons. And Amy, I want you to know I’ll listen. Really listen. I’m sure many others haven’t before, but I will...”

Amy waits as the agent leaves his number and hears the desperation in his voice. She nods, her decision made, shouldering the corded phone attached to the wall as she dials. It’s either too early or this FBI agent screens his calls the same as David. Leaving a message, an olive branch is all she can do.

“Agent Mulder? This is Amy Cassandra, and I think I can help you…”

A predawn haze shines just enough light on her palette for her to dab out an array of acrylic in a rainbowed arc. Her hands itch to paint.

“Please delete this message after you hear it, but it’s true I’ve been slowly recovering flashes of voids or gaps within my past with the help of my psychologist. My husband and I— well, it’s been a tumultuous road to reclaim what’s been taken, but there’s so much more I must know…”

Amy anxiously grips a wooden brush and dips the bristles in vibrant green, thinking about what to say next. She paints her childhood home because it’s been the only place other than her resistant mind that holds the truth. As she speaks, the deep wound in her skull throbs, reminding her that that was true, until weeks ago when she’d traded the nightmare of one penetrating drill with the reality of another.

“And you’d think willingly having a hole drilled into your head would be crazy, until realizing crazy is your only option to be sane,” Amy huffs into the phone at the irony. She’d apologize for her eccentric ramble but she doesn’t feel sorry for the warning.

“Anyway…” Amy squints to shape the bend of the wind-blown tree just right along the canvas. Detail matters. It’s the details that complete the whole picture. The whole truth. The bad, the worse: all of it is what will save her sanity. “If you’re serious about knowing more, meet me at Dr. Goldstein's office in Rhode Island for my next session and you’ll see. Maybe he will help you remember your own truths...”

Art has always been therapeutic, but ever since the experimental therapy, painting has become momentous in bringing forth the evil lurking within her darkness.

“Maybe, Agent Mulder, it’s time to exercise your demons too.”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@monikafilefan

#all eyes lead to the truth #season four #s4 #4x23 #the x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #amy cassandra #mulder #scully #msr

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

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The Lans used to be conquers, before putting on a public facade hundreds of years ago to shift public opinion on them. Buying them the perfect time. Genuinely Dark! Lan Xichen and NieYao.

Jin Guangyao thought that Nie Mingjue would be the one to break first.

After all, he’d been a sect leader, and not just a sect leader, not just an honored general or an acclaimed warrior, but the unquestioned and even beloved ruler of his expansive and powerful family. To go from such terrifying heights to being little more than a prisoner of war – no, not a prisoner of war, for that suggested that there might be some reprieve, but a slave.

A pet. Beloved still, even cossetted and spoiled, but forever confined.

Surely, surely, such a radical transformation would be impossible to tolerate, much less for someone of Nie Mingjue’s righteous and choleric temperament. Surely the advantage lay with Jin Guangyao, who was accustomed to being at the bottom of the heap, a whore’s son with no power over his own life, who had had to build himself up from nothing more than once and could do it again…

Yet in the end it was Jin Guangyao that felt strangled by their new position in life, reduced to a much adored collared pet of the new tyrant of the cultivation world, Lan Xichen of the now fully ascendant Lan sect that had been gathering its power and developing plans of conquest for generations. It was Jin Guangyao that constantly tried to find ways to assert himself, to get information in or orders out, that tried to bribe the guards or escape or – or something. Anything.

Nie Mingjue, on the other hand, spent most of his time either sleeping, eating, or reading. Occasionally painting.

Jin Guangyao hadn’t even known that Nie Mingjue knew what a paintbrush was.

“I’m pretty awful at it, aren’t I?” Nie Mingjue asked cheerfully when Jin Guangyao, pushed to the end of his tether and beyond, confronted him. “It’s not even that fun, to be honest; I doubt I’ll keep it up. I just wanted to see what Huaisang was always blabbering on about.”

“What about Nie Huaisang?” Jin Guangyao asked, seizing on that. “Don’t you worry about what happened to him?”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him. “I know what happened to him – he’s with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, over in Lan Wangji’s fortress in the west. Quite happy, to all accounts. Xichen even said –”

“Oh, yes, er-ge said, so of course it must be true,” Jin Guangyao said bitterly. “Didn’t it occur to you that he might lie? The way, oh, you know, he lied about everything else?”

“Are you really still bitter about that? He was trying to conquer the world! Naturally he wasn’t going to tell us about it.” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes. “The Lan sect rules say, Have wins and losses. You shouldn’t take it so much to heart –”

“Did you really just quote the Lan sect rules at me?!”

“Why not? They’ve clearly worked out pretty well for them.”

Jin Guangyao snarled in frustration. “How can you tolerate this?”

“Because I lost,” Nie Mingjue snapped back, his formidable temper starting to rear its head. “I did everything in my power to stop it, but I still lost.”

“So now you just give up?!”

“Ah, what would you understand?! You’ve never been responsible for anyone other than yourself, not really, not as anything more than a transient job. Losing has always been a possibility, something I’ve had to face up to – do you know what the Wen-dogs would have done to my sect if they won? We’d be lucky if they left even the infants alive!”

“So instead you’re content to be conquered by the Lan?”

“Better the Lan than the Wen! My people are safe and well cared for, my brother is safe. Even I’m safe. For the first time since my childhood, I don’t have to worry about any of them. If I’m inclined to take some time to finally rest, there’s nothing wrong with that, and you of all people aren’t going to make me feel as though there is. So get lost!” Jin Guangyao gave up on him and stormed off. Maybe he could try again to bribe the guards…

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #alt headcanons #dunno if this really meets the prompt #but such as is

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fgooooooo · 9 months

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Leona comfort

Tw: mention of panic attacks, paranoia, anxiety

Sometimes you have paranoia. And sometimes you feel like you're intensely being watched by any open windows or any dark places. It leaves you vulnerable. It makes your skin crawl and you can't help but tense up. Your stomach drops and you hold your breath. There's a immountable pressure upon your chest. You know how terrifying the dark can be. When there's a light, you try to run and you can feel the adrenaline in your veins.

He knows your fears. He knows that when you go to him at night, you run and knock on his door frantically. He's used to it by now.

When he opens it up you're always shaken up and looking behind you as if you were to be attacked. That if you let down your guard for only a second, you'll be eaten away.

He's seen you have a panic attack in the dark before. You describe to him that it always feels like you're going to die any minute, where these irrational thoughts pour into your head; that when your flight or fight instincts come, you want to run but you can't move. You're frozen on the spotlight, the thoughts race in your head and you want to die. It's too much for you, it's so difficult to handle it. It's pathetic to feel so threatened by something so small. Almost laughable. You try to minimize your fears, to say that it's silly; that the chances of being attacked are almost zero. But it doesn't get rid of the pierce of fear that daggers into your heart every time you're alone in the dark. You're stuck. It's getting hard to breathe. You can't run because what if you run into an attack? What if you stupidly run into the enemy? All of these questions and all of these made up scenarios plague you as if to choke the life out of you. You know logically it won't happen. It won't, and yet your brain is controlled by this fear.

He knows, he understands. So the times you do visit him at night, he'll dimly light up the room. The light feels like a savior. Vanishing any hopes of your fears. And with Leona here too you feel safe. He gives you a towel and you wipe your tears and snot. You mumble out a thank you and sit down on the bed curled up. You feel numb. You cry sometimes about how childish and stupid it is, that no normal person should react like this but he knows what you've been through and doesn't consider it dumb. He tells you that many people fear the dark and that you're not alone in it, and that his place will be a reprieve for you whenever you need it so. He's never once kicked you out has he?

You cry.

But this time you cry in relief.

Wiping away the tears, you settle down, feeling the stress leave your body little by little, your form loosening and you can breathe a bit easier now.

For now, this is home.

#for me leona is the type to grumble and maybe insult you but he wont kick you off if you also try your hardest.#i wrote him more tender bc hes a big bro type to me. wont coddle you. but hes here for when you need help. for when its hard to life #hes platonic love to me but the reader interprets it however #whenever im feeling bad i just write about him . it makes me feel better #hope you enjoy #my art #twst #twisted wonderland #twst leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar

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twenty-thirty-two · 2 years

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Those Summer Nights

Bucky Barnes x Female!reader

a/n: this is something I quickly wrote, based on events from last night, minus Bucky. It was so cold last week and now it’s currently 89° RIP

Please understand that because I am 18+, I do not want minors on my page or reading my work

I do not consent to my work being reposted on other sites, translated, or copied

Ridiculous

Just last week it was below 40. It was so cold that once you stepped outside, you immediately regretted your decision. Now, it’s 83 degrees, with no plans of decreasing, only going up from there.

The jacket you wore just last week that kept you warm and safe from the rain was now hung up, traded in for shorts and a light shirt. You hauled out the mini fan from your closet last night as a reprieve from the sauna that is your room. Bucky had just finished brushing his teeth when he walked in on you trying to get the fan out without making too much noise.

“Sweetheart, what the hell are you doing?” He said laughing as he walked over to help you.

“I am not sleeping in here like this, it’s hot.”

You plugged the fan in and set it to the second highest settings and let out of sigh of relief as the cool air hit your face.

You toss and turn, despite the fact that you’re wearing the least amount of clothes, yet you feel as though you’re wearing a thick fleece pajama set. The moonlight creeps into the bedroom through the slit of the curtains, slightly illuminating the room. You look over and see Bucky sleeping peacefully, wearing only a pair of shorts, which is covered by the thin sheet you were using as a blanket.

You get up carefully, one of you has to get some sleep, rather it’d be him. As you tiptoe out of the room, you manage to get a glimpse of the clock: 1:29 am. You walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water, the streetlight casting an orange glow. The kitchen feels cooler, so you don’t rush back to the room, wanting to indulge yourself with some relief before settling back into bed.

Before you know it, you open the door that leads into the backyard and sit on the nearby lawn chair. The warm air and the slight breeze welcoming you as you look up at the starry sky.

Suddenly, you feel something cold pick you up and you turn your head to see a sleepy Bucky. He sits down where you once were and places you on his lap

“You okay?” Bucky says, sleep still evident in his voice, he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Yeah, just felt too hot and needed to cool down.” He hummed in response

“Come back to bed... I can’t sleep without you.” He whined, you shook your head in disbelief, your strong, super-soldier of a boyfriend was whining about you leaving him.

“It feels cooler out here, and the stars are really pretty tonight.” The two of you sit there, looking up at the starry night sky. You feel him place a light kiss on your shoulder.

You stay like that for a moment before you decide to head back to bed, sighing as your body hit the cold sheets. The soft whirring of the fan lulling you back to sleep. Bucky turns to face you, throwing his metal arm over your warm body. At the feeling of his cold hand, you let out a moan of relief, causing Bucky to let out a small giggle into his pillow.

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes #mel writes

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bylertruther · 2 years

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what do you think about will's line "you make [me] feel like [I'm] not a mistake at all" coming after the rain fight? he was devastated by the rain fight and thought of himself as stupid because of what mike said to him about not liking girls. he also destroyed castle byers because he was so hurt by mike's words. how does that fit into will's perception of mike as someone who has never made him feel like a mistake and who makes him feel better for being different?

(I really hope this ask doesn't come across as anti-mike or anti-byler bc I love mike and I love the ship so much, I'm just trying to understand how will's clear hurt after the rain fight and the distance from mike in lenora connects to the van scene and I'm asking you because you seem to have a good grasp on will's character)

warning: this is Extremely Long and i am Extremely Sorry, but the rain fight and what it means for their characters is one of my favorite things to talk about ever and so i have So Many Things to say abt it. sorry i lov u don't bite me pls.

no, i think it's totally fair to ask that! seriously, don't worry at all about how you come across. i don't agree with the idea that liking something = never acknowledging its flaws, so i'm always down to discuss stuff like this. i'm going to dive deep into my interpretation of the rain fight, because i feel i need to express that first in order to answer your question fully.

if i'm honest, back when it aired, the rain fight was what 100% struck down any microscopic crumb-of-a-crumb of hope that i had for byler in Any capacity, platonic or not. i finished the season and then didn't give a single shit about the show as a whole afterward, because i felt like it was such a slap in the face. not only to will, but mike, too, considering this is a character that's stood by will's side against all sorts of monsters, whether they were middle school homophobic bullies or eldritch monsters.

at the time, it was exceedingly difficult to reconcile the mike i loved and the mike i was seeing on screen, but i feel a little more clear on it now. i could be totally wrong, clouded by my own bias and perception, but here's how i see it all.

the rain fight hurt me more than anything in the entire show, because of how real it is and how neither of them are objectively wrong.

mike is in his very first relationship. it's shiny, exciting, and new. he's kissing all day, getting a rise out of authority figures, and having enough fun that he spends All of his time with her. it's not a serious relationship, but he's a kid, el is the first girl ever that isn't repulsed by him, they have an Insane trauma bond, and she's his "superman". it's not serious but it's Serious 2 Him, you know? he feels like a Big Boy now and he hides from his Very Bad Do-NOT-Touch-Or-EVER-Think-About Trauma behind this relationship. it makes him feel like he's moving forward.

will is feeling a similar sense of exhilaration and freedom. the gate was closed and the upside down has fled their world for good. hooray! he can finally be a teen again! he can finally be his version of Normal now, aka the will he was before the upside down! no more now memories, true sight, or fear that Something will come to get him, whether physically or mentally. he's a hostage unchained basically. it's summer, he has his party, and he just wants to have a good time with them. he just wants to be happy, live a little, and feel safe.

mike is seeking safety and reprieve in a girlfriend and will is seeking safety and reprieve in his friends.

but then...

mike's turning point:

mike is told that if he wants to continue to see el, he has to lie to her. so he does and then his Serious 2 Him relationship is over in a very unserious blink of an eye lol. he doesn't know how to win her back, because he doesn't actually know her, and he's understandably upset because he Wants To Have A Girlfriend Again because she's his Crutch.

he Needs her to feel Normal, but she does Not need him, which canonically makes him jealous. remember that this is something Super Important to his character, because having a girlfriend means he's Cool and Normal and Needed, which are more important than water and food to mike right now. i reiterate this, because that's mike's Entire Thing Since Forever. he Needs to keep up the act, because he doesn't like who he is without it as we learn in s4. he Needs it, desperately.

as such, this has him out of sorts and he seeks out lucas's help to win her back. we know mike, which means we know that he can get tunnel vision when he fears he might lose someone. so, this aggravates his already-negligent behaviors ("i was worrying too much about el" [paraphrased], "it's been like this all summer") and he turns into a Super Shitty Friend.

... i was going to go over will's turning point, but his journey is pretty clear, i think. everyone has a girlfriend and they all want to do girlfriend activities and they canonically forget about him in the process. he's there and yet no one sees him. ouch. lets fast forward to the fight.

will has reached his breaking point, because this campaign he's worked so hard on and is putting genuine effort into to make engaging for his friends is being treated like a joke. they're not laughing with him; his friends, his best friends are laughing at him. and that fucking Hurts. he's been trying to get them to do things they used to do, he's been trying to have fun with them in any capacity, and now that they're here... he's the fucking joke of the hour and they're quite literally jumping up and running at any opportunity to cast him aside.

so, you know what? fine. whatever. you guys win; i give up. have fun with the girls. i'm going home. lucas is shocked to the point of speechlessness at how upset will is, but mike immediately jumps into action. he softens, tries to go back to the game in earnest this time with lucas, and goes after him - almost trampling lucas - when his pleas are ignored.

will was invisible (to all, to mike) until he wasn't. (something about being careful what you wish for..?)

now, we fast forward again to the moment when will's heart is torn in two: "it's not my fault you don't like girls!"

first, let me say this: michael wheeler is a fucking bitch. we know this and we love him for it even when it hurts. that was a shitty thing to say, but... that does not make him The Shittiest Boy Alive, Ever. not even a little bit.

in season three, mike is a teenager behaving like a teenager. he felt ambushed by will's feelings and like it wasn't fair that this was all on him. ("you're the heart / without heart, we'd all fall apart"; again, the party is his responsibility, "but why is this all on me? why am i the bad guy?"; mike always has to be the leader, carrying the party on his back, but he himself doesn't get to unwind which is unfair in his eyes.) he isn't privy to will's journey like we are; he's caught up in his own world and his own shit, remember? he doesn't react super well, but will is yelling at him, very upset over something He Didn't Even Know He Was Doing All This Time ("you knew she was having trouble for a year and didn't tell me" aka this is where the "will doesn't tell mike the truth until it's too late" pattern begins), and telling him that he's the one ruining the party over some stupid girl, aka his (ex-)girlfriend, aka the girl that saved their lives, aka the girl that saved the Entire world twice so maybe don't call her stupid, will. (mike always sticks up for people, so of course he isn't going to react well to el being called stupid here, even by will.)

he shouldn't have said it, but mike is knee-jerk, cornered-animal reacting to will putting this all on mike's shoulders at the very last second after never having given him a chance to fix any of his actions. will bottled this all up and then exploded on him. of course mike isn't going to react well. of course he's going to put his foot in his mouth and say the first thing that comes to mind.

because in his mind, it really isn't his fault that will doesn't like girls lol. and it isn't HIS sole fault that the party is falling apart. not everything has to land on HIS shoulders. not everything has to be HIS responsibility.

he's a kid going through his own shit, that's lashing out at someone for lashing out at him first. it was shitty, it hurt will to his core, but i don't think mike meant to be cruel. he immediately backed down, tried to explain himself rationally (that they're all just changing and will should've expected that bc it's not like they can be the same kids forever), and then went after will (literally across town, on bikes, in the pouring rain and thunder, to his house and then to castle byers) to apologize.

he doesn't do this with anyone else—not even lucas or his own girlfriend. and when he does apologize? it's because someone is forcing him to, walking him through it, or because they did it first. mike doesn't ever make the first move or humble himself first... unless it's will. then he suddenly knows exactly what to do and what will needs from him. because he knows will and he listens to will.

everything that he did for will in that scene is precisely, word-for-word, what max told eleven that he'd do for her In The Same Episode just moments prior—but he didn't. he didn't!

he did everything he was "supposed to" without guidance or hesitation or headassery... for will.

when eleven confronts mike in season four and tells him he never says i love you, mike responds, very seriously, with "i say it." and you know what? i agree with him wholeheartedly.

mike loves will more than anyone. we're shown very clearly from the very beginning that the only person in the show that rivals his love, devotion, and loyalty for will is joyce. and will knows this! that's why mike is his bestest best friend! that's why he's hopelessly in love with him! because "max, dustin, and lucas, they're great..." but they're not mike! no one treats will the way mike does, and mike doesn't treat anyone the way he treats will! they're perfect for each other and will knows this! that's why he expected and wanted a future with mike!

and... he thought that mike wanted that, too. because THAT'S the crux of the rain fight. it isn't that will is gay. it's that will thought mike wanted Crazy Together, too! it's right there in the dialogue, what it is that they're really fighting about:

MIKE: I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never going to get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives? WILL: Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.

the fight is representative of an amalgamation of things and it cuts will's life into yet another before and after, but the point isn't that will doesn't like girls. the point was that will really thought it was always going to be them together—he thought they both wanted that; that that would be the one thing that never changed, even if they and everything else around them did.

when will is looking at a picture of them and saying "stupid.. so stupid" and RIPS IT DOWN THE MIDDLE BETWEEN HIM AND MIKE, with the memories that Start And End With Mike And His Voice Being The Focal Point, i interpret it as him feeling stupid enough to think that his feelings, his wants, and his dreams were ever reciprocated. stupid enough to believe that mike really did mean crazy together in every single way. that he meant it the way that will meant it and had always meant it.

mike is the one that brings up forever and will confirms it. he says yes, i did want that with you and i thought you wanted it, too. their argument ends there, because THAT was the real issue. You Got A Girlfriend And Replaced Me With Her; Something I Never Thought We Would Do To Each Other. THAT'S (!!!!!) the issue. THAT'S why mike looks so devastated afterward. THAT'S why he bikes in the rain to apologize. THAT'S why he looks so sheepish when will puts his dnd book in the donation box, why he's worried that Will Is Going To Replace Him With Someone Else!!! because their rain fight was about the fact that it was no longer him and mike against the world!! mike got a girlfriend and broke their unspoken promise!!

THAT'S why mike repeats "we're friends. we're. friends." at rink-o-mania, why he tried calling him all the time for Months (he felt like he'd lost will the same way that will felt like he'd lost mike last summer, their roles were perfectly and exactly reversed here), why he said that hawkins wasn't the same without him / there's no one like you, why he said they should be a team again (an Us, a We, Crazy Together; curiously after his gf breaks up with him lmao). it's the same fight all over again. "i lost you" / "i'm right here." + "friends... best friends." / "not possible." it's always about loss with these two.

that's why i feel like the rain fight doesn't contradict will's van confession. i think will's line of thinking is that mike can't help how he feels; aka, "i can't blame him for not returning my feelings / outgrowing our childhood love". and him not returning will's feelings doesn't make will feel like a mistake.

what made will feel like a mistake was his desire to go back to how things were and the realization that that was impossible. will tears down castle byers because it's too full of everything he once had and he learned the hard way that There Is No Going Back, There Is Only Going Forward. the theme of s3 is about change and will realizes this in the most heartbreaking way possible.

i hate the idea of anyone reconstructing castle byers, because the point is that will outgrew it. he can't hide through escapism in dnd or in castle byers. he has to build a life that he loves and feels safe enough in that he Doesn't Need a castle byers. (that's why s4 has him coming out of his shell wrt his sexuality and wanting to be open and honest about it as much as he can be with the ones that he loves and trusts, and he'll continue/conclude that journey in s5).

in season three:

mike learns that he doesn't Need eleven (see: how happy he was with will especially at the end, seemingly on good terms, and giddy still as he told el abt them coming over for christmas [note how he mentioned playing games in their basement for the rest of their lives in their fight vs how he's making plans to have them both over so they can play with their gifts {aka he's still thinking of will bc he Wants that future with him, too, deep down}]) ... until she kisses him, tells him she loves him, and then his brain breaks and all hell breaks lose again because the byers are literally leaving in just a couple minutes so how the FUCK is he going to deal with any of that, AND THEN in s4 when he does seem okay with being broken up with again he's then 1) reminded that she's his responsibility and 2) he needs to save her because if he doesn't then the world literally goes to hell and they all fucking die. so. yanno. that's tough. mike takes two beautiful steps forward and then gets pulled fifty steps back every time.

and will learns that hiding is not the same thing as living and that he needs to stop that if he wants to be able to move forward (see: "he's good at hiding", using dnd as an escape vs him giving away his dnd books + hopper's letter and the cave metaphor + being more open in s4 and wanting to "come clean" about being gay + the gay-coded advice he gives mike abt truth and fear).

mike definitely hurt him, but that's one moment out of a million where he's otherwise made will feel strong, loved, and capable, and will has told us that much himself more than once. will doesn't fault mike for wanting something else, someone else. he loves him without any expectation of it being reciprocated in that way.

he loves him, just because; because mike has always loved him and shown him a kindness and mercy like no other; because mike has known what he is and loved him anyway; because mike came to him and told him he didn't deserve anything after their fight, that hawkins wasn't the same without him, that the past year was weird without him, that he's more to mike than any of their other friends even after all this time, that they should be a team again as they face the end of the world together without superman's help.

because no matter what... they always love each other in a way that no one else does. even if will wants more than that, even if he aches with it, he still knows that what he has with mike is so special as it is. and that's enough for him.

mike didn't treat him any differently when their biggest concern was some mouthbreather calling him a fairy and he didn't treat him any differently after the upside down when everyone walked on eggshells around him, thinking he was about to break. mike has always treated him like a person that is strong and loved, and one sentence in the middle of a fight during a very stressful time for both of them doesn't diminish a history bursting with love.

i think what will fears isn't mike knowing he's gay, but mike knowing how will actually feels about him. i say this, because of the van confession and this line of will's in particular:

Sometimes I think it's just scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel, especially to people you care about the most. Because, what if… what if they don't like the truth?

this is played with the [tender, emotional music] which we know the sound directors used for intimate moments. will is also gauging mike's reaction here, giving him a searching kind of look, like he's testing the waters. will doesn't know this, but we as viewers know that this is a conversation about mike not being able to tell eleven he loves her. it isn't a reach to say then that will is talking not about being gay, but specifically about "how [he] really [feels]" about mike. that's what scares him: his unreciprocated crush, not his sexuality.

the duffers have said that will is trying to make himself be understood in the van scene and that will cries because mike doesn't get it. if he thought that mike was a homophobe, he wouldn't want to share this about himself. instead, mike makes him feel better for his otherness in all its shades. he wants to tell mike, because he wants to be honest with him and release some of that burden from his chest. but he's scared. he's so, so unbelievably fucking scared.

because, it's exactly as will says: "what if [he doesn't] like the truth?" what if that ruins the friendship that they just rebuilt? what if eleven finds out and then it's Even More Weird and Uncomfortable for everyone involved?

and considering how self-sacrificing will is... i feel like that's his other biggest concern regarding that entire clusterfuck. he loves them both. he doesn't want to hurt them or come between what he Thinks they have, because that'd be selfish and will isn't ever selfish even when he should be.

will's line about mike making him feel better for being different has canon support from season one and two. mike's outburst in season three is an outlier in his otherwise spotless record of loving will byers to an unhinged degree. even in season four, we see that mike never stopped reaching out to will. it was will who never reached out and mike was understandably upset about that, but even then he did try to include will afterward only to get iced out which "sabotaged the whole day" in his eyes. will didn't know this, though, and that's why he behaved the way that he did. still, will knows who mike is when he's not pretending and he wants mike to know who he is when he's not hiding. the rain fight hurt will indescribably, yes, but not because of the "it's not my fault you don't like girls" line in the way that it's understandably interpreted. so... i think it all fits together just fine.

#i could write essays on essays on essays on epic poems abt the rain fight bro don't get me STARTEDDDDDDDD #believe it or not this was me holding back 2 the point where i had to take so much out n try to condense it.#byler #byler analysis #asks #long post #mine

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