he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 17/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2100 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life.

***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

After Seungho has been thoroughly examined by the doctor, they get the news that Nakyum has been waiting to hear. His husband is expected to make a full recovery. It will of course take time, and he should remain at bedrest for some more days, so that the wound at his side and any internal damage the dagger caused may properly heal.

The first day or two, Seungho is fine being confined to his sleeping quarters, to his bed, when he sleeps much of the time anyway. He regains his vitality too soon though. For a man who is accustomed to an active lifestyle, to having all the liberties in the world, it is difficult to obey the doctor’s instructions, to keep still at rest. With each passing day, he gets increasingly impatient about the very prospect of leaving the bed.

It’s almost frustrating how stubborn Seungho is with his ambition to get up and move again. Fortunately, Nakyum is even more stubborn than his husband, especially when it comes to his health and well-being.

More than that, he is learning how to handle Seungho.

Whenever his husband tries to get up, tries to argue his case, Nakyum puts a hand on his chest gently pushing him back on the bed. He then takes the book from the dresser and asks Seungho to read for him, as he slips in the crook of his arm, head resting against his shoulder.

Seungho settles down at that – most of the time.

And when it fails, Nakyum tempts him into staying with slow and innocent kisses. Though, he does not dare to employ them too often, to tempt him too much so as not to accidentally hurt him in any way if things were to escalate.

For Nakyum at least, it’s thrilling enough to be kissing him at all.

When Seungho is finally cleared to start moving again, the first thing Seungho does is ask Nakyum for a walk at the garden. Nakyum is happy to indulge him, if only so that he can keep watching over him.

He helps Seungho to dress. Each clothing draped on him with careful hands. When he has laid the hat on top of his head, he leans up to press a quick kiss on his husband’s lips.

The moment is so eerily similar to the one where Nakyum had kissed his husband’s cheek on the day of the attack. He is chilled by the memories reawakened.

They are safe now though. They can be sure of it now.

He puts on his own outer clothes too, before they leave the room together for the first time in days.

They walk side-by-side, making their way towards the garden at the back of the residence. The ground is covered with fresh snow, but it’s not too cold. The sun is shining down on them from the cloudless sky.

Seungho is slower than usual in his moves. The wound must still be sore. His muscles and joints must feel stiff too from the days of bedrest.

 As they enter the garden, they settle for a leisurely pace. Nakyum lets Seungho set it for them, and he follows beside him.

They remain quiet for a long time. It is Seungho who finally breaks the hush between them.

“The day that – he came here,” he says quietly, “That day, I was supposed to meet him.”

Nakyum glances at Seungho, who appears so grim, so serious. His eyes are turned away from him, as if he can’t meet Nakyum’s gaze. He has his eyebrows furrowed, and there’s a subtle clench at his jaw, tightness in the line of his neck and shoulders.

“I didn’t wish to see him, even less I wanted to leave by your side, but he was threatening me,” Seungho’s voice turns rough, poisonous, as he recounts the events, “He said he would spread word of us, of me still laying with him as I did long ago.”

He stops walking, abruptly.

When Nakyum turns to look back, he is met by this pained look on his husband’s face. His eyes are dark, desperate, staring into his.

“I did not care for myself,” he says, “but I did not wish for you to be hurt by it, to be shamed in that way.”

Nakyum steps closer to him. He reaches out to take Seungho’s gloved hand in his. He squeezes at it, and he smiles, “It’s okay.”

“No, Nakyum, it’s not,” Seungho argues with the fire aflame in his eyes, “I left you alone with him. It’s my fault you almost –“

It’s only then that Nakyum sees how these events have devastated Seungho too.

The regret, the guilt, the hatred towards himself that this man must’ve held inside since that day. The way that he must’ve been punishing himself, unfairly.

Nakyum wraps his arms around Seungho. He pulls him close, and he whispers, “You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know,” Seungho concurs, his voice anguished, “I would have never left, if I had known. I didn’t know he only meant to lure me away on false pretenses so that he could come and -”

He doesn’t say the rest. He can’t. He doesn’t need to say more.

There are tears again in Nakyum’s eyes, but this time they don’t fall. There is no need for them anymore.

There may be misplaced guilt in Seungho’s heart, but he is alive, and Nakyum is too.

“It’s okay,” he says finally, “I’m here, and you are here too.”

Seungho holds him closer and tighter. He hides his face on the crook of Nakyum’s neck, and Nakyum lets him. He allows him to be there as long as he needs.

They remain standing there, wrapped in each other’s arms in the middle of the wintry garden, for a long time.

Nakyum is slowly soothing his hand down Seungho’s upper back, as he holds him.

He is quietly humming along a song that plays in his mind, when Seungho finally exhales a shuddering breath. His arms grow lax around Nakyum’s waist, and he pulls back if only a little, if only to look at Nakyum.

“I have acted so poorly towards you,” he lowers his eyes, “You were hurt again and again, because of me.”

Nakyum thinks back to the beginning of their union. He thinks of how he was hurt by Seungho then, by the way that his husband was so cold, distant, uncaring towards him when they barely knew each other. Seungho did act poorly. But, it was long ago, so much so that it feels as if it happened in another lifetime entirely.

There is no worth in looking back, in commiserating over past mistakes, even less when this journey they took together brought them here.

He moves his hand to Seungho’s neck and nudges his jaw so that he will look up, will meet his eyes again. When he says, he says the words that he knows to be true.

“No. I am alive because of you.”

Because, in Nakyum’s heart, there is only gratitude for what they have here and now.

 ***

 A week or so after their first outing, Seungho suggests that they go riding together. Nakyum doesn’t have the heart to talk him out of it, when he looks so alive already at the thought of it. He can’t ignore his worry though that the wound may not have healed enough yet.

He can’t hide the look of concern on his face either, it seems.

He sits atop of his horse watching over Seungho, who is readying his horse. When the man swings himself on the saddle, Nakyum almost forgets to breathe for a moment – until his husband looks back at him with a faint smile on his lips, as if to assure him of how he is fine, how he is still okay.

They ride out together.

When they get to the edge of the town, Seungho leads them to a road that Nakyum has not travelled before.

Soon enough, they find themselves in the depths of a large forest, just two of them together.

It snowed earlier that morning, so the branches of the trees and bushes are covered by a dusting of pure white snow. There is a small stream that runs alongside the road. It has frozen almost completely, only a bit of middle remains open where the water ripples over and past the rocks.

They haven’t talked much after arriving in the forest. They just enjoy each other, enjoy this peaceful silence around them.

When they get to a place where the small stream joins with two others and turns into more of a rushing rapids, Seungho steers his horse to the side of the road. He slides off from the saddle.

Nakyum does too. Following his lead, he ties the reins of his horse to a low-lying branch at the roadside. Seungho moves to help him as he does.

He then takes Nakyum’s hand in his and leads them closer to watch over the rapids.

In the middle of winter, there’s not much force behind its rush. The noise of it is nothing more than a wet rippling amidst the silence. Nakyum can only imagine what it must be like later in the spring, when the snow finally melts away, adding to its power that carries the water away.

Seungho turns to him, face as unreadable as always, “How did you know?”

“What do you mean?”

There is a moment of silence, of hesitancy until Seungho continues.

“You – told him of my feelings before I had yet revealed them to you. How did you know what I felt?”

Nakyum feels suddenly shy, when he catches onto the meaning behind the words. He can feel his cheeks warm with a blush.

They had kissed, but they had not spoken the words again since the moment they shared upon Seungho’s awakening.

Nakyum lets go of Seungho’s hand and moves away, avoiding his gaze. He sneaks over the other side, past Seungho, under a low branch of a large tree that sits on the embankment.

He glances back at his husband over the shoulder. His voice is coy and quiet, when he speaks, “Because you made me feel loved.”

Seungho follows after him. When he steps closer, Nakyum takes a step back and then another. His back bumps against the trunk of the tree. Seungho moves closer yet.

“How?”

“You made promises,” Nakyum says, “At our wedding, you didn’t, because – you had to, and because it was against your will. But – when I was hurt and afraid, you made promises to me then.”

He feels a twinge of pain thinking of it all. He is not hurt or afraid anymore though, even if his heart is beating still too fast, too hard.

When Seungho steps into his space, Nakyum lifts a hand on his chest. He looks up at him, and he is met by eyes that are intense, expectant.

Nakyum must avert his eyes. He lets them fall to Seungho’s robe, where his gloved hand lays. He feels vulnerable when he says, “When you promised to be there and to keep me safe, you made those promises because you wanted to make them. I knew it then.”

He is vulnerable, because a part of him isn’t as sure as his words claim, a part of him cannot believe it to be true, because he wants it too much, and he fears he cannot have what he desires so.

Seungho leans closer upon hearing the words. He places his forearm against the tree beside Nakyum’s head, and he all but caves in on him, head tipping against his shoulder. Nakyum is confused by his actions, until he hears it. Seungho is laughing, low, breathy and joyous.

When he pulls back to look at Nakyum, he is still smiling, so wide and bright. He lifts his bare hand on Nakyum’s cheek, the palm so warm amidst the winter chill.

“I do love you, Nakyum,” Seungho finally says, “I love you so much.”

Nakyum’s lips part with the amazement.

His husband loves him.

He truly loves Nakyum.

Seungho’s eyes fall on his mouth, and then, he leans in to kiss him.

His lips are warm and sweet on Nakyum’s. They are determined too, insistent in making him feel all of what he is feeling too.

Seungho presses against him, lightly at first, before he slips an arm around Nakyum’s waist to bring him closer. He kisses him a little longer yet. Nakyum can do no more than hold on to him and allow himself to be kissed.

It is with great skill that Seungho kisses him. It is no wonder that his actions leave Nakyum nearly breathless.

When Seungho finally pulls away, it seems as if he must force himself to do so. He remains close though. His arms stay around Nakyum, his forehead pressed against Nakyum’s.

Perhaps Nakyum is a little breathless. His voice certainly sounds so, when he says, “I love you too.”

They stay like that standing together, eyes closed, until they hear the noise above. When they look up, they see a pair of wild geese flying over their heads across the wintry sky.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 16/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2100 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life.

***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

The room is dim, with only a few candles burning. The sun has not risen yet, although the day is starting anew.

Nakyum is sitting on the floor of Seungho’s sleeping quarters. His eyes are aching, burning from how much he has cried, from how he has kept awake through the night, through the past two nights. And yet, the pain is nothing compared to the one in his chest.

He is staring at Seungho, who is still here.

He is lying on his mattress as motionless as he has been after. His eyes are closed, his head resting against the pillow. The thick blanket is pulled to the top of his bare chest. His cheeks burn red with the heat of his fever, but beneath that, he looks pale, sickly, the sheen of sweat glimmering at his hairline.

He looks rough, but Nakyum can’t stop staring.

Seungho’s chest is still rising and falling, but every breath is superficial. So shallow that it’s barely visible to the weary eyes watching over him.

Nakyum’s heart fills with fear again. It comes and goes, the fear that his husband is no longer there right beside him, living and breathing. Worst are the moments, when he thinks he is dreaming, when he thinks he imagined the movements of his chest, he imagined his survival, if this could even be called that.

He does now what he does every time that the fear takes him over, constricts his chest so hard he can barely breathe himself.

He shifts closer to Seungho, carefully, as if he is concerned of waking him up. It’s ridiculous really when it’s what he so desperately wants. Still, he is slow and quiet as he moves.

When his knees are all but touching Seungho, Nakyum reaches out a hand and places it on the top of his bare chest, slipping just under the edge of the blanket, where it’s warmer. He puts it there, because he needs to feel him.

He does. He feels the solid, steady beat of Seungho’s heart under his palm.

Tears brim to his eyes once more and roll down his cheeks.

There is a good chance that Seungho will survive. The doctor had told them as much. He had also said that the worst seems to be over, even if it will still take a long time for him to fully recover, if he ever will.

There is a good chance. It means though that it’s only a chance, it’s not sure. Nothing is sure.

Nakyum spreads his fingers where his hand still lies over his husband’s heart.

Seungho is still here. He is alive.

Nakyum lets himself cry once again.

Only when he is ready, he pulls his hand back. He moves it down to Seungho’s hand that is peeking from under the edge of the blanket. Carefully, he takes it in his and laces their fingers together.

He breathes between the tears, “Come back to me. Please, Seungho. I’m begging you now.”

Seungho doesn’t respond to him though. He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t do anything.

He can’t fault Nakyum for crying more either, so Nakyum lets himself cry.

There is no one to dry his tears, but he wouldn’t want anyone except his husband. But, Seungho can’t cradle him in his arms now, he can’t tell him that he is okay, that they both will be okay.

Nakyum is alone with his tears.

He watches over Seungho for a long time even after the tears subside.

It’s still dark outside when a sound from the door behind Nakyum startles him. He glances back. Seungwon has stepped into the room, his eyes lowered apologetically, so Nakyum turns to his husband again.

Seungwon walks over to Nakyum. He puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “You should sleep, Nakyum. The doctor said it could still take days until he wakes up.”

Nakyum shakes his head. He will not. He cannot leave Seungho. He cannot even sleep, for the fear of waking up to find his husband already gone from this world.

Seungwon sighs and sits down beside him.

They sit there for a long time in silence, side-by-side, both watching over the man they both hold dear.

“When we were children, we – went riding in the forest one day,” Seungwon begins telling a story, unprompted, “Father had of course forbidden us from going alone, but Seungho did not listen, and I worshipped him.”

The tears well in Nakyum’s eyes hearing him speak of his brother.

“We were not good at riding yet, or I was not. He has excelled in whatever he put his mind into from a young age,” he says with a light laugh, before growing more serious again, “I was stupid, trying to show off to him. I – got into an accident. I fell. I remember how he looked when he realized I was hurt. He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven at that time, if even that, but he had this determination in his eyes. Like seeing my tears then, he promised himself he would never let me get hurt again.”

The pain in Nakyum’s chest swells thinking of Seungho, hearing of his life before him, but he doesn’t want Seungwon to stop speaking either. He’d want to know everything there is about his husband.

“He got me back on my horse. He got on it too, and he raced us back home,” Seungwon shakes his head at the memory, “Father was furious. For getting me hurt. For leaving the other horse in the forest when he rode back. Seungho never said it was my fault. Not even when father beat him so severely that he was almost injured worse than I was. He never said –“

Seungwon only stops, when his voice cracks. Nakyum looks to his side to see tears streaming down his face, and he can’t help but cry too.

“I want you to know that I know what it feels like,” Seungwon says quietly, “To be loved by him. It’s the most remarkable thing. It’s the most painful thing too, because he will always – he will always choose to get hurt himself rather than let a person he loves hurt.”

Nakyum cries harder then. He squeezes his husband’s hand in his as he does.

He knows.

Nakyum knows that Seungho was hurt because he had protected him. His husband is lying in this bed fighting for his life because he took the stab of the dagger that was meant for Nakyum.

He did it because he loves Nakyum.

Nakyum knows it now, but he can’t think of it without the knowledge tearing him apart.

He turns his face away from Seungwon, to fool himself with the illusion of privacy as he cries aloud. His sobs ring clear in the quiet of the room.

When he closes his eyes, he remembers Seungho how he looked in those last moments. The way that Seungho had looked up at him, that he had smiled.

So beautiful, my love.

  ***

  Nakyum is alone sitting by Seungho’s side. He is leaning over him, gently wiping his face with a cool, damp cloth. It’s more out of comfort and connection than out of necessity.

It has nearly been five days since the attack, just shy of two since the fever finally broke.

The doctor is increasingly optimistic, and Nakyum has decided to be that too, because he refuses to accept any other outcome than a full recovery.

Still, waiting is painful. It is exhausting, but he will wait for as long as his husband needs him to wait.

He moves the cloth down on the bared skin, his eyes following in its wake. His eyes drift over his husband’s graceful neck, his strong shoulders, his firm chest. Seungho is perfection, every part of him is pure perfection. It’s his eyes though that Nakyum loves the most, that he misses the most.

When Nakyum looks back at them, the lashes seem to flicker once.

He thinks he imagined it, because he hopes so much – too much – for any sign that Seungho may be waking up. He keeps watching him though.

And then, they do it again, just a light movement that is barely perceptiple in the dim light of the room.

Still, Nakyum’s heart stutters. It hastens with the gentle hope rising within.

His voice is quiet, wavering, when he asks, “Seungho?”

His question is met by a groan, only a quiet, low murmur that surges from deep in Seungho’s chest. It’s so silent that it could hardly be heard even in the hush of the room.

Nakyum casts the cloth aside and leans closer, his hands lifting to cradle Seungho’s face. There are tears clouding his vision again, as he looks down at his husband.

“Open your eyes,” Nakyum says, his words rushed, his voice desperate, “Please Seungho.”

He does not.

There is no response.

The tears spill over. They roll down Nakyum’s cheeks. A droplet falls on Seungho’s collarbone and then another – and another, as Nakyum is leaning over him.

How many more times must he cry for this man?

“Open your eyes for me. Please.”

How many more times?

“Please, Seungho, I’m begging you now. I’m begging for you now,” he pleads, “Please come back to me.”

It is then that Seungho moves. It’s nothing more than a delicate twitch of his hand that has Nakyum glancing down at it. When he lifts his gaze this time, Seungho is slowly blinking his eyes open.

Nakyum cries harder. An audible sob escapes his lips, before he can swallow it down.

Seungho is alive.

He is waking up, because he is still alive, safe and well.

Without thinking, without waiting, Nakyum leans over to press a quick kiss on his lips, hands still cradling his jaw. His heart is racing in his chest.

The kiss is nothing more than a quick brush of the lips, but it’s everything, absolutely everything to him in this moment.

When he pulls back, Seungho’s eyes are still closed. It nearly makes him panic again, except there is a faint smile bowing those red lips that he just kissed.

Nakyum’s voice is so frail, when he speaks his name once more.

It has Seungho’s eyes opening again. When they do, they soon find Nakyum’s. It is as if he is all they were waiting to see, all they wanted to find beside him.

Seungho does smile then, looking up at him. It seems so eerily similar to how he looked in that time when he was dying, when he was lying on the floor and bleeding. It is similar, but now he is living. The smile only grows wider, stronger.

“You – kissed me.”

Seungho’s voice is deep, rough. It almost cracks with the disuse. It almost cracks under the weight of the words.

Though, to hear him speak now is like balm to Nakyum’s wounds, medicine to his pain.

The relief has tears flowing down at a steady stream Nakyum’s cheeks again. He can’t stop them.

The look in Seungho’s eyes softens, his smile wanes. He watches over Nakyum, carefully, quietly.

When he shifts his hand, Nakyum looks down at it. His finger is lifted, a wordless invitation. Nakyum places his hand over Seungho’s, lacing their fingers together, just as he had when Seungho had slept.

Nakyum’s eyes find their way back to Seungho’s.

Seungho smiles at him, “Kiss me again.”

And, Nakyum can’t stifle the wet laugh before he leans back to kiss him. This time his lips linger on Seungho’s mouth.

Even when he breaks the kiss, he remains there, only a breath away from his lips for a little longer. His eyes closed, he whispers the secret he has kept for far too long, because even a second is too long now when he understands how fragile life is.

“I love you,” he whispers, before pressing another kiss.

When he pulls back this time, he sits back on his feet. His eyes remain with Seungho, as does his hand on Seungho’s hand.

Seungho stares at him for a long time silently, amazed. Nakyum can’t help but blush under the unrelenting gaze.

When the words come, they are not merely a reflective response to Nakyum’s. They are true, they are real, they are for only him.

“I love you too.”

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 15/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2300 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life.

***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

Nakyum has settled down on the floor of Seungho’s sleeping quarters to paint. He is working on a delicate portrait of his husband, one that he has yet to reveal to him.

An expectant smile blooms on Nakyum’s face, as he hears the steps just outside the closed windows, leading towards the entrance of the house. It must be Seungho returning to him.

Nakyum gets up from the floor and rushes to greet him. His steps swiftly stutter to a still though, when he sees the man standing there by the closed front door.

It is not Seungho but Lord Jihwa instead. Nakyum is quick to recognize him, although his face is largely hidden by the shadows.

There is a moment of confusion as to why this man would be there at this time, in this way, uninvited and unexpected. Nakyum startles, as a sudden sense of dread hits him.

Something must’ve happened to his husband during the outing.

He takes a step closer to the young lord at the dim corridor, his eyes already searching for answers he doesn’t have. He cannot hide the rising panic that rings clear in his voice, when he asks, “Where is Seungho? D-did something happen to him?”

Jihwa remains calm though. He remains silent. Slowly, he begins to open the fastenings of his outer robe.

“I have not seen him myself today,” he finally says.

Nakyum’s brows furrow in further confusion, in pain and worry over his husband, “But, you heard something? Please, Lord Jihwa, if you know something, please tell me.”

“Seungho is fine,” the man assures him, as he slips his hand inside his outer layers, “You will unfortunately not be.”

Jihwa has taken a step forward, a step away from the shadowed entrance. The look on his face is serious, deadly, his appearance haggard, as if he has barely slept for nights, as if he has wasted days drinking and smoking in great excess.

He does not look like the man Nakyum had met before, although it is him.

It takes a moment for him to notice that Jihwa is holding a dagger in the hand he pulled from inside his robe. The blade of it gleams in the dim light of the room.

The beat of Nakyum’s heart picks up at its pace, as he struggles to understand. When he moves, he acts on pure instinct. He takes an unsteady, panicked step back, but as he does, Jihwa takes another more determined step forward.

“Nameless warned me that a dagger makes things messy, that’s why he didn’t want to use one on you. Not when it needed to look like an accident or a suicide,” he says, “This is the only thing that I have though. This is the only thing that is sure.”

It is with those words that the grim reality of his situation is fully revealed to Nakyum.

It must be Jihwa who has been trying to have him killed.

The poisonous snake, the drugged horse, the strong hands of the unfamiliar man, they were all only weapons, as is the dagger in Jihwa’s hands now.

Nakyum’s heart is beating wildly in his chest. He sways on his feet, as the rush of panic, of fear in his veins has him feeling dizzy. He shakes off his hands, because he can’t stop them from trembling. He is weak already.

Standing there, he remembers how it was with Mr Kim and the man who attacked him. He remembers what he thought then.

A man with only hands and fists is no match against a man with a weapon.

There is no escape this time, there is no fight either.

As Jihwa said, a dagger is the only thing that is sure.

Nakyum doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He says the only thing that is in his mind.

“Why?”

Jihwa laughs, shifting on his feet. It sounds hollow, bitter, not like a real laugh at all.

Nakyum doesn’t understand why Seungho’s friend would want him hurt. He understands it even less, thinking back to their previous encounters at the wedding, at the street. Jihwa has only ever been kind, friendly to him, and Nakyum has only ever been the same to him.

There is no sense, no reasoning for this.

The other man moves then. He takes another step forward, closer to Nakyum. They are still at a distance, but less so.

It is then that Nakyum notices that Jihwa’s hand is shaking too, the one that is holding onto the dagger. It is not fear, it cannot be, as this man has nothing to fear.

“You took something that is mine,” Jihwa says, his words sharp, his voice scorched by the burn of the barely contained fury within, “I’m just taking it back.”

It’s something in the words, in the tone that reminds Nakyum of a moment already forgotten. He thinks of the conversation between Seungho and Jihwa in the courtyard, the one that Nakyum overheard. He had not thought much of it then, because he did not understand it, not like he does now.

Seungho and Jihwa are not friends.

They are lovers – or they were, until Seungho rejected Jihwa.

The realization dispels some of the fear within, not because the threat is gone, but because Nakyum knows, he understands.

He realizes it then.

He knows more than Jihwa does.

Nakyum lifts his chin a little, his eyes still on Jihwa’s.

The fear has not completely left him. He will not cower for this man though. He will not kneel down for him, even if he asks.

He will accept death if he must, but he will not have his heart filled with fear, with anger and sorrow in his last moments.

He will not, because he has what Jihwa does not.

Fist may be useless in a fight against weapons, but words are not. Neither is this absolute trust, confidence in something grander than words. Neither is this feeling inside.

He decides.

Even if he loses, he will have spoken his truth. He will have spoken aloud the words he has yet to admit even to himself.

Nakyum looks at him for a moment longer in silence, before he speaks.

“You can kill me if you wish,” he says, his voice surprisingly smooth, steady, “You can, but you will still not have Seungho.”

Because Nakyum has him.

He can’t help but smile at the very thought.

“No, he is mine!” Jihwa argues, stepping forward again in his agitation, “You don’t get to have him!”

Nakyum stares. He stands still, because at the end, there is no fear. There is only love, the one that he and Seungho feel for each other.

He can be sure of it now, after everything.

Nakyum has him.

He will have Seungho forever.

“He won’t be yours, even when I’m gone,” Nakyum says calmly, “He will forever be mine, because he loves me.”

The words have Jihwa losing control, lunging towards Nakyum who closes his eyes in the face of the attack.

A shout from the door rings in the room, “Stop!”

  ***

  Nakyum stares at Seungho, who is standing opposite him. His arm is extended, his sword pulled out from its sheath. The tip of the blade is pointed at Jihwa, who is on his knees on the floor between them, still holding onto his dagger. Nakyum cannot see anything, anyone other than Seungho though.

Seungho is standing tall with his chin lifted and his eyes cast down upon Jihwa. The features of his face are serious, but there is fire burning in his eyes that is intense, dangerous.

“Nakyum is my husband,” he says, his voice hard and commanding, “He is my husband.”

Even from where he is on his knees, Jihwa can’t accept it. He argues back, “You promised me.”

“I did not make a single promise to you,” Seungho says louder yet, “I made my promises to Nakyum. I promised to keep him safe. I promised to be with him.”

Jihwa turns his face away, looking to the side. The tension in his shoulder drops, as if he is slowly giving in, slowly releasing his fight, slowly accepting his defeat.

Seungho remains where he is, holding his sword at Jihwa. He looks so strong and so powerful at the face of everything. He is an unwavering wall, as he watches over Jihwa.

It is so clear to Nakyum now, even more than it was before. Even if these two men were lovers once, there is nothing there now, nothing anymore, nor would there ever be. The remainders of his fears, of his uncertainties fall away.

“I cannot be yours, I could not,” Seungho is staring down at Jihwa, “Nakyum is right.”

Nakyum’s heart stutters in his chest, when Seungho lifts his eyes to meet Nakyum’s. When he speaks, his gaze, his tone is deeper, softer than it has ever been.

“I love him. I will only ever love him.”

The words steal breath from Nakyum’s lungs. He feels suddenly light-headed hearing Seungho’s admission.

To know someone loves you is one thing; to hear them say it is another.

To hear Seungho say it to him now, for the very first time makes it real, makes it undeniably true in a way that it was not before.

Nakyum feels it too, this warmth that blooms in his chest and spreads to every corner of his being.

He doesn’t return to himself, to the moment at hand, until he is startled by the loud clatter that shatters the silence. The dagger has dropped on the floor.

Jihwa is still on his knees. He is shaking his head minutely, his eyes cast aside.

Seungho’s attention has returned to Jihwa. He lifts the arm holding his sword where it has sagged. He lifts his chin too.

There is no fight in Jihwa though.

Seungho glances at Nakyum who is standing frozen a few paces behind Jihwa in the corridor. He quickly shifts his gaze back to Jihwa.

“Nakyum, go and get my father and brother,” Seungho says, his eyes never leaving from Jihwa, “Go now.”

Nakyum does.

He carefully passes Jihwa and then Seungho, hurrying his steps. His heart is racing in his chest again, as he is pushing himself to move, to act on Seungho’s words.

He is just passing his husband, as he hears noise from behind. When he turns to look, Seungho has already moved between him and Jihwa though.

Nakyum steps to the side only so that he may see.

Jihwa is still crouching down on the floor. His hand drops limp to his side. The blade of Seungho’s sword has pierced into his chest. He is staring up at Seungho with a look of surprise, of horror on his face. He slowly crumbles to the floor, sliding off the sword.

Looking at Jihwa’s lifeless body, blood slowly staining his clothes and pooling around him, Nakyum takes a tentative step forward, confused as to what happened. He feels himself shaking, trembling, as the fear overcomes him once more with the suddenness of what transpired. He takes another step.

When he looks to his husband, he realizes the man is swaying on his feet.

It is then that Nakyum sees the dagger. It no longer lies abandoned on the floor. Instead, it is lodged to Seungho’s side, below his ribs.

The sword falls from Seungho’s hand, as his grip can’t carry it anymore. It has Nakyum rushing to his side, only to catch him just as his legs lose their strength too.

Nakyum cannot keep his husband from falling. He can only slow down his descent. His arm is cradling Seungho’s head, another hand useless trying to hold onto him, as the man collapses to the floor.

Nakyum goes down too. He falls on his knees beside his husband.

Looking down at Seungho, he lifts a trembling hand towards the dagger, but he pulls it back before touching it. It is still there, where the blood is slowly seeping into his robes.

A wave of panic, absolute terror overwhelms him. Hot tears spring to his eyes in an instant, clouding his vision. He tries to blink them away, hopelessly. He looks up and around him, and he shouts for help.

No one listens, no one answers.

Still, he shouts again into the silence.

When he glances down, Seungho is already staring at him. He is looking up, examining his face, as if he is seeing Nakyum for the first time. His eyes are open but hazy.

Slowly, he lifts his hand to touch Nakyum’s face, the fingertips grazing his cheek.

The simple touch twists at Nakyum’s heart, as does the tender look in his eyes.

A faint, sweet smile rises to his lips. He blinks, staring at Nakyum, as he speaks the breathy whisper, “So beautiful, my love.”

The hand sags against Seungho’s chest then, as he can’t seem to keep it up and steady.

When Seungho closes his eyes then for a moment too long, a sob escapes from Nakyum. His hands hurry to hold Seungho’s face.

“No, Seungho, no,” Nakyum cries, when Seungho blinks at him, his eyes hazier yet, “Please, Seungho.”

Seungho closes his eyes again, and this time they don’t open.

Nakyum shouts for help, he shouts as loud as he can before turning back to Seungho. His tears are falling faster now, the tightness in his chest squeezing harder.

He vaguely hears the rush of muted footsteps just outside the house, but he cannot see anything else but Seungho, he cannot pay attention to anyone else.

Seungho is lying on the floor, his eyes closed and his face deathly still.

“Please, Seungho,” he pleads, his hands caressing Seungho’s face, “I love you too. Please don’t leave me. Please.”

Seungho shifts under his hands as if he had heard the words. He does not open his eyes though.

Nakyum leans down to press a kiss on the lips.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 14/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2200 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

It’s over a week since the attack.

Nakyum is having late lunch together with Seungho and his brother in the common room. Their father is absent, but Nakyum may even prefer it so. It may be easier so, given that he is only now coming out of his seclusion.

Seungwon is kind, and he is sensitive to Nakyum’s limits. He doesn’t press on Nakyum. He doesn’t expect him to talk, even if just to participate in the conversation.

It’s Seungho though who brings him the most comfort, safety.

He had escorted Nakyum to the main house, his hand light against his back. When Nakyum sat beside him at the table, he had moved closer, close enough that their knees are almost touching.

He doesn’t look towards Nakyum as Seungwon does, but the man is wholly aware of him. At the slightest sign of distress, he would be right there, with his tender voice and gentle touch.

Nakyum doesn’t even need to reveal his needs, and Seungho displays great care towards him.

When Nakyum empties his cup of water, it is Seungho who fills it. He does it himself, instead of calling for a servant. He does it even before Nakyum had even thought to ask for more.

He is abundantly attune and attentive with Nakyum’s every need, or so it seems.

It is no surprise that when they are returning to the sleeping quarters, Seungho senses that something is wrong with Nakyum.

Nakyum’s steps slow down entering the house, before they stop completely.

Seungho looks to Nakyum, but Nakyum’s eyes are focused at the closed door of his own room.

He has not been there since the attack, nor does he have any desire to go there now.

“Is something wrong?” Seungho says, concern clear in his voice.

“No,” Nakyum says, shaking his head, “No, nothing.”

He pushes ahead, passing Seungho and walking into his sleeping quarters. He removes his outer clothes, and he puts them into the cabinet. It is almost half filled with his clothes now that they are sharing the room, that his servant has brought his clothes to him, piece by piece when needed.

When he turns to face the room, Seungho has already taken off his hat and placed it on the dresser. He is removing his outer robe, quietly observing Nakyum.

He moves closer, when he puts his robe in the cabinet too.

Nakyum stares past him, beyond the open door at the one across the corridor. He remains silent in doing so.

Perhaps it’s why Seungho turns to him then.

He takes Nakyum’s hands in his to gain his attention, and he looks down at him. His eyes are serious and intense, but they still carry a lingering sense of concern.

“Do you – need something from there?”

Nakyum jolts hearing the words, his eyes widen a fraction. He knows it is no mystery where his gaze was drawn, but he is still surprised by how his husband can read him with such ease.

He quickly lowers his gaze though, feeling ashamed.

He should’ve asked his servant, if only to avoid this moment, avoid being a bother to his husband.

But, then his gaze falls on their joint hands, the tender way that Seungho holds him, as if he is fragile, as if he is treasured.

Nakyum had decided to trust his husband, because he is worthy of the trust, he is worthy of much more.

Perhaps he can trust him with this too. Perhaps he can trust that he is asking because he wants to do things for him.

Nakyum’s voice is quiet when he speaks, “There is a straw case on the dresser with my brushes for painting and some paper beside it. I’d like to have those, if I could. And –“

He stops and hesitates.

Seungho doesn’t push him when he stalls. His thumb brushes over Nakyum’s knuckles as he waits patiently.

Nakyum swallows.

“In the top drawer of the dresser, there is a piece of fine cloth. I -”

He can’t give a further explanation. He can’t tell what it is, what it means to him, because there are still things that Seungho doesn’t know.

Seungho doesn’t expect more though.

He squeezes Nakyum’s hands, “Will you be okay here on your own while I get them for you?”

Nakyum nods quietly, his eyes still cast down.

“I’ll leave the doors open so that you can see me,” Seungho says, his voice soft but serious, “And I want you to call for me, if you need me here.”

Nakyum nods again.

Seungho releases his hands then, and he walks out of the room.

Nakyum goes to the dresser to light some more candles, as the day is already starting to grow darker. He does it so that he can have something to do while he waits.

He doesn’t need to wait for very long.

Upon his return, Seungho sets the straw case and the papers on top of his dresser before he turns to Nakyum. He takes Nakyum’s hand in his, palm up, and he places it there, the last thing he requested.

When Nakyum lifts his eyes, Seungho is already staring at him, his eyes serious, sincere.

“I didn’t look.”

He doesn’t elaborate, but Nakyum knows what he means. Through the fine fabric, it’s easy to feel that there is something hidden in the folds.

Nakyum’s feelings set alight with his husband’s words.

The show of utmost respect in getting what Nakyum requested him to get and not asking questions, it means so much to him.

When Seungho takes his hat to put it in the cabinet and returns to the letter he was writing earlier on the other side of the room, Nakyum stays standing by the dresser, his back towards his husband.

He pulls back the cloth. In its folds, there lies a simple bracelet, made of small wooden beads in various colors that are strung in a frail threat. It’s nearly as old as he is, if not older. It’s the only memento that he has of his birth mother, wrapped in a cloth his adoptive father gave him.

He puts the cloth back over it, and he carefully places it in the drawer that Seungho had emptied for him.

Maybe someday, he could trust his husband with the story of his birth mother too. Maybe he would accept him even when he would know all his secrets. Until then, he can have this, a newfound closeness and affection towards his husband.

When he closes the drawer and turns to look at Seungho, he looks at Nakyum too, a faint smile playing at his lips.

It isn’t a smile like he saw in that dream in what he thought were his last moments, where Seungho had ridden ahead of him in the dusty road, a smile that blazed brighter than the sun above.

It’s still a start.

Nakyum smiles at him too.

 ***

 In the days that follow, Nakyum does not allow himself to dwell on the threat still looming over him. There is little he can do anyway. He can only put his trust in his husband, in him keeping Nakyum safe.

He does feel safer that Seungho knows. He feels safer now that Seungho is so relentless in his care.

Nakyum is rarely left alone.

He still sleeps beside Seungho in his sleeping quarters at night.

It feels new and exciting to be sharing the bed with his husband, as the pain, the fear and the memories of the attack fade. It feels old and comforting too, as if this is how they have always been. It feels as if it is where he belongs, being held in Seungho’s strong arms

During the day, Seungho often keeps Nakyum company.

They pass time talking, reading books, walking in the garden of the residence when the weather allows. With Nakyum’s secret passion for painting now revealed, Seungho has insisted on Nakyum taking time to pursue his art. He has insisted on watching him paint. And, whenever Nakyum paints, he does watch – with such careful attention that it makes Nakyum squirm. It makes him blush to have his husband’s attention so.

When Seungho is not with Nakyum himself, his brother is. It’s heart-warming to see that despite his complicated relationships with his family, Seungho trusts Seungwon. He has faith in his younger brother, in his ability to keep Nakyum safe.

Nakyum doesn’t mind Seungwon’s company, so he does not reject him when he comes to call on him on this grey winter day.

Seungwon stops at the door of Seungho’s sleeping quarters. He does not enter, nor does he take off the bundle of warm outer clothing.

His smile is wide, friendly, when he says, “I thought to see if Nakyum might like to join me for a walk in the garden.”

Nakyum knows the thought did not arise in a spur of the moment.

Seungho had mentioned during lunch how he must leave the residence to handle some matters at the town. He must’ve asked Seungwon to keep Nakyum company in his absence. It is why Nakyum agrees to the invite easily, scampering off the floor where he had been lounging next to Seungho, against him.

Seungho glances at him, with a look that can only be called fond, amused, when Nakyum walks over to the cabinet to get his thick jacket, if only to hide his pinkening cheeks.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your husband seeks to escape you, brother,” Seungwon teases his elder brother.

With a sly smirk, Seungho responds in kind, “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you are trying to steal him from me, brother.”

Seungwon laughs, as he bows at them, stepping outside to wait for Nakyum.

It is of course only banter between the brothers, as there has been talk of Seungwon possibly marrying a certain young noblewoman from town. She has already caught his fancy, as far as Nakyum knows.

When Nakyum finishes dressing himself in his outer clothes, Seungho walks over to him and takes his hands, gazing into his eyes.

“Will you be okay?”

Nakyum nods, and – before he can think too much, he leans up to press a kiss on Seungho’s cheek and rushes away.

As he is leaving the room, he can’t help but steal a quick glance of Seungho from the door. The image of him standing there, staring after him, with a look of shock on his face and his hand raised to the cheek that Nakyum’s lips touched, stays with Nakyum even after he steps out of the house.

His lips tingle, and his cheeks must be flushed red, when he joins Seungwon outside. If the man notices it, Nakyum doesn’t know. He is too dazed from the boldness of his act, from the feel of the smooth skin under his lips to be awake of anything else – if only for a moment.

He shakes his head at himself, at his own silliness.

Nakyum looks ahead, as he falls into a step beside Seungwon, walking side-by-side towards the garden at the residence.

Seungwon is the first to speak.

“You seem closer,” he notes, “Happier together. At least Seungho does. I suppose you do too.”

Nakyum hums in a wordless agreement.

“It’s – odd seeing him like this,” Seungwon says after a moment, “I don’t think he has ever truly let himself get close to anyone after our mother died.”

Of course, Nakyum had heard of their loss before. He just did not know that it had devastated Seungho so.

Still, he can’t ignore the thought when it comes to him. His voice is quiet, for he feels frail for asking.

“Not even – the man for whom he had affections for?”

Seungwon looks at Nakyum. He undoubtedly knows what Nakyum means by the words, for there is only one person he could mean.

“No, not even him,” he finally says, “I’m glad, though, to see Seungho be like this with you.”

Nakyum looks down, hiding the shy smile that is tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I am glad too.”

They walk and talk for some time, until they get too cold.

Seungwon walks Nakyum over to the house where Seungho’s and Nakyum’s sleeping quarters reside, his own being in another house at the residence. He turns to Nakyum, when they reach the steps of the house.

“I don’t believe Seungho has returned yet,” he says, his words hesitant, “I can accompany you inside.”

Nakyum looks down, “I-I think I could be on my own.”

He isn’t afraid anymore, not like he was. He can’t have someone attending to him at all times for the rest of his life either. He must learn to be by himself again. He thinks he can.

Seungwon steps closer to him and asks quietly, “Are you sure?”

Nakyum lifts his eyes to meet Seungwon’s. He nods and smiles.

They bid goodbyes, and Nakyum walks inside the house with Seungwon, looking after him.

Inside, he stops at the door.

Alone for the first time in days, his heart picks up pace without needing to do so.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Of joy and devotion

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: E

Word count: ~2 900 words

Story summary: Seungho feels so much for Nakyum now when he allows himself to feel.

This is the third part in a series Of love, devotion and gratitude.

Read below or on AO3.

---

When Seungho first awakens, it’s far early in the morning. A deep, murky darkness has settled into his sleeping quarters, as the sole candle he left burning has burned out on its own. It’s silent, as the rest of the residence, the world is still sleeping.

It’s cold outside, he knows, the ground blanketed by the thick layer of snow now that the winter has truly come.

Here in the room, under the heavy blankets, it’s warm and cozy though.

Here beside the man he cherishes, it’s warmer yet.

He turns to his side, curling against Nakyum who is still fast asleep. He pulls the covers higher and tuck them in carefully around him, around both of them, before he wraps his arms around his small frame.

Seungho is lying beside him, behind him.

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against the nape of Nakyum’s neck. His hair is slightly longer now, pooling freely onto the pillow, even if it still leaves his neck bare. He lays a gentle kiss there, just above the collar of his sleep shirt.

As Seungho moves to wrap his arm around his small frame, he slips his hand under his shirt, snaking its way up so that it may rest against his chest, over where his heart resides.

It’s not sexual the way that he touches him now, because it is not about sex.

He wants this connection between, the feel of skin to skin, the feel of his heart beating steady and strong under his palm. He wants to feel him there, real and warm and so horribly cherished by him in his arms.

They had made love the previous nights with Nakyum sweetly gasping his name. While the thought, the memory of it, stirs Seungho, he doesn’t let himself rouse at it.

As much as he likes the physical side of their relationship, he loves this more.

In the hush of the room, he listens to Nakyum sleep soft and unguarded beside him, his breaths deep, even. When Seungho snuggles closer to him, Nakyum presses against him too.

It’s fully instinctual the way that he responds to him now.

It tugs at Seungho’s heart strings all the more the way that it is.

He lays another whisper of a kiss on the back of Nakyum’s neck, before he rests his head against the pillows.

He falls asleep again too not long after.

 ---

 After lunch, Seungho suggests they’d go for a walk at the garden at the back of the residence. The way that Nakyum’s face lights up is enough of an answer for him. There is no need for words.

Seungho moves closer to help Nakyum bundle up in his outer clothes again.

Nakyum could of course do it himself too, but he readily accepts Seungho’s service, his care and attention. It is as if he understands that it is just another thing amongst the myriad of obscure ways that Seungho needs to express his feelings. And, it is.

His fingers flit over the fastenings of his jacket, over the scarf around his neck, ensuring that there is not a sliver of exposed skin.

After he has laced the strings of the bonnet under the chin, Nakyum looks so adorable that Seungho can’t help but kiss him.

He loves this man so much.

Nakyum blushes and looks away, as he says quietly, “I love you too.”

Seungho looks at him with a wondrous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. How lucky he is, how blessed. He is so horribly undeserving to be so lucky to have this man, to hold him as his own.

To hide the rush of emotion, he moves aside to dress himself too.

After, they set on their way.

The air is cold, nipping at the cheeks already upon the first step outside. The day is grey and dull, but the white blankets of snow make it feel less so. It is good to be outside, with Nakyum by his side.

They quickly fall in step, walking side by side and talking in starts and stops.

They talk of nothing that is much of significance.

They talk of the gossip Nakyum heard at the town, of the book Seungho has been reading him past nights, of the painting Nakyum is doing for a noble couple at town, of the travel Seungho must embark on in a month’s time if the weather allows.

When they run out of things to talk, they just walk together silently.

The sun is just beginning to peak from behind the veil of clouds in the sky, illuminating all the white around them.

“It really is beautiful here,” Seungho says.

Seungho is staring ahead at the fine scenery of the quiet garden. He turns to his side, reaching out to touch the stretching bare branches of the small pear tree that stands bold but dormant at the cold of the winter. Nakyum loves the sweet flavor of the fruits it bears.

He doesn’t realize that Nakyum has fallen behind, he doesn’t stop walking until he feels the muted thump against the center of his lower back.

He frowns, his hand instinctively reaching for where he felt it, as he turns on his heels.

Nakyum is standing at a distance from him. His mouth is curved into a faint smile, as he bites his lower lip. His hands hover in front of him, the mittens covered with a dusting snow. There’s an impish glint in his eyes, as he stares at Seungho.

It takes a moment for him to understand. He doesn’t fully believe it until he sees his own gloved hand with the traces of snow too, having wiped it off his back.

“Did you just - ?” Seungho begins to ask, incredulous.

When a wicked grin spreads on Nakyum’s face, it’s the only reply he needs.

He had thrown a snowball at Seungho when he wasn’t looking.

Seungho can’t help but smile too at Nakyum’s, staring straight into Nakyum’s dark eyes. He can’t help but grin, although his lips twist into something much more mischievous than Nakyum’s.

He takes a step forward. His voice is dark and threatening but laced with mirth, “You’re going to regret this.”

When he bends over to grab a handful of the soft snow, he sees Nakyum take a step back too. His lips part around the brightness of the smile.

It is what sets things off.

They get into a wild snowball fight, running and chasing each other in the empty garden. Nakyum’s laugh rings loud and joyous amidst the silence, and it feels so good that it has Seungho’s heart swelling with all he feels.

Nakyum is not as good at throwing or not as acting in fighting back, but he is quick on his feet, and he is good at avoiding Seungho through twists and turns between the trees and the structures of the pavilion.

Eventually, Seungho catches upon him though.

When he manages to get a hold of his wrist, he yanks Nakyum back into his arms, his face pressed against the side of his face, his arms wrapped around him tight.

Nakyum squirms and giggles in his arms, and when Seungho picks him up and sways him around, Nakyum squeals at the surprise, at the sheer delight of the playfulness in the moment before he breaks down into breathless laughter.

Soon, they come tumbling down on the soft cushions of the untouched snow.

Seungho’s back hits the ground first, and Nakyum falls on top of him. There’s a flash of concern in Nakyum’s eyes in an instant, but Seungho rolls them over so that he is on top before Nakyum can even ask.

He silences the question on his lips with a kiss.

He lifts his gloved hand on Nakyum’s jaw, as he bends down for another kiss and another.

The smiles and laughter fade, even if the joy is not gone.

Seungho kisses him there on the snow covered ground, hard and deep. He kisses him until Nakyum is breathless just from the kisses alone, until they both are.

When he pulls back to look, Nakyum’s eyes find his too. They are dark and filled with desire.

 ---

 Seungho pulls Nakyum closer, so that he may lie against his chest in the small wooden bath tub. He wraps his arms around his waist under the surface of the water.

After their impromptu snowball fight and the kissing that followed, they returned indoors, shivering from the cold. Seungho asked the servants to prepare a hot bath. When it was ready, and when they were finally alone again, he stripped Nakyum bare and then himself too. He settled in the bath, inviting Nakyum to sit in front of him, between his spread legs.

The water is hot. Steam rises around them in misty fog, as Seungho leans against the edge of the tub and Nakyum against him.

It’s silent between them.

It’s comfortable.

Seungho smiles thinking of how Nakyum laughed, of how his face lit up with the pure joy as Seungho had chased after him.

It is the only thing that truly matters to him now.

Seungho is devoted to Nakyum.

He is solely devoted to his comfort, safety and happiness, to his every wish and desire.

He is devoted to his pleasure too.

When Nakyum tips his head back to rest on Seungho’s shoulder, revealing the long arch of his neck to Seungho, he can’t help but kiss him beneath his ear, then lower on the column of his neck and then lower yet.

Nakyum squirms under the attention, his lips carrying a trace of a smile. He sucks in a breath, as Seungo’s teeth nip at his shoulder.

Seungho kisses his shoulder again, as his hand travels lower too.

Nakyum is still soft when Seungho takes him in his hand, but he is not unaffected by this careful attention. He exhales a shuddered breath, and his hand comes to grip at Seungho’s thigh, fingers digging into the muscle.

Seungho smiles into the kiss on Nakyum’s shoulder, his hand too loose, too slow in the way it moves. He looks at Nakyum who lies pliant against him, his eyes closed and his lips parted. He leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of Nakyum’s ear, “Do you want?”

He had of course pleasured Nakyum the previous night, more than once, as seeing Nakyum at the height of his pleasure only once never feels quite enough for him. For Nakyum, it seemed plenty though, as he never asked for more.

And so, it is of no surprise when he replies, “’s no need.”

The way that his neck is straining, that his words are slurred, that his body is responding tells a different story.

There may not be need, but there is want, there is desire that Seungho can so easily ignite.

He grips him more securely, picking up the pace just a bit, “I think your body disagrees with you.”

Nakyum doesn’t respond. He only whimpers, as Seungho’s thumb brushes over the sensitive tip of his hardened length.

His voice, his reaction has the same desire pooling deep at Seungho’s core too, awakening parts of himself that had laid at rest.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Seungho breathes, as he pleasures Nakyum, “You’re always so beautiful.”

It is true, as he can’t take his eyes off from Nakyum now. He can’t ever.

His cheeks have taken a beautiful rosy color that has spread down to his neck and at the top of his chest. His nipples are hardened to peaks, just above the surface of the water. The rest of him is mostly hidden by the thin layer of soap suds.

It’s almost a tease not to see him.

Seungho feels him though, but the feel is not enough, this is not enough.

When the thought forms in his mind, he can’t stop himself. Nakyum lets out a disgruntled whine when Seungho releases him, when his hands come to his hips urging him to turn, to rise up.

“Come, Nakyum,” Seungho says, his voice quiet, gentle, “Sit on the edge of the tub for me.”

Nakyum glances at him in surprise, as he remains seated where he was.

It is only when Seungho’s hands curl under his thighs and lift him that Nakyum hesitantly rises from the water. He takes an unsteady step back, and his hands come to rest at the edge of the tub, as he lowers himself to it.

Seungho crowds him then and there. When he lays his hand on Nakyum’s thigh, it jumps at the contact. Carefully, he moves to the space between his legs, and he looks up, at the gorgeous sight of this man, flushed and breathing hard.

“Let me worship you,” Seungho says.

He doesn’t wait for a response before he takes him in his hand – and then in his mouth.

He closes his eyes, as he takes him in deeper.

He savors the taste, the feel, the desire behind this very act of giving and receiving.

He moves closer yet, and he wraps his arm securely around Nakyum’s lower back, so that he may succumb to the bloom of pleasure without fear of falling. He does it so that he can give into it himself too. And, he does.

It does not take much time, until Nakyum is gasping, squirming at where he is seated. It does not require much from Seungho, as he knows Nakyum now. He knows him better than he has known any past lover, and it’s such a thrill in knowing him so.

He knows how to bring Nakyum the greatest of pleasures. He knows how to delay too, to take it slow and make it torturous. He doesn’t this time though.

When Nakyum nears the sweet edge of bliss, Seungho moves his other arm from where it was between them, stopping him, stalling him. Nakyum is finally free to chase after the pleasure that is nearly upon him. And, he does with the urgent buck of his hips.

Seungho swallows him down, as he comes, as he curls around him and moans out his name.

He closes his eyes at the sound of his voice.

When he finally pulls off and looks up, Nakyum is still eyes closed, his face tipped back and lips parted. He is breathing hard, gripping hard at the edge of the tub, despite Seungho’s strong arm around his back.

Nakyum looks so beautiful.

Seungho does worship him, every part of him.

He does more than Nakyum could ever know, more than he could ever understand.

 ---

 They enjoy dinner together at the safety and comfort of Seungho’s sleeping quarters, instead of the common room. It’s cozy there, just the two of them in the candlelight as the day has already grown dark.

Nakyum looks so beautiful in the soft light of the room.

He is already dressed in the clothes that he sleeps in, although he has put on the warm morning robe that Seungho had gifted him just over a week ago. The color of the garment compliments the undertones of his skin, the color of his eyes and hair, thus making him only more beautiful.

Perhaps the depth of his beauty is in Seungho’s eyes. Perhaps it is in the memory of how Nakyum’s eyes had lit up when Seungho had presented him with the lavish robe, when Nakyum had smoothed his hand down the soft, downy fabric of it.

It is remarkable how little it takes to satisfy, to delight Nakyum.

It is poignant how long it took for Seungho to realize this, to realize how much it pleases him too to shower Nakyum with gifts, with his love and attention too.

It is tragic how much time he lost not doing exactly that.

But, he knows it now.

He won’t ignore it, he won’t forget it now.

Nakyum deserves all the good things that Seungho can give him.

He deserves all that he desires – and much more.

When Nakyum looks up, smiling around the chopsticks that he had just put in his mouth, Seungho’s heart warms at the sight of him. He shakes his head at himself, at the impossible depths of his feelings.

The smile that had lingered on Seungho’s lips has faded now, and so does the one on Nakyum’s, as he sees the serious look on his face.

Seungho feels so much for Nakyum now when he allows himself to feel.

He stares into Nakyum’s eyes, as he speaks the words in a deep, hushed voice.

“You are the best thing that has happened to me.”

Nakyum’s jaw drops, and his lips part around the surprise. Slowly, he lowers his hand beside his cup on the low table, his eyes still on Seungho’s, searching and searching.

He seems to find whatever he is looking for, because he blushes and glances down, so heart-achingly bashful in this moment between them.

When he looks up at Seungho again under his lashes, his voice is shy, and yet the look in his eyes is so bold, daring in some way.

“I think – I think you are for me too.”

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 13/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2100 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

Slowly, Nakyum heals from the attack.

Physically, he didn’t sustain many injuries, despite the ruthlessness and power behind the act. The headache – from the drug he inhaled – subsides in a couple of days. The few light bruises on his neck, on his arms and torso too, will take slightly longer to fade, and his wrist needed to be bandaged again, as him fighting back had aggravated the old injury. Nothing is irreparably damaged though.

Mentally, he does worse.

He has repeated, frequent nightmares, ones that startle him awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air, fighting against an invisible opponent. He still sleeps in Seungho’s quarters, with his husband right beside him. It makes things easier – or at least bearable – as he could not even think of returning to his own room, let alone sleep there alone.

Whenever Nakyum awakens with a voiceless scream on his lips, Seungho wakes up too.

He holds Nakyum for a long time after.

He stays awake as long as Nakyum does, or even longer.

Sometimes he whispers gentle words to him, always the same that he is okay, he is okay. Sometimes he doesn’t speak at all, just holds him closer and tighter.

He holds him, as if he is afraid that Nakyum may disappear if he lets go of him.

In the first days after, Nakyum barely leaves the room. He barely sees anyone, besides his husband and the young female servant who has assumed the duties of Nakyum’s personal servant. She is only there, when needed, or when Seungho is not – which is rare enough.

His husband has been a near constant presence by Nakyum’s side through this time. It is as if he knows Nakyum needs him now. He is never very long or very far away from him. At most, Seungho has stepped to the corridor outside the room or to the inner courtyard to talk with his brother or a household servant, always with serious looks and hushed tones.

Nakyum doesn’t hear their words, but it is not difficult to guess what they may be discussing.

With him being so fragile, everyone tiptoes around him.

No one has dared to ask him anything, to say anything to remind him of what happened.

Seungho doesn’t approach the topic until four days later. He is careful, hesitant to do so even then, as he is watching Nakyum eating his mid-day meal in silence and solitude of the sleeping quarters. He had already finished eating his.

“They have not – found any accomplices – for the attacker.”

Nakyum lowers his eyes and swallows heavily around the lump forming in his throat.

He knows the man is dead.

He knows it was Seungho who found them, whose sword struck him down.

He heard the whisperings of the servants when they thought he was asleep.

He knows, but he finds no peace in the knowledge.

He stops eating. He still holds onto the chopsticks, but he can’t bring himself to eat anymore. He bites his lip instead, not knowing how to respond.

“You’re safe here, Nakyum. I assure you that you are, but,” Seungho hesitates for a moment, “But, I need to know what happened.”

Tears rush to Nakyum’s eyes then, although he has managed to keep them away all day. There is not enough though to make them brim over and fall down his cheeks, so he blinks to rid himself of them.

They are silent for a moment, until –

“Please.”

It’s the tone of Seungho’s voice that makes Nakyum look up. He sees in his husband’s eyes what he heard in his voice too.

There is despair there. There is pain that Nakyum put there. Maybe fear too.

It’s disconcerting, harrowing to see Seungho like this, as Nakyum looks at him past his own pain and misery. This man who has only ever seemed strong, bold and confident in front of him, rarely anything else, is nearly stripped bare from his defenses now – just because of Nakyum?

He swallows again, nervously, as his eyes search Seungho’s.

“I-I don’t know him,” he says, “I don’t remember ever seeing the man before.”

Seungho nods. He listens. He waits, as Nakyum recounts the events of that day.

He tells him what he remembers from before and after his walk with Seungwon, although he does not share what they discussed during. It is not needed anyway.

He doesn’t stop there though, because now that he is finally telling Seungho, he feels he must trust him with everything.

“I think,” Nakyum begins but he stops and stalls – before he tries again, “I think this wasn’t the first time.”

Seungho’s brows furrow. He sits up and leans towards Nakyum, to get a little closer to him from where he is sitting at a slight distance. His eyes are sharp, staring at him.

“What do you mean?”

Nakyum looks down again, “The accident – during the hunt. My horse, she didn’t act like herself. She’s kind, tame, not easily spooked, but at the forest –“

He doesn’t continue. He can’t, because he doesn’t want to think of it again. It’s enough anyway for Seungho to catch his meaning, he thinks.

In the extended silence between them, he quietly adds, “Something was wrong with her.”

Nakyum’s voice sounds strained even to his own ears.

He wants Seungho to hear him, to believe him. He is afraid he won’t. He is afraid he will scold him for not telling him earlier if he does.

His husband does neither.

Seungho asks, “You think someone did something to her – to cause the accident?”

Nakyum nods.

He is even more quiet, when he says, “And before that, there-there was a snake, a poisonous snake in my room.”

Seungho suddenly stands up and walks to the door, but he stops himself from going any further. He stands there, his back turned towards Nakyum. His shoulders tense, and his hands curl into fists. The anger is clear, visible in his body, even when Nakyum can’t see his face.

He is trembling with it.

Nakyum is waiting for Seungho to lash out, to rage at him or at the whole world, to walk out of the door.

He doesn’t.

The man raises his fist, as if to smash it through the thin frame of the door. He does go for it, but he pulls his punch at the last moment, his open palm slamming against the door frame. It rattles and shakes under the force of the impact.

Nakyum jumps at the sound, surprised. His heart settles down quickly though.

When Seungho finally turns to him, his eyes are filled with fire like Nakyum has never seen before.

“No one gets to touch you but me, I promise you that,” Seungho says, his voice low and threatening, “No one will ever hurt you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  ***

  When the female servants come to clear the tables after the meal, Seungho asks the younger to call upon Seungwon and return with him. She inclines her head politely, as she takes one of the small tables and leaves the room.

They arrive not much later.

Seungho dresses himself in his outer clothes and steps outside to the courtyard to talk with his brother, presumably of his recent discoveries.

Nakyum can only assume that his husband has shared all of what he knows with Seungwon, that he has – at some point – spoken with the town officials too.

What Nakyum told Seungho changes things though, he knows that. It changes everything.

Though, his words must’ve only confirmed to Seungho what he already seemed to suspect as well, that a man as rogue and rough as the attacker is no more than a hired weapon.

Whoever wanted him harmed is still there.

The threat is not dead and buried.

The thought has Nakyum’s heart beating harder, faster in his chest, but he isn’t gripped by an overwhelming sense of fear.

He isn’t alone anymore.

He doesn’t have to carry this burden of concern and fear on his own. He doesn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder all the time, because there is someone looking after him too.

There is his husband.

This also changes things between them, as the concerns Nakyum had so carefully hidden from Seungho are now revealed.

It changes how Nakyum looks at him, how the man sees him.

When Seungho returns to the room, and the servant who had accompanied Nakyum leaves, they are left alone again.

Nakyum may have lost some of the fear he carried, but he has gained a new sense of difficulty, of awkwardness in its stead. He can’t be near his husband with that same mindless ease, as he was in these days past.

It isn’t just that the secret is out. It is the fact that Nakyum is – better now.

He doesn’t need Seungho as desperately as he did before.

He wants his husband though.

He wants the closeness just as much as he did every night after the attack, if not more now that he knows it, has come accustomed to having it.

He doesn’t know how to express his desires.

But, by nightfall, Seungho seems to have noticed his hesitancy, his nerves.

After they have changed into their night time clothes, separately, privately, he turns to Nakyum. He watches him, standing quietly by the dresser.

Nakyum has sat down on the mattress that is already spread out in the middle of the room. His eyes are cast down, as his fingers pick at the edge of his robe.

It’s the first night when he isn’t defeated by the exhaustion, the sheer need for rest to aid his recovery. It adds to the awkwardness.

Half of him fears that Seungho will send him back to his room, to force him to sleep there alone now that he no longer needs the constant care and attention.

Half of him clings to the sincerity, the insistency in Seungho’s voice, when he had promised to be there for him, when he had sworn he’d not let anything to hurt him.

He could not send him away now, could he?

When Nakyum finally dares to raise his eyes, he is met with the warmth in Seungho’s, with care that is still there too.

Nakyum feels ashamed for doubting him.

But, he feels more grateful than anything else.

He gives a small smile to him, sad one, but the first since the attack.

Seungho stares at him for a moment longer, his face softens yet more. He says, “If you don’t feel like sleeping quite yet, would you – want me to read for you?”

Nakyum looks at him too, and he nods.

Seungho turns back to the dresser, and he takes a book from the drawer. Nakyum has never seen him read it, nor has he ever seen him read anything at all.

The man joins Nakyum at the bed and lays himself down, carefully. He opens the book and settles it down on his lower abdomen.

When Nakum glances at him shyly, his husband makes space beside him, between his arm and his torso. He doesn’t say anything, but he reaches a hand towards him in invitation.

Without a word exchanged between them, Nakyum settles down there, in that safe crook of his body. He settles his head on Seungho’s shoulder, and he puts his hand gently on his chest.

He feels grateful for how easily Seungho had invited him near, how he had taken him to his arms even now, when he is not crying, not hurt, not breaking down from exhaustion anymore.

The kindness of the gesture has tears welling in Nakyum’s eyes.

When Seungho picks up the book, he pulls Nakyum closer to him. He begins to read.

His voice is low and hushed, as he speaks the words on the page aloud.

It is only then that Nakyum realizes that the book Seungho is reading looks like that of the illustrated fairy tales Nakyum had examined days ago during his outing at the town. It is the same – except this copy is old and well-worn.

The book looks as if it has been read more than a dozen times. It looks as if it is a relic from his childhood. Perhaps it is.

It makes it all the more heart-warming that his husband kept this book close to him at his dresser, that he chose to read it to him now. Nakyum wonders if someone had read it to Seungho, whenever he was feeling sad or scared. He wonders if it gave him comfort and safety when he needed it.

Nakyum closes his eyes, as he listens to Seungho’s voice as he keeps reading.

He doesn’t even realize when he drifts off.

It’s the first night since the attack that he falls asleep without tears in his eyes.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 12/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~1900 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

It’s slow and gradual, the return to himself, to his body and mind. He stays in that feathery space between dream and awake for a long time. Resisting the pull towards wakefulness, he lingers there.

He keeps his eyes closed, even when he can no longer resist.

He is breathing. He can finally breathe.

His heart is beating too. He can feel the steady, even thuds within his chest.

He is still so tired. He is thoroughly exhausted, but his mind is clearer, his body working as it did, as it should.

He is alive.

He has to be alive.

Nakyum tries to move, just to make sure that he is truly there, living and breathing, that he isn’t imagining his careful existence. He does move. It’s only a slight twitch of his hand, and even that feels as if it requires too much of him, of whatever strength and vitality he has left. It feels painful.

He lies there for a long time in that dark quietude.

He remains as he was. He stays silent and still, until he hears a small sound.

Slowly, he blinks his eyes open.

He has to close them for a moment upon the first try, for the light – as dim as it is – strikes him as a spike of pain behind his eyes.

When he tries again, he can only see the ceiling above. The room is dimly lit, cast in this soft, golden light. There is a flicker in the fade between the light and shadow on the creamy white surface, as the flame of the candle flickers too, somewhere beyond the line of his sight.

He breathes in deep this time.

The smell is gone. The inescapable pressure on his mouth, on his throat and his chest, is gone too.

He carefully turns his head towards his side.

Nakyum sees it. He realizes it then.

He is no longer in his own sleeping quarters. He is in the room where he has not been since his wedding night. He is in Seungho’s sleeping quarters instead.

He isn’t alone.

There is a young woman sitting at a polite distance, the servant who has often served him. Her eyes are lowered, her chin dipped down, but he can see how her cheeks are stained by recent tears.

As if sensing that she is being watched, she lifts her eyes. They widen in surprise, when they meet Nakyum’s gaze, when they see that he is awake.

Nakyum opens his mouth in an effort to speak, but his voice cracks and crumbles before he can get a single word out. The attempt sets her in motion though.

She moves closer and picks up the cup from beside his mattress. Gently, she slips her hand under the back of Nakyum’s head and lifts, as she brings the cup to his lips. Nakyum raises his eyes to hers upon the touch of his lips against the rim of the cup, grateful for the help she so readily gives.

He drinks, no more than a few sips. The nausea is still not fully gone, neither is the dizziness.

When his head comes to rest against the pillow again, he has to close his eyes for a moment. It is as if the world sways around him. It takes a long time until it settles.

It takes a long time until he opens his eyes again.

The servant has moved away from him, back to where she was sitting earlier.

Nakyum looks at her for a moment in silence. He already knows it, and her eyes had confirmed it too, but he has to ask. He must hear it, even if the answer can only bring more pain. He must know for sure.

“Servant Kim?”

Her eyes fill with tears. She can’t speak the words, she doesn’t manage to say anything at all, before another servant, an older woman, enters the room.

She walks to the dresser to light a candle that has burned out. With her back turned towards them, her face hidden, she says, “He is no longer alive.”

Nakyum turns away too, when he hears the words.

It’s one thing to expect pain, and another to feel it, especially when it’s for another person. The way that it flares up in his chest leaves him breathless once more.

He closes his eyes, and he breaks down crying, his sobs too loud in the otherwise silent room.

It isn’t fully silent though. Through his own sobbing, he can vaguely hear the young woman beside him cry too, being witness to his breakdown.

He remembers the words of his attacker.

It is his fault.

It is Nakyum’s fault that the older man died.

Nakyum cries, violently.

He cried himself to breathlessness, to utter exhaustion.  

They let him cry, as if they know he needs to cry, to be allowed to do so when there is so much sorrow, regret and guilt inside of him.

Only when the sobs quiet down, and there are just silent tears streaming down his cheek, does he feel a gentle hand placed on his arm, does he hear the kind voice of the older woman, “You should sleep some more.”

And, so he does.

He is already half-asleep, when he dimly hears the door open and close.

He hears the familiar voice, quiet and warm, but he can’t grasp what is said before the merciful reprieve that is sleep pulls him under.

 ***

 Nakyum sleeps but only in fits and fragments. His dreams are dark and oppressive. They have his heart racing and his chest heaving for air, as if he is being suffocated, as if he is alone in his room fighting for his life again.

When he wakes up, it is with a jolt.

He is lying on his side facing the back of the room. He has his hands raised in front of him to protect himself, to fight off his attacker, but there is no one there. He can see it in the dim light of the room. There is nothing but a nightmare that is slow to fade.

For a brief moment, he fears he is all alone again – as alone as he has been much of this time since he left his father’s house.

But, he isn’t alone now.

Before the fears creep on him over his silent companion, there’s a tender hand on his shoulder and then a low, hushed voice by his ear, as he is being pulled into a warm embrace.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Nakyum closes his eyes again, hearing the words, hearing that voice, because his chest aches with it.

Seungho is beside him, behind him.

His husband is holding him.

There is no need for fear, for he is not alone anymore.

Nakyum sags into the arms, into the comfort and safety that this man is in this moment for him.

They stay like that for a long time, with Nakyum leaning against Seungho’s chest, with Seungho’s arm wrapped securely around him. Neither speak a word.

No words are needed though to remind Nakyum of what has happened.

Tears well into Nakyum’s eyes behind his closed eyelids, remembering what he can’t forget. They brim over and roll down his cheek into the pillow beneath his head.

He doesn’t quite manage to swallow down the quiet sob. He doesn’t manage to keep himself completely still when it escapes his lips.

Seungho must have heard it too, to feel it against him.

With tender touch, the man guides Nakyum to face him instead of the back of the room. Nakyum allows himself to be maneuvered like that, too tired to resist, too tired to hide his tears or how very broken he feels.

He opens his eyes but keeps them lowered, staring down at his husband’s chest, at the front of the robe he is wearing.

He can sense Seungho watching him, examining his face, but he can’t meet his gaze. It feels too much now.

Nakyum feels too much. He fears he would break down completely, shatter into a thousand little pieces, if he were to look into his husband’s eyes now.

Seungho isn’t deterred though by the avoidance.

He touches Nakyum’s face. It’s only the faintest caress of fingertips. They brush the hair off his face, then trail down the curve of his cheek. The touch is so gentle that it almost hurts Nakyum more than anything else.

It does hurt to be receiving this kindness, with everything that he is feeling inside.

His mind is too much of a mess to fully understand, but he knows he doesn’t deserve this tenderness, this compassion and care.

He feels he shouldn’t receive it at all.

When Nakyum finally looks up, when he finally locks eyes with Seungho, he feels so vulnerable, so fragile. More tears well into his eyes.

Instead of pushing him away, of rejecting him now, Seungho puts his arms around Nakyum. He pulls him closer, tucks him under his chin, presses him firm against his chest. It’s a place of safety, a place where Nakyum can hide, disappear, forget the cruelties of the world.

He can’t escape his tears though, even in that shelter that is Seungho’s embrace. They still fall, and they do so with a suffocated sob.

“You’re safe,” Seungho whispers, his voice so anguished, “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re okay.”

That anguished voice, Nakyum thinks, as more tears cloud his eyes, and he has to close them.

It was Seungho who had called for him after the attack, who had cradled his cheek and spoken to him. It was him who must have found and saved him too.

Nakyum cries against Seungho’s chest then, his hand curling to the front of his robe where it is trapped between them. He is clutching him desperately, as if he needs to do so to keep him there. But, Seungho only holds him tighter.

He lets Nakyum cry, lets him break down, even if it may break him too.

“You’re okay,” Seungho says.

Seungho whispers it again and again, as Nakyum cries. He says the words so many times in that raw, quiet voice that Nakyum ceases to hear the words themselves. He only feels them, or the meaning behind them.

Nakyum isn’t sure if the words are meant as assurances for him anyway, not with the way that Seungho says them, with such despair in his voice. He says them again and again.

He lets his husband speak the words, as he allows him to hold him too.

He needs Seungho now, but maybe Seungho needs him too – in some way.

When Nakyum’s sobs finally quiet down, the man presses a quick kiss on his hair and another at his temple. He doesn’t let him go even then.

“I’m here now,” he says quietly, “I’ll be here as long as you want me to be, I promise.”

Nakyum slips his arm around Seungho, only so that he can press closer, tighter against him.

Through the tears, he wonders. Maybe he could’ve had this all along, if only he had trusted his husband, had told him everything when he could. Maybe Seungho could’ve been here from the start. Maybe this man could’ve kept him safe, kept them all safe.

Nakyum cries himself to sleep once more.

Seungho holds him as he drifts off.

The last thought he has is how very warm and safe he feels in his arms.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 11/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2000 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

There is a damp cloth pressed against Nakyum’s nose and mouth. The smell of it is pungent, cloying, overwhelming his senses with its strength and pervasiveness. It is making him feel nauseous, making him feel dizzy. He can’t escape from it though. He inhales it with heavy gulps, as he is gasping around it, through it, just to get air back into his lungs.

He screamed when he could. He screamed until he was breathless – or he tried to scream, but he could barely hear it even himself through the loud thudding of his heart. There is no hope that anyone else could hear him either.

His voice is muffled and strangled into near nothingness.

It has his heart beating faster, harder yet.

It has this desperate, blind panic rush over him, like wildfire blazing through, spreading to every inch of his being.

The man is upon him, knees splayed on either side of him. His weight feels heavy on Nakyum’s chest and stomach, although he is leaning forward. There are two hands on Nakyum, one pressing the cloth against his mouth and another lighter wrapped around his throat.

Nakyum is fighting him.

He tries to kick and squirm under his attacker, but his feet are trapped in the tangle of his bedding, his body weight down by a man much larger, stronger than him.

He is struggling against the hold, hitting and grappling at whatever his hands manage to find. The hand that has only just healed from his injury at the hunt is weak, far too weak, but the other is not much stronger either. Sharp pain pierces through his wrist, but he pays no mind to it. He hardly notices it.

He looks up at his attacker in the dim-lighting of the room, tears already brimming his eyes.

When the hand over his nose and mouth presses firmer yet, his chest, his throat and lungs, seize up with the desperate lack of air.

He is in a state of devastating panic, trying and failing to fight against this monster of a man, this impossible opponent that looms over him.

There is a chilling thought that comes to his mind.

He may not survive this.

It is then that he sees it, a flash of his father and mother’s faces, of Seungho’s too, so vivid, so real. His heart twists painfully in his chest at the thought of them finding him dead.

The image spurs him into action, back into the fight where he had stilled.

His hands are blindly reaching for the front of the shirt on his attacker, for his face, but the cloth is pressed tightly against his nose and mouth. His eyes are watering just from the sting of the strong smell, and he can’t keep them open anymore. He still fights though.

He is wriggling and twisting under the forcible hold, as his hands keep repeatedly grasping and hitting the man, despite the throbbing pain at his wrist, despite the very fact that it’s all in vain.

When he hears the loud clatter of something falling on the floor beside his head, he snaps his eyes open.

Looking up at his attacker, he realizes that the mask has fallen on the floor, revealing the face that was hidden behind it.

The man adjusts the hand over Nakyum’s mouth then. It allows Nakyum to get a quick gulp of air or a few.

Nakyum stares up at him.

A beautiful face, long wave hair that is now freely falling down in cascades around them. It is an unfamiliar face, one that Nakyum doesn’t remember having seen before.

When the cloth presses against his nose and mouth again, it is as if the fight within him has been snuffed out.

Perhaps it is the shock, perhaps it is the exhaustion, perhaps it is the hopelessness.

His arms feel weak and heavy, too much to keep fighting back, to win in this battle that was never his to win. They cease to move, sagging against the man that is holding him down.

His throat and lungs seize up again.

Nakyum is gradually beginning to lose his consciousness, the merciful darkness and silence pulling him in.

He surrenders in front of it, lying calm and still – waiting.

He is already slipping into it, when he vaguely hears a voice, a shout from the other side of the room. He would’ve thought he imagined it, but the pressure on his mouth and throat lessens. And then, it’s removed completely, as is the weight on his chest and stomach.

Nakyum breathes, for he can finally breathe without obstruction.

Blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, Nakyum looks.

The man for whom he has no name has moved away from him. There is a dagger on his hand now, something that Nakyum only notices due to the flash of candlelight on the sharp edge of the blade. His attention is turned away from him though.

Still dizzy, still groggy from whatever he has inhaled, Nakyum turns his head towards the door. Mr Kim is standing there. The older man is staring at Nakyum’s attacker, the unbridled fury evident on his face.

He moves forward, when the attacker moves too. He tries to fight back to help Nakyum, to protect him now that he is lying nearly lifeless on the mattress.

But, a man with only hands and fists is no match against a man with a weapon.

Even less with the obvious difference in age and strength, difference in skill at the very acts of violence.

Nakyum can’t do anything to stop it though. He can barely breathe, barely see, as the blade slashes into Mr Kim's throat. It cuts into it, deep and easy. The man staggers on his feet, before he drops to his knees and falls on the floor, unmoving.

The attacker turns then back to Nakyum, the bloodied dagger still in his hand.

There is nothing left, only a sense of dread with what's coming.

 ***

 The man is kneeling on the floor beside Nakyum. The cloth is firmly pressed on Nakyum’s nose and mouth again, the hand keeping there, the other arm keeping him down.

Nakyum’s mind has cleared a bit as a result of the few precious lungfuls of fresh air he inhaled when his attacker turned against Mr Kim. Tears spring to his eyes, knowing that the older man is lying motionless by the door. Nakyum’s body is too weary to fight though, at least beyond the slight wriggling in trying to escape the heavy hold.

The man is staring down at him, his eyes intense but cold like a frozen lake, “His life is on you.”

Nakyum is almost startled to hear the man speak. His voice is deep, dark and smooth. His words cut sharp though. A stab of sudden pain lances through Nakyum’s heart, as visceral as if it is real, true. It is not though.

It feels real, because the words are true.

It is true that Mr Kim’s life is on him. The old man died because of him, of trying to help and protect him.

It can’t be in vain though. His death cannot be without meaning, without reason.

Nakyum musters whatever strength, courage, fight he has left in him. He hits the man once at his arm – then again – and again.

He fights.

He bangs his hand sharp and hard against him, against the weaker inner curve of the man’s arm by the elbow. It is still futile. The arm remains steady and unyielding, as does the hand that covers his mouth.

Nakyum hits him again and again.

He fights, but the tears already gather in his eyes.

He hits, but he is already getting fatigued, already becoming despondent in the face of the invincible force against him.

“If you went down like you should’ve, he could’ve been spared,” he says at a hiss, as he presses down harder, as he tries to catch a hold of Nakyum’s hands, “This’ll work just as fine too.”

Nakyum tries to fight him, but his arm is too weak, he is too weak.

“An apparent overdose – a suicide after killing a favored servant, yes, that’ll work just fine for a story.”

Nakyum is beginning to lose his consciousness again. The hand that he had used to hit this nameless man is just holding onto him now.

“It’ll be better for everyone if you are no longer here.”

The man adjusts his hold, just slightly, and Nakyum can finally breathe.

He breathes in deep – or as deep as he can – inhaling whatever drug the cloth is doused with. He breathes in again, as his arms fall lax against the mattress, one first and then the other.

There is no fight anymore.

There is no victory to be had.

Nothing to win, and nothing more to lose, when all is already lost.

It’s almost a relief to be letting go.

Perhaps it will be better, when he will be gone.

He closes his eyes, when the buzzing black dots in the field of his vision become too disturbing. His heart is finally settling down, beating steadily. His breathing is slowing down too, as his lungs and throat no longer seize up as they did.

Seungho, Nakyum thinks.

The image of his husband appears clear and bright in his mind. Him riding ahead on the dusty road between the fields, his head turned back to glance at Nakyum with the most glorious smile illuminating his face. The image arrives unbidden, but he holds onto it. He thinks of the man like a final, delirious indulgence, something where his mind can find peace.

He wants to smile thinking of Seungho, of this imaginary life that he could’ve had with him, that he would’ve perhaps had with him – if only they had more time.

But, perhaps his husband will be better too without him, even if Nakyum doesn’t want to believe, to think it now.

The image fades.

The rush in his ears has drowned out all noise, and, with his eyes closed, there is nothing to see either. It’s easy to imagine himself already gone.

The beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest grow slower, heavier.

He blinks his eyes open once more, looking up at his attacker. He is barely able to see him with the way that his hair casts a shadow over his face. He stares at him, still.

What he does see then is the shimmer of something long flash above the man in the darkness. It’s like a shooting star sparkling across the midnight sky.

Nakyum closes his eyes and makes a silent wish – a wish upon a star, just in case – that someday his parents may be happy again, that someday Seungho will be happy too.

He deserves to be happy, despite all.

Suddenly, all air is rushed out of his lungs with a blow of the hefty weight that falls upon him. It presses on him heavier yet. It constricts his chest in a way that he still struggles to breathe, even if the hands on his mouth and his throat have fallen aside.

The cloth is no longer pressed against his nose and mouth. The smell still lingers.

Nakyum struggles to get air back into his lungs, but he doesn’t fight for it anymore.

And then, the pressure is off his body too.

Tears gather behind his closed eyelids. He is so tired. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want to cry for himself, but he is so exhausted.

A warm hand comes to cradle his cheek. Nakyum wants to turn towards the comfort of a gentle touch, but he can’t move. He is too tired to move either.

A tear slips out from the corner of his eye – then another.

He hears it, as if coming from afar. Someone is calling for his name, speaking to him, the voice frantic, anguished, desperate.

Please, Nakyum can only make out a single word, before he can hear none at all.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

I think I am too, although it's difficult to tease apart how much of it is because I know who they were in the main series.

don’t kill me but i’m more charmed by the AU’s concept than i am the main series’

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 10/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2000 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

After the walk, Nakyum returns to the house alone. He strides past the young female servant dusting off the corridor, and when he gets to his quarters, he closes the door behind him. He sighs a deep breath, slumping against the wooden surface for a moment.

He is still lost in the thoughts of what Seungwon had revealed, as he begins to relieve himself of his outer clothes. He removes his bonnet and moves to place it on top of the dresser, before his fingers come to loosen the fastenings on his jacket. He thinks of Seungho.

He had known his husband had a past. He had heard whisperings of certain things, even of his past affairs, although such things would never be directly shared with a new spouse of a man. He had not known the details though.

He still does not know all, but he knows more.

With every new piece of information he learns of the man he married, his view of Seungho shifts – just a little. It is these small steps that lead him to examine his own feelings, his own actions too.

Had he not behaved wrong as well? Had he not presumed things of his husband instead of asked?

He did not hate Seungho, even after the burn of the obvious rejection at their wedding and the everything that followed. Still, he discovers now with a taste of bitterness on his tongue that he had acted as if Seungho was in fault for it all.

Maybe he was not, maybe he is not.

After the wedding, Nakyum had waited for Seungho to come to him, when he could’ve approached him too. He had absolved himself from the responsibility on the excuse that he is of lesser position in their marriage due to his lower status prior. He had exempted himself because of feeling hurt, when he had no true knowledge of Seungho’s feelings. Nakyum had not even considered his.

Worse yet, he had punished Seungho for his actions.

He had pushed him away.

Having opened the fastenings of his jacket, Nakyum slips it off his shoulders. He walks over to the cabinet at the corner of the room and places the clothing inside. He closes the door, before turning back towards the room.

He takes in his surroundings for the first time since his return, and he is struck by an odd sense that something is wrong, something has changed. His brows furrow, as he strives to understand what it is that makes him feel this way.

He is alone in the silent room.

His eyes shift over the sight, until they catch upon the set of five thick candles on top of the dresser. One of them has fallen over on its side on the wooden surface. It was not so earlier, he thinks.

He glances towards the door and freezes, his nerves setting alight. He then realizes something that he should’ve already noticed when he walked in.

The door was already open, left slightly ajar, when he arrived. It was certainly not so earlier, he knows.

He distinctly remembers having closed it when he left from the room with Seungwon.

Before panic, fear can settle in, Nakyum moves to the dresser. He slowly opens the top drawer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He doesn’t have much that is his own, but what he has he could not bear to lose.

It’s still there though.

His eyes cast down, he touches the small piece of fine cloth. It feels cool and smooth under the fingertips. It is not of value to anyone but him, just like the treasure that hides in its folds.

He closes the drawer and looks towards the door.

Remembering the young female servant outside his room, he walks over to the doorway. When he opens the door, the woman looks at him, inclines her head and smiles politely.

Nakyum looks at her for a moment, and he remembers she was there when they found the snake in his room too. He promptly shakes his head to himself, thinking that she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. She has only ever been nice to him, nicer than a lot of the other servants in the household. Much nicer than his own servant, Deokjae, who is still – missing.

“Has anyone been to my room while I was away?” Nakyum asks carefully, before rushing to add, “To clean it, I mean.”

The woman bows her head, ashamed and apologetic, “No, no one has been there, I’m afraid. I have yet to have time to clean it. I’m so sorry, my Lord.”

Nakyum stills for a moment, staring at her in the dim corridor. His heart is beating hard and loud within the ribcage as if it’s trying to escape, as if it’s trying to warn him of the invisible threats.

There are none though, or there is nothing that would mean anything to anyone else.

A candle tipped over, a door left ajar, neither means much in the absence of everything else.

He could not share his suspicions with anyone else, as they would mean nothing to anyone else.

He could not share them, as he doesn’t know who he can trust.

Nakyum lifts his eyes to meet the servant’s from where they had fallen. He nods at her and says, “Could you please have late lunch served for me at the common room if others have eaten already?”

The servant smiles and rushes away to act on the request.

Nakyum returns to his room. He does not wish to stay there though, not when he is filled with this sense of uncertainty, of renewed fear.

 ***

 When Nakyum arrives for dinner at the common room hours later, he still feels tense.

Seungho and Seungwon are already there, seated on the opposite sides of the long table and deep into a conversation over governmental affairs. Seungho seems to sense Nakyum’s presence the moment he steps into the room though. His husband glances towards him, a minute twitch of his lips and a polite incline of his head to acknowledge his arrival. Seungwon follows his brother’s gaze, and with a smile, he invites Nakyum to join them at the table.

Nakyum quietly walks up to his husband, and he settles down beside him. He lowers his eyes, unwilling to engage, when his mind is scattered. He only lifts them, once the two men fall back to their conversation.

It is only a moment later that Seungho’s father appears. He sits beside Seungwon, and, after the easy flick of his wrist, the food is finally served.

Nakyum fills his cup, although he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

He eats slowly, picking at the food.

He is idly listening to the Yoon men talk. He has trouble focusing on their words though, as his mind is mulling over the possibilities, the meanings of all that has happened.

There have been no further attempts on his life since the hunt over three weeks ago. There have been no threats either. The lack of such acts is not enough to subdue his nerves though.

He can’t simply ignore, forget the signs that someone had visited his room when the servant said no one did.

The young woman had no reason to lie. She wouldn’t dare, as being caught in a lie would not be well received by her masters.

Nakyum knows he closed the door. He remembers it. He knows too that he had not knocked the candle over himself. He would’ve noticed and set it upright, if he had.

He stares at the scraps of food in his cup silently, no longer eating.

There was someone in his room while he was away. He is sure of it.

He is startled when he feels a gentle touch at his hand, the one that is clenched into a fist over his thigh. Seungho covers it with the warm palm of his own.

When Nakyum turns to his husband, he is met by the look of distinct concern. His voice is quiet, low, “Are you okay?”

Nakyum vaguely realizes that Seungwon is still talking with their father, that it is only Seungho whose attention is set on him. It is still more than he desires to have.

He looks at his husband, eyes searching his.

For a moment, he wishes to tell Seungho of his suspicions, of his concerns and fears. He wishes to tell him everything that is weighing so heavy, dark and frightening over him. He wishes to tell him so that he could seek comfort and security in his presence, in his attention.

He no longer suspects that Seungho ever sought to harm him. He knows he didn’t, for he knows his husband now. More than that, Seungho has had countless opportunities to hurt him since the hunt, but he has not taken any of them. He does not wish to harm him, Nakyum knows.

For a moment, he thinks that he could tell his husband, and that Seungho would believe him. He thinks he would help him and protect him.

Nakyum opens his mouth to speak, but there is a loud clink of ceramic cups that draws his attention to the other side of the table. Seungwon throws an apologetic look towards them, putting the cup down, before he turns his attention back to his father.

“- not possibly understand, even if it was so,” their father says, his eyes on Seungwon.

Nakyum looks at them, as they continue to discuss. He then looks to the servants that stand at the side of the room.

He can perhaps trust Seungho, but he doesn’t know who to trust beyond him.

He glances at the man, before he lowers his eyes. With a quiet voice, he says, “I’m fine.”

Seungho holds his hand for a moment longer, before he lets go and resumes eating.

Nakyum continues too.

Although he can sense Seungho’s eyes on him a dozen times before they finish the meal, he does not meet the gaze.

When Seungho’s father suggests drinks after the meal, Nakyum politely begs off with the excuse of the late hour. The older man nods at him, but it is Seungho who stops him with a light touch at his knee.

“May I escort you to your room?”

Nakyum looks at him for a moment, meeting his stare. He then glances towards Seungwon and their father across the table, before he puts a hand on top of Seungho’s.

“No, stay,” he says, “Your brother has only come back. Enjoy his company.”

Seungho looks for a moment as if he wants to argue. He doesn’t though, much to Nakyum’s relief. He isn’t sure he can be with the man without revealing everything. He isn’t sure if he can do that either, if he should. Not because he suspects him, but because he worries that Seungho wouldn’t believe him, that it would make him see Nakyum differently.

After bidding goodnights, Nakyum leaves them.

His steps are hurried as he walks through the dark courtyard.

When he gets inside his room, his heart is at a gallop inside his chest. It does not settle down, as he moves through his night-time routines. It doesn’t fully settle, even when he lays himself on the mattress.

He left a single candle lit on the dresser, as he could not bear full darkness – for this feeling inside.

He closes his eyes, and he wills himself to sleep. It is exhaustion that is feeding the fear. And yet, the rest evades him, so he just lies there for what feels like a very long time.

He has yet to hear Seungho return to his room.

Nakyum is alone in the house.

In the end, exhaustion does pull him towards the edge of the sweet abyss that is sleep. He has almost fallen asleep when he hears the sound, a muted thud, from somewhere near his door.

Blinking sleepily, he opens his eyes and looks.

His heart stops – before it begins to beat again at a race.

Standing at the door of his room, there is a large man, his face covered by a red grotesque mask.

Nakyum can’t even scream for help, as breath is stolen from his lungs at the sight.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

CONCEPT this seungho with this nakyum

THE POWER COUPLE

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

I definitely understand both sides as a reader and a writer.

I have never deleted a story, but I have considered it, and I expect that someday I might do it. It won't be an easy decision, and it won't be without pain, because as a writer, story isn't just a story to me. It carries many meanings, memories and emotions that can muddy my feelings towards the story and the deliberation what to do with it.

As a reader, I know the pain too of finding a bookmark of a favorite fic empty, gone. There are fics that I've read again and again, that's I still expect to read a dozen times. I don't want to "lose" those. This is why I usually downloaded a copy if I truly treasure that fic. I'd encourage others to do the same too. This will allow you to revisit the story that you enjoyed and allow the writer to delete the story completely if they wish.

While orphaning is a choice, and it'll cut writer's ties to the story, it'll still continue to exist, and the author knows it will. If there is complex emotions surrounding the story for the author, orphaning the work may not feel right for this reason. This is of course dependant on the reasons for wanting to get rid of the fic.

P.S. Just to give non-writers a picture of variation, I personally can't write 10k story in a day. A 10k story is at least 2 days for me. While I can do up to 15k in a day, it's rough draft, and in middle of a story that is much longer. With a 10k story, I need at least one night to mull over it before editing. I know some writers are even slower. I really didn't realize how much time it takes to write a story compared how long it takes to read it, until I started writing myself. Made me appreciate great fics even more.

Not to be controversial but … 

please 👏 please 👏 please 👏stop 👏 deleting 👏 your 👏 fics 👏 from 👏 AO3 👏 they 👏 are 👏glorious 👏 and 👏 wonderful 👏and 👏 if 👏 you 👏 really 👏 don’t 👏 want 👏 them 👏 anymore 👏 orphaning 👏 is 👏 an 👏 option 👏 but 👏 some 👏 of 👏 us 👏 like 👏 to 👏 revisit 👏 fics 👏 again 👏 and 👏 again 👏 please 👏 think 👏 of 👏 the 👏 children 

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 9/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2100 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

In the days after their ride, Nakyum sees Seungho more. They converse more, even if their discussions are often sparse and stilted.

Nakyum doesn’t quite know how to talk to his husband yet, especially given how his perceptions of the man have changed as of late, how their relationship has changed too. He doesn’t seem to be alone in his feelings though, as Seungho is even more silent than he is.

It isn’t surprising how awkward, how hesitant things between them feel. It is new, different after all, how they are building upon this relationship instead of avoiding it, how they are seeking each other’s company instead of escaping it.

It isn’t surprising either – or at least it shouldn’t be – how Nakyum then finds himself in the common room enjoying a late breakfast, while Seungho is sitting and smoking his pipe by the opened windows. The man had already eaten earlier, but he still joined Nakyum for the meal.

The weather has been unexpectedly mild these past days, so it’s not too cold in the room, despite the open windows. A warm breeze from the south has blown over the town, and it has melted much of the snow, revealing the muddy ground beneath. It would only be a matter of time though until the weather would take a turn for the colder once again.

Seungho is sitting by the windows, dressed in his deep blue robes that pool around him onto the floor. He is observing the view of the inner courtyard. His head inclined just so that Nakyum can see the sharp angles of his profile. He looks serious, but the few rays of the sun that are cast upon him give his face a warm glow.

Staring at him, Nakyum’s mind shifts to his first impression of Seungho, to how he had privately admired his groom at the wedding. He can’t help but admire him now just as he had then, for he is beautiful.

Only when Nakyum realizes what he is doing, does he avert his eyes. He does not wish to be caught staring, even if he doesn’t think the attention would be rejected.

Even with his gaze turned aside, his cheeks flush at his silliness, secretly stealing glances of his husband. He clears his throat and says, if only to hide the stirrings of embarrassment, “I heard your brother is returning soon.”

“He is. He is expected to arrive in two days if the weather persists.”

Nakyum eats for a moment in silence, considering his words. When he looks up again, Seungho is still there, sitting by the window and staring at the courtyard.

“Are – are you close with your brother?”

“Yes,” Seungho says without hesitation, but a complex expression passes his face before he continues, “but not as close as we were as children.”

Nakyum doesn’t pry more into the topic, although he suspects that Seungho would entertain his questions with answers if he did. He does not ask, because he senses the difficulty. Instead, he wishes to steers the discussion into another direction, one that has wondered since Seungwon left.

The food in his cup sits forgotten, as he looks to Seungho quietly for a long while. He finally asks, “Have you been to Hanyang yourself?”

He is unable to hide the ring of curiosity, of excitement in his voice.

Seungho must’ve heard it too, as there is a fine twitch of lips, the beginnings of something that could bloom into the most beautiful smile. It doesn’t though, as he doesn’t allow it.

“I have, although not for a couple of years,” he replies, his eyes still cast on the view, “I – lived there – for a while.”

Nakyum stares at Seungho, amazed.

He has only ever heard of the great city. He has never visited himself. Neither have Donghyun and Sunjung. He has been told that his birth mother had been to Hanyang before she had him. He could not remember her stories from the city himself though, if she told him any.

From all that Nakyum has heard though, Hanyang seems incredibly fascinating. He can hardly imagine what it would be like to see it, to experience it for himself.

It is far away though, and this town is already the furthest that Nakyum has ever been from his childhood home. Hanyang is at much greater distance, so much so that it feels as if it is in another land entirely.

“I hope to go there even once in my life,” Nakyum sighs wistfully, looking down at his cup.

When he lifts his eyes, he finds Seungho watching him quietly, studying him. Nakyum shares a shy smile with him before he resumes eating.

As he is finishing his meal, his eyes catch up on Mr Kim through the open windows. He is walking across the courtyard, his sure steps leading him towards where Seungho and Nakyum are.

There’s a polite knock on the door, before he steps into the room, his head bowing down.

“I am sorry to disturb you, my Lord,” the servant says, addressing Seungho, “If I could have a word with you.”

Seungho nods, and, after glancing at Nakyum, he asks, “In private?”

“No, this – involves Nakyum, so he may hear it as well,” he says, “We are in a difficult situation, my Lord, as – the servant, Deokjae, has not returned. He has been gone for days now, with no word of where he has gone or when he might reappear. I am not sure we can wait.”

Nakyum flinches hearing the familiar name. A flash before his eyes, of the familiar scarf, of the blood on the show that has now melted, has his heart racing at his chest, but he cannot, he will not speak. He does not need to do so, as neither pay any attention to him.

Looking at Mr Kim, Seungho asks, “What do you suggest?”

“We need to hire a new servant to replace him.”

  ***

Seungwon arrives in the late morning of the second day, with a fresh snowfall. After meeting with his father and brother, he soon comes to greet Nakyum too.

With a polite smile, the man makes his apologies for having been gone for so long, and he suggests they’d go for a walk at the town. It’s an invitation that Nakyum readily accepts.

While Seungwon awaits outside the sleeping quarters, Nakyum promptly dresses himself in his outer clothes. He carefully puts on his bonnet before taking his mittens. It’s colder outside again, he knows, although the ground has no more than a fine layer of snow.

Dressed for outside, he steps into the corridor and closes the door behind him. He then joins Seungwon, so that they may be on their way.

Soon enough, he is walking down the busy main road beside this young man. It feels odd, especially since they had very few conversations before his travels. Seungwon is now more of a stranger to him than Seungho, although Nakyum can’t say he knows his husband well yet.

Seungwon is kind, cordial though, and so very different from his brother, although Nakyum is beginning to see that side of Seungho too. Perhaps they are not so very different after all.

Seungwon looks to Nakyum, “I hear much has happened since I left.”

Nakyum bows his head, his eyes cast down on the road a few steps ahead.

It is no lie. A lot has happened since Seungwon had left not long after the wedding. Nakyum had certainly not expected this eventful start to his marriage. He does not know what to say though, because Seungwon is still a stranger to him, and he is Seungho’s brother too.

Seungwon sighs at the silence and turns to look ahead too, as they walk.

“I expect it has not been easy for you settling into your new life here,” he says at first, before he carefully amends his words, “I expect that it has not been easy being with my brother.”

Nakyum looks at him in surprise. When Seungwon glances at him, there’s a flash of a bowed smile.

“There is no need to be coy. I know my brother is – difficult.”

Nakyum is yet more stunned. He schools himself to hide the reaction under a veil of indifference, before he can find peace again. He is careful when he says, “It is better now.”

His cheeks redden at the admission, although he doesn’t fully fathom why.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Seungwon says, unable to hide the mirth in his tone, but he quickly grows more serious, “Please don’t hold his past actions against him.”

Nakyum can only nod. He remains silent, as he twists and turns the words in his mind, trying to discover their true meanings.

Seungwon doesn’t leave him in the dark for long though.

“He – has a troubled past. I do not wish to betray his confidence, but I fear he wouldn’t tell you himself. You should know to understand him.”

Nakyum turns to look ahead again, his eyes trailing past the merchants selling various goods. He cannot ask, even if he wishes to know. He does not look towards Seungwon until he speaks again.

“Seungho had affections for another man – once,” he winces, glancing at Nakyum, “It was years ago.”

Nakyum nods silently.

He knows Seungho was not as inexperienced as he was going into their marriage. He had never considered that there may have been feelings involved. The thought has something hot and intense blooming at the pit of his stomach. He does like the feel of it.

He can’t examine his feelings further, as Seungwon continues with his retelling.

“It did not end well because of our father,” his face is dark and serious, as he speaks the words, “I don’t believe Seungho has ever forgiven him for what he did.”

Seungwon suddenly stops in the middle of the street, and Nakyum turns to look back. When the man glances around, his eyes restless, Nakyum understands his reluctance to continue. Their surroundings have grown more quiet now that they have ventured off the main road. They are not alone though.

Nakyum steps closer to allow more privacy.

When he continues, Seungwon’s voice is quiet, barely audible, “He was an untouchable.”

Nakyum sucks in a sharp inhale. He cannot hide the look of surprise, as he stares at this man in front of him.

Seungwon had used the word baekjeong.

The nobles did not get involved with them in any way, and they certainly could have no relations with them. To fraternize in such an intimate manner would bring shame to the family.

Nakyum can only imagine how deep and true affection one must’ve felt for another to go against their father in such a manner.

It is then that he is hit by a more heart-breaking realization.

It did not end well because of our father, Seungwon said.

He was an untouchable, he said.

A man born as baekjeong could not escape his status.

A man born as baekjeong would die as such.

Nakyum looks to Seungwon in a wordless alarm. It must’ve been evident in his face, as the man continues, his voice soft, gentle.

“It was years ago, although I suspect he never recovered from – what happened. Of course, the way he acted since did not help either in mending what was broken between him and our father.”

Seungwon gives a sad smile, as he begins to walk again. Nakyum hurries to follow after him, quickly falling into step beside him.

He glances at him, unsure, “Not that I don’t appreciate you sharing this with me, but I’m not sure I understand how this relates to me.”

Seungwon sighs, as he keeps his eyes ahead.

“Seungho – did not wish to marry,” he says, “But, our father gave him no choice. I trust Seungho hates him for that too, even if he was destroying himself with his rebellion, his revenge.”

Nakyum furrows his brows, unable to stop the concern rising within him, as he thinks of Seungho, of what he has heard regards to him, of what he has seen himself.

“He may have – mistakenly – hated you too, as he believed you have sided with our father, forcing this arrangement on him,” Seungwon finally says, “Though, I’m glad to see that he has come to see the light on this matter.”

Nakyum nods quietly, his mind mulling around these recent revelations, around the thoughts and ever-changing perceptions of his husband.

They walk in silence for a little longer, until Seungwon looks to Nakyum and says more boldly now, “So please, be patient with my brother. Be forgiving too. He will not always be as difficult as he has been thus far.”

Nakyum considers it for a moment, until he says in an exhale of a promise, “I will.” 

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 8/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~1900 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

Nakyum is returning to his sleeping quarters, still shocked and shaken by his chilling discovery, when he is intercepted on the way. He jumps when he hears his name being called.

His eyes snap only to find Seungho standing at the doorway of his sleeping quarters, already watching at him.

Nakyum had raised a hand to untie the strings of his bonnet, but, noticing the slight tremble, he promptly drops his hand, lets it fall to his side. He breathes out a long exhale, imploring his heart to settle. He looks at his husband and nods at his direction, a wordless acknowledgement of his presence, of having heard him call for him.

Seungho stares at him silently for a second longer, until he says, “May I have a moment of your time, my Lord?”

Nakyum is surprised upon hearing Seungho call him by his title, the title that he was only afforded through his marriage to him. He has never heard his husband use it in referring to him. He has only ever been called by his name or referred to as husband, and the latter was often accompanied by the ring of displeasure in his voice. It is why being called by his title sounds so peculiar coming from those lips.

He nods, albeit hesitantly, “Of course.”

It is then that Nakyum realizes that Seungho is dressed to go outside, his robes covered by a thicker coat on top and his boots already on his feet. He is holding his hat and dark leather gloves in his hands.

Seungho puts on the hat, as he walks up to where Nakyum had stilled by the entrance. As he strides past him, he glances towards him and says, “If you’d kindly follow.”

The words are quiet, they are not unkind, so Nakyum does.

Seungho leads him past the houses at the residence in determined steps.

He leads them towards where Nakyum had – just over two weeks ago – stood in preparation for the fateful hunt. When Nakyum realizes this, he wants to turn back. He wants to escape, to run away from that place, but he can’t, not when Seungho acts as he does with him now, careful, gentle.

As they arrive at the yard before the stables, Seungho turns towards Nakyum. He puts a hand on his arm, a touch so light that Nakyum can hardly feel it through the thick layers. He looks at Nakyum seriously, his eyes meeting Nakyum’s.

“Wait here, please.”

Seungho walks off, disappearing inside the stables, even before Nakyum can respond.

He does not need to wait for very long though.

When his husband returns a moment later, he is not alone. Mr Kim is walking after him, holding onto the reins of a horse that trails after them. It’s an exquisite light-colored gelding by the looks of it, one that Nakyum doesn’t remember seeing before.

Seungho rejoins Nakyum, but he stays at a respectful distance. He glances towards his servant and nods at the older man. He takes the reins of the horse from him, before the man leaves them alone at the yard outside the stables once more.

Nakyum is staring at his husband, confusion undoubtedly clear, evident on the features of his face.

It looks though as if Seungho is struggling to express himself, to find the right words. It takes him a moment until he speaks up.

“I know – nothing can replace – what you lost,” he says carefully, “and I know you do not wish for anything I could offer, but please do not reject this.”

Nakyum hears the words, but he has trouble understanding the meaning of them, until a sudden dawning, as clear as day. His eyes widen in surprise as he turns his attention back to the horse.

Seungho means to gift this gelding to him.

The horse is beautiful. It looks to be only slightly smaller in size to Seungho’s stallion, but the coloring is nearly opposite. The coat of the gelding is pale gold. It appears smooth and shiny, as if it’s made from silk. The horse is possibly the most beautiful creature that Nakyum has seen.

His eyes never departing from their sight, he takes the mitten of his hand. He approaches the horse slowly, until he is standing right beside it. He then reaches a hand to touch the coat, to smooth it down its neck. It is as soft as it appeared.

Although he is certainly not an expert on horses, he knows enough to understand that this magnificent creature standing in front of him must have cost a fortune. He knows too that Seungho’s family can afford it, that they can afford much more. They had gifted him several items of value before the wedding. Still, this feels different.

This is the first gift Seungho has given him since their wedding.

This is the only gift he has given aside the necklace that Nakyum lost on the night of their argument, that he left behind when he stormed out.

Nakyum has no want for gifts, as he never had much, as he never desired much. Still, this feels special.

He turns to his husband again, hand still resting against the neck of the horse. The look in the eyes that meet his is so serious, so sincere.

“I thought you –  should have someone – or something so that you should not feel as alone here,” Seungho finally says, “I hope – that I may help you with that as well – if you allow.”

Nakyum stares at his husband in the silence of the yard, eyes searching his, but he finds no lies, no deceit in them.

Truly for the first time after meeting Seungho, he feels hope rising again for their marriage, for a future where they may at least be amiable with each other, perhaps even more than that, although he does dare to dream of more.

 ***

 Nakyum is riding after Seungho on the quiet forest road.

When Seungho had suggested they would go for a ride together, Nakyum did not have the heart to decline the rare invitation from his husband. He did not have courage to speak against it when the moment between them had felt – so vulnerable, fragile in some way. He was nevertheless most relieved when Seungho had steered them into a wholly different direction from where they had been for the hunt. Nakyum did not wish to go back there again.

They have been quiet much of the ride, as if neither of them is willing to break this silence that is the wintry forest, this peace that they have only found between them.

They may have fallen into quietude, not riding abreast on the narrow road, but Seungho keeps looking back at him every now and then. Nakyum does not dare to think of it as a sign of concern, of care, but he does not know what else it could be.

The horse under him is steady though. It’s calm and attentive even to the slightest of his commands. They find a common pace, a common language soon enough where Nakyum can easily give his commands and trust them to be followed, respected. Seeing this obedience and control now on this forest path, he is slowly released from the grip of tension that held onto him since they left from the residence on horseback.

When they approach the opposing edge of the forest, it is already with great ease that he moves together with his new gelding

As the narrow path widens into a road, Seungho slows down only so that Nakyum may properly catch upon him. As he does, Nakyum smiles at him, shy and tentative, before lowering his eyes at the loss of words to speak.

They continue on the road side by side, riding ahead.

A majestic sight opens ahead of them when they come out of the forest. It’s just pyeongs and pyeongs of untouched snow in every direction as far as the eye can see. The fields on either side of the road are dotted with small houses that are few and far apart. The skies above look brighter, whiter here, almost like a reflection of the snow on the ground.

The road widens yet more, when they near a lone tree that stands tall and stark against the scenery.

Seungho guides his horse towards the tree and brings it to a halt under the bare branches. Nakyum does too, following his lead.

He takes a subtle glance at his husband beside him, but Seungho doesn’t look at him now. He keeps his eyes ahead on the snow covered fields.

Nakyum watches him take a deep breath in and out, as if in preparing himself.

“I must apologize to you,” Seungho says.

Nakyum jolts at the surprise of the words that come unbidden, unexpected.

“No,” he rushes to respond, if only acting on instinct.

Seungho turns to look at him then, his eyes dark and pained, “No, please allow me.”

Meeting that gaze, Nakyum doesn’t refuse him again. He remains silent, watching his husband for a moment, until he gives a minute nod.

Seungho turns back to look at the scenery again. He falls silent too, staring ahead, as he seems to search for the words, for the courage to admit to his faults. It surely doesn’t come easy for a man as prideful as he is. He does it anyway.

After another long, deep exhale, he finally says, “I am deeply sorry. I have – acted so wrong towards you.”

The words come off quiet and stilted, as if he still doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. Perhaps he does not.

Nakyum doesn’t either, so he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t push.

“My relationship with my father is -,” Seungho begins, but he stalls and diverts with a shake of his head, “I should have not involved you in it. You did not choose this marriage to hurt me, to control me, so it was unfair of me to act as if you had done so.”

Nakyum looks down at his hands where they are resting on the top of his saddle, nervously worrying the leathery strap of the reins.

He understands it now, or he understands as much as he can understand, given that they still are largely strangers to each other.

Seungho doesn’t hate him.

He never did.

He didn’t hate him when he married him.

He didn’t after either.

When Nakyum lifts his eyes to look at Seungho, he finds his husband already staring at him. There is sincerity in his eyes. There is an apology too. There is something that looks a lot like regret and pain and resolution to do better, to be better. There is something that makes Nakyum believe the words that he says next.

“I do not wish to avoid you, Nakyum.”

Seungho calls him by his name then, but it has never sounded as it does now, falling from his lips. It has never spoken it with such softness, with such care in his voice, not even on the night at the courtyard after their argument.

Nakyum lifts his chin a little, not willing to succumb to the sudden shyness that grapples to take a hold of him in this moment, when he says, “I do not wish to avoid you either.”

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 7/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~1900 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

When Seungho’s personal servant is set to go out to run some errands at the town a few days later, Nakyum asks to join him.

He hasn’t ventured much outside the walls at the Yoon residence. Now, he is filled with such nervous, restless energy – from the events of the past days, from the vague threat looming over him – that he feels as if he is suffocating from it.

In the past days, Deokjae has unexpectedly made himself more present to assist him, but he doesn’t hide his disdain for Nakyum, for the very thought of him having to serve a commoner – even when he no longer is one. It makes Nakyum’s life at the residence only more distressing.

Nakyum does not wish to stay, hiding inside his room all day. It clearly isn’t a safe haven even if his suspicions are not correct. He wants to go just to get out of this place for a moment.

When he asks Mr Kim, the older man hesitates at first, but then, he nods.

The first step outside the gated entrance comes with a subtle wave of relief washing over him. Though, his tangled thoughts do not fully leave him until they get to the busy main street of the town.

They stop several times along the way to see what the different merchants have to offer. It is often Nakyum who stops. The older man is too kind to indulge him with these small freedoms during their outing, especially when it only causes further delay for him.

When Nakyum once again stalls outside the small shop selling a variety of books and illustrations, Mr Kim suggests that he stay there while he quickly goes to another shop just a bit down the street. Nakyum looks at him for a moment, uncertain, until he inclines his head in a wordless agreement.

As the older man walks off, Nakyum returns to look at the books that are settled in a shelf just outside the shop, under the shelter of the wide awning.

He is examining a book of illustrated fairy tales when he hears someone approach him.

“What a chance encounter, meeting you here.”

Nakyum lowers the book, and he looks behind him to find two men standing at a polite distance. He recognizes them as being Seungho’s friends. He had briefly talked to them at the wedding celebrations. One of them has a lively face, Min was his name, as Nakyum recalls. The other more familiar yet was Jihwa. He is the man who Nakyum had seen arguing with Seungho at the Yoon residence days ago.

When Nakyum doesn’t say anything, the man speaks again, “Ah, I’m not sure if you remember. I’m Min, and this is my friend Jihwa. We met briefly at the wedding.”

Nakyum puts the book away before turning to bow at them.

“I hope you have been well since we last saw you,” Jihwa says with a kind smile on his face.

“As well as I can be.”

It is not a lie, even if it is not the truth either. He does not wish to express his current miseries to men he barely knows.

Min nods along, ”Married life is clearly treating you well.”

His eyes flick down Nakyum’s frame. He pastes a cordial smile on his lips, as he lifts his eyes to meet Nakyum’s again.

Nakyum inclines his head, not knowing what to say, feeling slightly awkward under the attention.

“It’s a shame we haven’t really got the chance to make further acquaintances yet,” Jihwa says politely after a moment of silence, smoothing over the awkwardness, “We should take our horses and meet for a ride in the forest someday.”

Nakyum tenses at the words. The loss is still too fresh in his mind, time has yet to fully heal the wounds.

Min turns to his friend, nudging him at his shoulder.

“Have you not heard”, Min admonishes him, with a twitch of lips, before he continues, “Ah, yes, you were not at the hunt. See, Nakyum got into the most horrible accident with his horse during. Had to end the poor creatures suffering then and there.”

Nakyum swallows. He blinks away the tears that are threatening to well up in his eyes from just hearing Min’s recount of the events. The words are not unkind though, neither is the look that Jihwa gives him when he turns back to him.

“My deepest apologies, for I did not know.”

Nakyum lowers his eyes, as he cannot look. He doesn’t wish to see the concern, the pity in his eyes. He is quiet when he replies, “It’s okay.”

“I’m glad to see that you are well enough though,” Jihwa says, “Perhaps we ca-“

His words are cut short though, when someone calls for Nakyum.

Nakyum lifts his eyes to look back. It is Seungho’s servant, who walks up to them in hurried strides.

The older man looks at the two young lords for a moment, before he turns his attention to Nakyum once again, “We should return to the house – if you are ready, Lord Yoon.”

It is the first time that Nakyum has been called as such. It is his title, but only through his relationship with Seungho. It is not his name though, not officially, but Mr Kim had called him by it anyway. Likely to associate him with his husband in a more perspicuous manner.

Nakyum nods silently.

He must’ve already taken far too much of the servant’s time, so he does not wish to delay him further. He turns back to Min and Jihwa to say his goodbyes to them.

After cordial bows, Min smiles and says to him, “We shall hope to see you soon again.”

“As do I,” Nakyum replies in kind.

They part ways, and both parties go in different directions. Nakyum follows after the servant, as they make their way back towards the residence.

It isn’t until they near the entrance that the older man turns towards Nakyum. They have remained silent much of the way, but he speaks now.

His eyes are serious and sure on Nakyum’s, as he says, “You’d do well to keep your distance from the young lords.”

  ***

  Nakyum is walking alone in the garden of the Yoon residence. It’s colder than it has been since the seasons changed, and the ground is blanketed by fresh snow from the previous day. He has bundled himself in his thickest winter jacket, and he has put on his bonnet and mittens too to ward off the chill.

He felt too restless staying in his room, having been indoors the entire morning and the day before too.

He does not wish to go to the town unaccompanied, nor could he ask for Seungho’s personal servant to escort him whenever he wants to go. He would not ask his own servant either.

He has not seen Deokjae all morning, and he barely saw him the previous evening, but he doesn’t mind. After receiving far too much of his attention and time in the preceding days, it’s a welcome change. He does not wish to be in the man’s company any more than he must, as it only ever comes with the obvious scorn.

And so, Nakyum finds himself alone outside on this grey, dull day.

He looks around the empty garden. It looks so different from how it did on the day he saw it for the first time. He was so different then too. It’s hard to believe that it hasn’t even been two months since that day.

Slowly, he steps onto the platform that is still there, only now covered by a layer of untouched snow. He walks up to where he stood then, and he stops to stand right there again.

Nakyum has not talked with his husband since their argument and the following exchange at the courtyard, nor has he seen more than a few glimpses of the man. He wonders if Seungho is purposefully keeping away, if he is carefully avoiding him because Nakyum asked him to do so.

The thought – bothers him – more than he expected. He isn’t sure if he truly meant his hasty words, or he isn’t sure that he means them anymore at least.

A lifetime would be a long time to spend trying to avoid someone who lives in the same house, who interacts with the same people.

Nakyum isn’t sure at all if he wants that, but he doesn’t know how to have anything else with Seungho either, nor what that else would even be.

He looks up at the sky that is nothing more than a canvas of solid grey. The sun is hiding behind the thick veil of clouds. He already misses its warmth, its brightness, although the winter has barely begun.

He carefully steps down from the platform, and he begins trailing the pathways of the garden again.

There have been no more attempts to harm him since the day of the hunt. There have been no hints of such attempts either.

It would be easy to dismiss his concerns as being only figments of his imagination running wild, the oddities as being nothing more than coincidences. He can’t rid himself of this eerie feeling inside, as if it’s foreboding of something bad yet to come.

The lingering dread is only made more pronounced by this sense that someone is watching him, observing him – secretly. He felt the eyes on him during his exchange with Seungho after their argument. He has felt them half a dozen times since.

Nakyum wakes up from his thoughts with a startle, when he notices that he has trailed down to a pathway that he has not taken before. It’s a narrow passage running alongside the walled edge of the residence. It is most likely only used by the servants, as it passes the two smaller structures that are used for storage.

When he walks further down the path, he soon arrives at a small clearing in front of a side entrance. Since even the servants use the main entrance at the front, this must be used rarely. The distinct lack of footprints in the snow corroborates the notion.

He shakes his head at himself for having wandered there thoughtlessly. He is about to turn back, when he notices something towards the edge of the clearing. There is a piece of woolen clothing lying in a crumpled pile on the ground. It is then that he notices something far more chilling.

Nakyum takes a step forward, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He takes another step and another, forcing himself to move. He walks slowly, carefully to what he found. He stops only a few steps away.

He looks at his findings then.

Right there next to the woolen garment, there is a red smudge, bright and stark, mixed into the pure white snow that has been trampled upon. Blood, Nakyum thinks to himself. It cannot be anything else.

Nakyum stands there staring at the scene before him.

While the family kept some animals, they would never be killed or butchered here at the residence. It would be considered impure, ill-fated to do so.

He can look nowhere else, as he is shaking, trembling at this discovery, at the very realization of what this must mean.

The woolen garment that sits next to the blood-stained snow – he recognizes it.

It looks just like the scarf that his servant Deokjae often wears, the servant who Nakyum has not seen since the previous day.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Of reflections and revelations

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: E

Word count: ~2 900 words

Story summary: Nakyum hasn’t still confessed to Seungho. He doesn’t quite know what is stopping him.

This is the second part in a series Of love, devotion and gratitude.

Read below or on AO3.

---

Nakyum is slow to awaken, as the fine threads of dreams drag and stretch. They still hold onto him, as he turns to his side and reaches a hand forward on the mattress.

The space beside him is empty.

Wakefulness doesn’t come with sadness though, even when he finds himself alone in the bed. It comes with joy, as he can’t suffocate the smile that is already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His eyes still closed, he thinks of Seungho, of the previous night. He imagines him before him, on top of him, just as he was then.

He lifts his arms above his head and arches his back in stretching himself. There is a dull throb of pain, no more than a gentle wave that caresses the rocky shores of a beach. He is blissfully sore from the way that Seungho had so carefully ravished him.

Seungho is rough as a lover, but he is generous too. He is thorough. He doesn’t push Nakyum too much, too hard, especially after – everything. He pushes him just enough so that he may drive Nakyum absolutely mad with how much he wants and needs, how much he feels.

Nakyum takes his sweet time lying in the bed, in the sheets that still smell of his lover, before he finally gets up.

The air feels cool on the bare skin of his body. The nights have got colder with the winter that is looming not too far ahead. Seungho’s sleeping quarters are undoubtedly the warmest in the house, but it’s still cool enough to have Nakyum to take his robe from the dresser and slip into it just for warmth.

When he turns to face the room again, he notices the small table that is settled beside the door. It is covered by a dozen or more small dishes.

He walks over to examine the bountiful offering, and it is then that he notices the flower. It is placed next to a cup of sweet treats. He picks it up, his fingers wrapping gently around the stem.

The flower has deep, brilliant red petals, gathered around the soft yellow center. It is one of the few flowers to bloom this late into the year. It is the flower that Seungho picked for him on another day long ago, when they had walked alone in the gardens at the back of the residence, when so much between them had been still fragile, ambivalent.

The words that Seungho said to him then come back to him now, so vivid, as does the soft look in his eyes when he spoke them.

I will come back – soon.

Nakyum’s smile grows wider yet at the memory of it.

He has no doubt that it is Seungho who has picked it for him this time too, it is him who arranged this table to be set here for waiting him. The flower is like a wordless love note left just for him, and it’s only him who can understand it.

---

After a lonesome mid-day meal, Nakyum is sitting by the opened window at Seungho’s sleeping quarters, although the man has yet to return.

He is staring at the view of the courtyard, wholly lost in his thoughts, in the memories.

He thinks of his first winter here, of the time when everything changed. He thinks of how things were between them.

Nakyum was already in love with Seungho then. He suspects he has been in love with him for much longer, only he didn’t realize it. He didn’t even examine his feelings before he learned of Seungho’s.

He lowers his gaze to his hands that lay on his lap, fingers teasing at the loose stitching on the edge of his robe.

He hasn’t still confessed to Seungho.

He hadn’t confessed when Seungho said the words to him for the first time. He hasn’t since, although Seungho has said them to him a dozen times.

He doesn’t quite know what is stopping him.

There is still fear in his heart, he knows. He isn’t afraid to want him, to devote himself to Seungho. There is no fear for that.

Words are more difficult though. He feels vulnerable when he thinks of speaking aloud what he carries in his heart. It feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, contemplating on a step forward that would determine if he would fall or learn to fly.

He is afraid he will get hurt. He knows Seungho will not hurt him willingly, but he is still afraid.

The heart of an artist is made of the finest porcelain, pure and beautiful but too easily shattered into a thousand little pieces.

Nakyum shifts his eyes towards the flower again that he had laid on the dresser.

Seungho is not afraid. He hasn’t been since he spoke the words.

He has expressed his feelings in words plenty of times. He had expressed them in acts of care and kindness even more.

Seungho isn’t afraid.

Maybe it’s in him where Nakyum could find his courage too.

Nakyum looks back to the courtyard. The day is cloudy, grey. The sun is hiding behind the nubilous veil, with only a few rays pushing past in stray beams of light.

After a while, his attention is caught by a servant walking towards the entrance in hurried steps. When he looks towards the gated door, he sees Seungho who has just stepped in.

He looks down, as he steps into the courtyard. His head is inclined in greeting the man who comes to meet him. He exchanges a few words with him, shaking his head minutely, before he sends the man on his way.

It is then that Seungho’s eyes turn towards the opened window. They instantly set on Nakyum’s. There is a smile on his lips, small and private, just for him.

Nakyum smiles too, his heart aching with the sight of him. He is always aching for him.

---

They settle down side by side at the long dining table of the common room for the evening meal.

After his return, Seungho came briefly to see Nakyum at his sleeping quarters. He kissed him and whispered to him that he had missed him, which felt – silly, ridiculous, given that they were apart for no more than a few hours. Seungho smiled though in that way that he does on occasion, just for him. In a way that is both cheeky and shy at the same time.

Seeing him like that, Nakyum could not help but respond in kind. He told Seungho that he missed him too.

After, Seungho retreated to his library where Nakyum did not follow.

They did not see each other again until Seungho came to escort him for dinner.

Sitting beside him at the table now, Nakyum leans closer only so that he may get the small cup of sliced sweet cucumbers.

Seungho does not help him to retrieve it, but he leans closer too, his shoulder brushing against Nakyum's. There's a smile on his lips, faint but teasing, although his eyes are cast down while he fills his cup too. It was not accidental that he didn't move or help Nakyum. It was not rudeness either, as it is part of this physical play between them.

As they begin to eat, Nakyum asks Seungho about his day. He answers easily, as if there is nothing he wishes to hide or keep from Nakyum, as if there are no secrets or lies between them, and no need for either.

Nakyum listens to Seungho talk. He doesn't talk much himself.

In listening, his mind soon drifts though.

He said to Seungho that he missed him too.

He has said a lot of things to him, a lot of small admissions of his affections.

He has not said the words that mean the most.

Why could he not say those words? Why does he find them impossible to speak aloud?

Why does he need to say them at all? Why isn't it enough that he feels them?

He is staring down at his cup, lost in his thoughts, when he feels the light touch on his forearm. When he lifts his eyes, they meet Seungho's concerned gaze.

"Are you okay?"

Nakyum nods and says quietly, "I'm fine."

He is not fine.

It is not Seungho who is hurting from the words unspoken. It's Nakyum himself, but he still swallows them down.

---

Nakyum is lying next to Seungho on the mattress, his head pressed on the bare, firm chest. His fingers draw circles on the bare skin, not far from the long scar on Seungho’s side. The one that he had gained in protecting Nakyum.

He is listening to Seungho's deep, rich voice, as he is reading aloud.

In the past few nights, Seungho has been reading him a sweet, heart-aching story of two soulmates separated by time and distance, separated by impossible circumstances. Much of what he has read recently has been romantic. Much of it has been filled with feelings that go far beyond casual, feeble affections.

Nakyum listens, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Hearing the stories of pain and heartache, he is faced with the notion of how very lucky he is to have Seungho now, to be in his arms, safe and so hopelessly in love with him.

He feels lucky not just to have found a lover but to found a confidant and a home too, all in this one person who loves him back, who would give him everything he wished, anything he asked. A person who would do anything to keep him there.

The journey they took to get here was long and winding, and it feels as if it was nearly impossible too. It feels as if it is a story that should be immortalized in the books too.

He listens to Seungho's voice.

Seungho reads the beautiful words on the page, an artful and passionate confession of love. He reads them with his voice low but steady. He reads them as if he is speaking them for Nakyum, saying them for him, meaning them for him.

There is no fear in Seungho in his absolute certainty.

And then, there is no fear for Nakyum either, at least not enough to stop him.

Nakyum takes a deep breath in, and he closes his eyes. He whispers, “I love you too.”

It’s quiet and careful, his admission. It’s hidden behind Seungho’s words, as he continues to read. It’s not lost though, because Seungho falls quiet then.

He doesn’t lower the book, he doesn’t even move. He just breathes if only that.

Nakyum's heart is racing in his chest, faster and harder yet. The fear comes crashing in then, stealing the very breath from his lungs with the force that it rushed in.

He has stepped over the edge of the cliff, into the abyss that awaits beneath.

When Nakyum is about to pull his words back, Seungho finally speaks.

He will not let Nakyum fall.

“I love you so much.”

His voice is thin, frayed though, as if he wasn’t expecting Nakyum’s confession, as if he wasn’t as full of confidence and courage as he always seems to be. Perhaps he was not, is not.

His voice is anguished too, as if he loves him so much that he pains over it too. Perhaps he does love him so very much.

“I love you,” Nakyum says again.

This time it's easier.

This time it's a relief to speak the words, so he says them again – and again. Every time is much bigger of a relief, because he has bottled all of it for far too long, because Seungho didn't let him fall, he never does.

It is Seungho who will always catch him when he falls.

Nakyum can’t help but smile as he says it again.

It is then that Seungho puts his book aside. He turns to Nakyum, and he is pressing a kiss into Nakyum’s smiling mouth before he can say it once more.

---

When Seungho pushes Nakyum onto his back, Nakyum yields.

Seungho is kissing him, lips moving in a tantalizing dance against his mouth. His hand comes to cradle Nakyum’s jaw, to hold him steady when he kisses harder, deeper yet. He kisses Nakyum until he is breathless with it. Even then, Seungho pulls back only for a second or a few.

It’s just long enough for Nakyum to see the half-lidded look on Seungho’s face, just long enough for him to say again, “I love you so much, Nakyum.”

And then, Seungho is kissing him again.

Nakyum allows him.

His hands are on Seungho. One arm is wrapped around his upper back, while the other hand grips his bare shoulder. The muscles tense and punch under his palm, when Seungho’s hand, too, roams down Nakyum’s frame.

Without breaking the kiss, Seungho peels off Nakyum’s clothes. He pushes off to disrobe himself too, his eyes raking down the length of Nakyum. He looks at him as if he has never seen him before.

There is not just want and need in his eyes. There is affection. There is wonder too as if he can't believe that Nakyum is his.

Nakyum extends his hand towards him in an invitation. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he says, “I love you, my Lord.”

Seungho doesn't stay away any longer.

He rejoins Nakyum with kisses and touches that are quick to trail down. He laves his torso with kisses, his hand smoothing down what his lips don’t caress. He does it with such care that leaves no inch untouched. He does it with such skills that leaves Nakyum nearly oblivious to all else.

Only when he glances down, does he realize that dispersed between the kisses, there are quiet words of love and admiration whispered into his bare skin.

When he gets down, Seungho doesn't hesitate to take him into his mouth. It is then that Nakyum has to look away, to close his eyes.

It is with feverish attention and dedication that Seungho prepares him. He does more than that. He brings Nakyum such pleasure that it’s almost impossible to bear.

“Please,” Nakyum begs and grips at his shoulder.

Seungho releases him then. When Nakyum looks down, he finds Seungho already staring at him, his eyes dark and intense. They stay on his, as he moves closer to Nakyum.

Their gaze is only broken when Seungho glances down between them to take a hold of himself, to guide himself where Nakyum longs to have him. He lifts his eyes back to Nakyum’s though before he pushes into him.

He stills upon being fully sheathed. He blinks his eyes a few times, before he closes them and presses his face against the crook of Nakyum’s neck. He breathes.

"You wreck me, Nakyum," Seungho says, his voice quiet, anguished, "Must you always wreck me so?"

Nakyum is too overwhelmed to respond. He doesn’t get the chance before Seungho begins to move. It’s impossible after.

Seungho thrusts into him, his moves careful and controlled. He wraps his around Nakyum’s shoulder, but the grip is strong, almost painful in its hold. With his face hidden, it is what betrays him, what betrays the need, the despair that he hides inside.

Nakyum feels it too, that despair. He feels much more.

To be this close to him now fills Nakyum with so much emotion that it has tears prickling behind his closed eyelids.

Overwhelmed, Nakyum knows he can’t last long. He can’t find the words to express it, as his hands grapple to pull him closer yet. He speaks only words he knows, he finds now.

"Please," Nakyum says, as the first tear rolls down his cheek, "Seungho, please. I love you."

Seungho doesn't respond in words, but he can’t swallow down the low moan upon hearing Nakyum’s either. He still responds, with all of himself. He grips Nakyum’s hip and thrusts into him, hard and fast. He does it, relentlessly.

Nakyum cries aloud when the pleasure rips through him. He writhes, bucking against Seungho half a dozen or so times until he finds his pleasures too.

When they sag against the mattress in a breathless heap, the tears brim to Nakyum’s eyes. He can’t stop them from falling. He can’t stop the sobs from escaping his lips.

Seungho pulls back in an instant, confused and concerned. His hand on Nakyum’s shoulder and his eyes on his, he asks, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

More tears well into Nakyum’s eyes. He swallows heavily, his voice weak and frail when he replies.

“No, I just -… I love you so much.”

There is relief in Seungho’s eyes when he hears the words. There is understanding too, because he knows what it means to hold back, to harbor the words inside.

His hand comes to cradle Nakyum’s jaw once more. He kisses him then, sweet and tender, before he presses his forehead against Nakyum’s.

"I know you do," Seungho says in a whisper against his lips, "and I love you too."

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Of regret and gratitude

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~18 300 words

Story summary: A lot of things have changed between Seungho and Nakyum, but a lot of things have remained the same too. With time and proximity, they continue to change and grow though. They learn more of each other, of themselves. This allows them to grow closer yet, to be more open with each other too.

***A future fic, set in the Josean period, after the events of the canon. This is largely exploration of their characters and relationship dynamic

Read the story on AO3.

This is the first part in a series Of love, devotion and gratitude.