Felix Centric One Shots

Death's Mate (Minlix)

"In the darkness of death, love is the only thing that can save him."

"You brought a human here?"

The accusation came sharp and immediate from Changbin, shoulders squared and voice rumbling with barely restrained fire. His eyes flared briefly, heat curling in the air like smoke. "Are you out of your damn mind, Minho?"

Minho didn't flinch. He just stood there, arms crossed, his long black coat brushing the cold stone floor of their hall. "He was dying."

"And since when do you care?" Hyunjin's voice was smooth, laced with amusement but lined with suspicion. He lounged on the arm of the throne, fingers tapping lazily against the wood, his golden eyes watching Minho like a predator sizing up prey. "You, of all of us, the demon of the dead—you never intervene."

"That's what I said," Jisung chimed in, perched upside down on a chandelier. "Pretty sure your whole thing is letting people die."

Minho's jaw ticked. "It felt wrong to leave him."

"Wrong?" Jeongin echoed from the shadows, his voice barely above a whisper but it carried the echo of nightmares. "You, the coldest among us, felt something?"

Chan, who had been silent until now, rose slowly from his throne. The air shifted immediately—he didn't need to speak to command the room. Pride radiated from him like a crown, heavy and constant. "Let me see him."

Without a word, Minho turned and led them down the corridor. None of them needed to be told to follow. Curiosity, tension, suspicion—they all swirled around like a storm, and not one of the brothers was going to miss the eye of it.

They reached the chamber where Felix lay unconscious, pale and bruised under the soft glow of healing magic. The wounds crisscrossing his back were deep, cruel. Whoever had hurt him hadn't been aiming to discipline—they'd wanted to destroy.

Hyunjin let out a low whistle. "They whipped him."

"He's barely alive," Changbin muttered, jaw clenched. "Who did this?"

"His father," Seungmin answered calmly, stepping back from the bed where his hands still hovered, glowing faintly with the remnants of his spell. His sharp eyes flicked to Minho. "And yes, before you ask, I read his thoughts. I needed to know if he was a threat."

"Well?" Jeongin asked, arms crossed, shadow curling at his feet like a second skin.

Seungmin looked at all of them, then finally at Minho. "He's not a threat. He's the son of a demon hunter, yes, but he hates them. All of them. Especially his father. He's... different."

Jisung dropped from the chandelier, landing with a soft thud. "Different how?"

"He believes demons are misunderstood," Seungmin said simply. "He doesn't think we're evil. He thinks we're lonely. Hurt. He thinks demons can be kind."

Silence. Then:

"That's adorable," Hyunjin snorted, but the way his eyes lingered on Felix's face said something different. Something softer.

Chan's gaze didn't leave Minho. "You felt his soul, didn't you?"

Minho's hands curled into fists at his sides. "I don't know what I felt. Just... something. He shouldn't have been left there."

"Well, he's here now," Changbin grunted, arms folded. "So what do we do with him?"

"I want to protect him," Minho said quietly, and the room went still again.

Seungmin tilted his head. "You never want anything."

"I know." Minho looked down at Felix, at the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the small sound of his breath. "But I do now."