#ignited a false hope | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seospicybin · 2 months ago

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I PUT A SPELL ON YOU TOO.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Related chapter: I Put A Spell On You.

Synopsis: Having a common enemy, you and Hyunjin work together to secure your futures. With your witchcraft, the plan sets in motion, the boundaries between right and wrong blur, and secrets begin to unravel, leaving you and Hyunjin bound by more than just circumstance. (22,4k words)

Author's note: It's Friday the 13th, join the circle and enjoy this piece of magic ♡

I PUT A SPELL ON YOU PLAYLIST 🎧

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Neither the story, the characters nor the spells are real (but if it works, do tell me though!)

The first light of dawn filters through the blinds, painting faint golden streaks across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of burning sage, the smoke curling lazily upward before dissipating into the stillness of the room.

You stand barefoot before the altar, its surface a collection of well-worn spellbooks, crystals, and a single flickering candle. The morning ritual is second nature to you now—a daily reminder of the power simmering beneath your skin, waiting to be unleashed.

With steady hands, you trace the sigil carved into the small bowl before you. The words come easily, slipping past your lips like a promise:

“With fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.”

The candle flame responds, leaping higher for a moment before settling back into its steady glow. The familiar hum of energy vibrates through your body, faint but undeniable. It’s not enough yet—your magic is still rebuilding, still growing—but it’s there. A spark, waiting to ignite.

You inhale deeply, the air filling your lungs with a mix of hope and resolve. Every day brings you closer to reclaiming the strength you once had, closer to the moment when the world will finally recognize your worth.

Reaching for the almanac resting at the edge of your altar, you flip to the marked date. The book feels heavy in your hands, the weight of countless predictions and warnings etched into its pages. Your eyes skim the delicate handwriting, pausing on the entry for today:

"The winds shift in the favor of the wary, but beware those who wield false crowns. Their power is fleeting, but their reach is long."

A chill runs through you, the words sinking in like a stone in still water. False crowns. Your mind flickers to the new CEO, the unsettling man who now occupies the highest seat in the company. You’ve felt his shadow looming since the day he arrived, his presence like a storm cloud waiting to break.

You close the almanac with a soft thud, the foreboding message settling heavily in your chest. The city stirs outside your window, but in this quiet moment, it feels as though time stands still.

You glance at your reflection in the nearby mirror, studying the determination etched into your features. You’ve come so far, yet there’s still so much to do.

Today is just another step forward, another piece of the puzzle. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them head-on. The world doesn’t know it yet, but its days of underestimating you are numbered.

“Today the world bends, and all power is mine.”

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and there he is—Hyunjin. Perfectly dressed as always, his hair immaculate, his expression cool and distant. He steps in without a glance in your direction, his presence commanding the small space like a storm that doesn’t need to rage to be felt. You step back to give him room, not that he notices. He presses the button for his floor, and the doors close, sealing you in together.

The silence is suffocating, a weight pressing down on your chest. You’ve grown used to this—his deliberate ignorance, the way he carries himself as though you don’t exist. It’s not new, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

The memory of his smile, the warmth of his laughter, and the fleeting moments when he looked at you like you were the only person in the world flash through your mind. It’s almost cruel, how vivid those memories are, knowing they mean nothing to him now. To Hyunjin, it’s as if none of it ever happened—as if the love spell never existed, as if you never existed.

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to let it show. After all, no one knows the truth but you. The weight of it is yours alone to carry. Every stolen glance, every pang of longing, every ounce of guilt—it’s all yours. You shift your gaze to the floor, pretending to study the polished tiles. You can’t let yourself get lost in the what-ifs again.

When the elevator chimes for his floor, he steps out without so much as a glance in your direction. No words. Not even a polite nod. You let out a soft sigh once the doors close again, leaning back against the wall. Despite everything—despite his indifference, his coldness, the way he behaves as if you’re a stranger—you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but pride when you think about him.

Hyunjin’s name has been buzzing in the office lately. The whispers of his upcoming promotion are impossible to miss, and the thought of him moving up fills you with quiet satisfaction. He deserves it. Every bit of it. He’s one of the hardest-working people you’ve ever met, and no amount of his harshness toward you can erase that.

For all that’s happened—or hasn’t happened, in his mind—you wish him nothing but the best. It’s a bittersweet truth, but one you’ve come to accept. The elevator finally stops at your floor, and you straighten your shoulders, ready to face the day.

The elevator doors slide open, and Hyunjin steps out, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor. As he moves through the hallway, his mind lingers on the ride he just shared with you.

He hadn’t meant to notice, but he did. That look again—sad and distant, like you were carrying the weight of something invisible. Like you were carrying him.

It’s not the first time he’s caught it, either. The way your eyes linger on him, quiet and heavy with something he can’t name. It unsettles him, that expression. Almost as if he’s hurt you somehow.

He frowns, shaking the thought away as he reaches his office. You’re just a coworker, someone he passes in the halls. Whatever story you’ve written for yourself, whatever sadness you carry—it has nothing to do with him. It *can’t.* Hyunjin sets his bag down on his desk and exhales slowly, trying to refocus. There’s too much on his plate today to be distracted by fleeting glances and unanswered questions. He sits, pulling his laptop open, and begins sorting through the mountain of emails waiting for him.

Barely an hour has passed when his desk phone rings.

“Hyunjin, can you come to my office for a moment?” Mr. Campbell’s voice is clipped, leaving no room for interpretation.

“Of course, sir,” Hyunjin replies, already standing. He smooths his jacket, preparing himself for what he assumes is good news. After all, the whispers of his impending promotion have been growing louder by the day.

The walk to Mr. Campbell’s office feels longer than usual, but Hyunjin steadies his nerves. This is it, he thinks. Finally, recognition for all his hard work.

But when he steps into the office, Mr. Campbell’s expression isn’t celebratory. If anything, it’s tight with discomfort.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Campbell says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. Hyunjin hesitates but complies.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Mr. Campbell begins, folding his hands together. “You’ve been an exceptional employee, Hyunjin. Your performance has been nothing short of stellar, and I’ve personally been advocating for your promotion.”

Hyunjin’s heart begins to race, anticipation bubbling in his chest.

“However,” Mr. Campbell continues, his tone taking a sharp turn, “with the new CEO stepping into the role, there have been… adjustments. Your promotion has been postponed.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. “Postponed?” Hyunjin echoes, his voice tight with disbelief.

“Yes. The position you were being considered for has been filled by someone else, chosen directly by the CEO, Mr. Hargrave himself.”

Hyunjin blinks, struggling to process the words. The work, the late nights, the endless hours of proving himself—it was all for nothing?

“With all due respect, sir,” Hyunjin says, his voice rising slightly, “this is unfair. I’ve worked hard for that promotion. I’ve earned it.”

“I don’t disagree,” Mr. Campbell says, his tone apologetic but firm. “But this decision is out of my hands. The CEO has made his choice.”

Hyunjin clenches his fists, anger simmering beneath the surface. “So, that’s it? Years of dedication mean nothing?”

“I understand your frustration,” Mr. Campbell replies. “But I need you to remain professional about this. There will be other opportunities.”

Hyunjin stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything more without letting his anger slip entirely.

“Thank you for your time,” he says curtly, turning on his heel and leaving the office.

As he stalks back to his desk, the weight of the conversation settles heavily on his shoulders. The unfairness of it burns in his chest. How could this happen? How could they just take everything he’s worked for and hand it to someone else?

His jaw tightens as he sits back down, trying to focus, but the injustice keeps replaying in his mind. He’s not just upset—he’s furious.

And for the first time in a long time, Hyunjin feels something dangerous brewing beneath the surface.

The boardroom feels unusually tense this morning. The usual low buzz of pre-meeting chatter is muted, replaced by an air of nervous anticipation. It’s your first meeting with Flint Hargrave, the new CEO, and even without the rumors, you’d know he’s not a man to be trifled with.

You take a seat at the long, polished table, your folder of documents in front of you. Flint hasn’t arrived yet, but you’ve already heard the whispers—he’s harsh, demanding, and utterly unyielding. A few employees exchange worried glances as they shuffle their papers, the tension palpable.

When the doors open, all conversation ceases. Flint strides into the room, his presence immediately commanding attention. He’s tall and sharply dressed, his suit immaculate. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—cold, piercing, and calculating—scan the room like he’s sizing up prey.

You don’t falter under his gaze. If he’s looking for weakness, he won’t find it here.

As the meeting begins, you wait for your turn, forcing yourself to focus. When it finally comes, you stand, walking to the head of the room where the projector is already set up. Taking a deep breath, you begin your presentation.

Your voice is steady as you explain your proposal, detailing the steps, objectives, and the benefits it would bring to both the company and its employees. You make eye contact with the board members and occasionally glance at Flint, gauging his reaction.

Unlike some higher-ups, Flint doesn’t interrupt or appear distracted. He leans slightly forward, his hands folded on the table, giving you his full attention. His gaze is steady and sharp, making you feel like you’re under a microscope.

By the time you finish, you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe Flint isn’t the tyrant everyone claims he is.

The room is silent for a moment before Flint speaks for the first time.

“Thank you,” he begins, his tone professional but firm. “Your presentation was clear, and the proposal has merit.”

You feel a small sense of relief.

“However,” Flint continues, his gaze locking onto yours, “I have a few adjustments I’d like to make before I approve this.”

He leans back slightly, his tone calm but carrying an edge of authority as he outlines his demands. The adjustments he proposes are subtle but significant, reshaping the very purpose of your proposal. They would disserve the employees, prioritizing cost-cutting and efficiency over fairness and well-being.

You clench your hands beneath the table, keeping your expression neutral. As he speaks, you realize this isn’t just a misunderstanding—Flint knows exactly what he’s doing.

When he finishes, you respond as diplomatically as possible. “Thank you for your input, Mr. Hargrave. However, I believe these adjustments might undermine the goals of the proposal, particularly in terms of employee satisfaction and long-term productivity.”

Flint doesn’t flinch and daringly holds your gaze. “I appreciate your perspective, but my priority is ensuring that the company operates at maximum efficiency. Your proposal is promising, but it needs to align with those objectives.”

“But,” you persist, your tone steady, “if we implement those changes, it could lead to dissatisfaction among the employees, which in turn could impact overall morale and performance. This proposal was designed to balance both efficiency and employee well-being.”

Flint leans forward, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “This isn’t a negotiation. If you want my approval, you’ll make the adjustments.”

The room falls silent. Every pair of eyes is on you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. You swallow your frustration, your mind racing. Flint isn’t just demanding changes—he’s testing you, pushing to see how far you’ll bend.

“Understood,” you say finally, your voice even. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you rattle.

Flint nods, his expression unreadable. “Good. I expect the revised proposal on my desk by the end of the week.”

As the meeting adjourns, you gather your materials, your stomach sinking. Flint has made it clear that he’s not a man who compromises—and now you’re left to figure out how to deal with him.

The meeting room empties slowly, the air still charged with the weight of Flint’s words. You gather your things methodically, trying to shake the tension from your shoulders.

As you step out, the sight of Hyunjin catches your attention. He’s on your floor. For a moment, your heart stirs with hope, and you almost smile.

Has he finally been promoted? The thought alone is enough to bring a flicker of happiness amidst the dread of Flint’s demands.

But that moment of hope is short-lived.

Hyunjin’s stride is brisk, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating anger. He brushes past you without so much as a glance, his eyes locked on one target: Flint.

You pause, watching as he storms toward the man who’s still lingering near the doorway of the meeting room, flanked by his assistant.

“You!” Hyunjin’s voice echoes across the floor, sharp and furious. Heads turn as his words cut through the low hum of office chatter. “How dare you sabotage my promotion!”

Flint doesn’t flinch, his expression as calm as ever. If anything, his interest seems mildly piqued, as though Hyunjin’s outburst is merely an inconvenience he anticipated.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop, one index finger pointed at Flint’s chest. “I’ve worked my ass off for this position! I’ve earned it!” His voice rises with every word. “You think you can just walk in here and decide I’m not good enough? You don’t even know me!”

The assistant takes a nervous step back, but Flint doesn’t move. His hands rest loosely at his sides, his gaze locked on Hyunjin with unsettling composure.

“Mr. Hwang,” Flint finally says, his voice smooth and unbothered. “I understand you’re upset—”

“Upset?” Hyunjin snaps, cutting him off. “Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re not fit to be CEO if this is how you run things! Favoring people who haven’t put in half the work I have? What kind of leadership is that?”

You stand frozen, your files clutched tightly in your hands. You’ve seen Hyunjin upset before, but this is different. His rage is fiery, unrestrained, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s about to lunge at Flint.

But Flint remains unshaken. His calm is unnerving, as if he’s watching a predictable scene unfold rather than being the target of Hyunjin’s anger.

Security steps in before things escalate further. Two guards approach swiftly, placing themselves between Hyunjin and Flint.

“That’s enough, Mr. Hwang,” one of them says firmly, motioning for Hyunjin to step back.

Hyunjin clenches his fists, his jaw tight. For a moment, it looks like he might resist, but after a tense pause, he takes a step back, his breathing heavy and labored.

“This isn’t over,” Hyunjin mutters, his glare piercing.

The guards escort him away, leaving a stunned silence in their wake. You glance back at Flint, hoping to gauge his reaction, but his expression remains unreadable.

As the hallway clears, Flint turns to his assistant, his voice low but deliberate. “Have Hwang’s file on my desk. Immediately.”

The assistant nods and rushes off without a word.

Your stomach sinks. You’ve already seen how Flint operates—calculated and unyielding. And now, with Hyunjin’s outburst, it’s clear he’s caught Flint’s attention in the worst way.

A chill runs down your spine as you walk back to your desk, your thoughts racing. Flint doesn’t let things go. He doesn’t forgive. And after what you’ve just witnessed, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s already planning something sinister for Hyunjin.

You sit down, your hands trembling slightly as you replay the scene in your mind. Hyunjin’s fiery passion versus Flint’s icy composure—it’s a clash that could destroy everything.

And for the first time, you wonder if Hyunjin’s rage will be his downfall.

The night is heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustling of pages as you flip through your book of spells. The faint light from a single candle flickers, casting long shadows across your workspace. The book lies open before you, its yellowed pages filled with faded script and intricate diagrams.

Your eyes scan the instructions, pausing on a ritual for protection. It’s a spell you’ve never attempted before, but tonight, it feels necessary. Flint’s chilling composure and whispered orders earlier still linger in your mind, and the memory of Hyunjin’s fiery rage has etched itself into your heart.

You gather the ingredients, laying them out meticulously: A sprig of rosemary for clarity and purification. A small piece of obsidian for shielding against negativity. A dried bay leaf for protection. A strand of your own hair, tying your energy to the spell.

You pull out a small black pouch and place it beside the items. The air feels charged as you light a bundle of sage, letting the smoke cleanse the space. You place the rosemary and obsidian into the pouch first, followed by the bay leaf. With each addition, you focus on Hyunjin—his face, his energy, his fiery determination. Finally, you add the strand of your hair, knotting the ends to hold your intent firmly in place.

With the pouch in your hands, you draw a protective circle around yourself with chalk, marking the edges with small crystals. Sitting cross-legged at its center, you hold the pouch close to your heart, the candlelight reflecting in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you chant: “By leaf and stone, by flame and thread. Shield him well from paths of dread. Let no harm pierce, let no ill stay. Protect him now, by night and day.”

You repeat the words three times, your voice steady, each syllable carrying your intent into the universe. As you chant, you feel a warmth build in your chest, spreading through your hands and into the pouch. The air grows still, as if the world is holding its breath.

When the final word leaves your lips, the candle flickers wildly before extinguishing itself, leaving you in darkness. A shiver runs down your spine, but you know the ritual is complete.

Carefully, you tie the pouch shut with a red thread, knotting it three times for strength. You hold it in your hands, the weight of it light yet significant.

“This will protect you,” you whisper, imagining Hyunjin’s face. “This will keep you safe.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to hope. Even if Hyunjin never knows what you’ve done for him, even if he never remembers what you once shared, at least you can still protect him.

The office is unusually quiet during lunch breaks, and you know this is your best chance. Taking a deep breath, you reach into your bag and pull out the small talisman you crafted for Hyunjin.

The pouch feels warm in your hand, almost pulsing with the protective magic you infused into it. You look around to make sure no one is watching and quickly make your way to Hyunjin’s desk. His briefcase is propped open, papers and files neatly organized inside. With steady hands, you slip the talisman into one of the inner compartments, tucking it safely beneath a folder.

A sense of relief washes over you as you straighten up. It’s done. Hyunjin might not know it, but he has a layer of protection now. Even if you’re unsure of how strong your magic is, you’ve done everything you can to help him.

You return to your desk, a small flicker of hope settling in your chest. Despite everything, you’ve done something good for him.

Later that day, as the clock approaches the hour for your meeting with Flint, an uneasy feeling creeps into your stomach. The hallway to his office feels colder than usual, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. Clutching your notebook to your chest, you silently chant your usual spell under your breath as you walk:

“With fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.”

The words give you a fragile sense of courage, but it falters when you reach the heavy oak door. Taking a deep breath, you knock.

“Come in,” Flint’s voice calls, low and authoritative.

You step inside, shutting the door softly behind you. Flint is seated at his desk, an imposing figure with a sharp suit and an even sharper gaze. The room smells faintly of leather and coffee, and the blinds are half-drawn, casting slanted shadows across the desk.

As you stand there, your eyes flicker briefly to the stack of files on his desk. Among them, unmistakably, is Hyunjin’s file. Your stomach tightens, but you quickly shift your focus back to Flint as he speaks.

“Well?” Flint says, his tone cool but demanding. “Have you made the adjustments I requested?”

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve reviewed your demands, sir, and I wanted to suggest a few alternative approaches that could meet the company’s goals without—” Flint raises a hand, silencing you. His gaze is sharp, almost predatory. “Let me stop you right there. I wasn’t asking for alternatives. I was asking if you’ve done what I told you to do.”

Swallowing hard, you summon your courage. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe those adjustments align with the purpose of my proposal. They would negatively impact employee morale, and—”

Flint leans back in his chair, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across his face. “You’re quite bold, aren’t you? I admire your spirit, though I’m starting to wonder if it’s misplaced.”

The air in the room grows heavier as he continues, his voice cutting like a blade. “You know, for someone in your position, you’d think you’d know better than to argue with your superior. Maybe this is why women like you struggle to make it past middle management.”

His words hit you like a slap, but you keep your expression steady. “I don’t see why that has something to do with my ability to do my job, Mr. Hargrave?” you ask, your voice firm but controlled.

Flint’s smirk doesn’t waver. Instead, he leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers steepled. “Oh, I’m sure you think that. But let me remind you, this isn’t about fairness or ideals. This is about doing what you’re told.”

You feel your pulse quicken, your grip on your notebook tightening as he continues.

“If you want to keep rebelling against me,” he says, his tone almost taunting, “go right ahead. But I’d be very careful if I were you. You might not like what happens next.”

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at him as the weight of his words settles over you. Flint is dangerous—more dangerous than you realized. His calm demeanor only makes him more threatening, and you’re reminded once again that this is not a man to cross.

Summoning what little composure you have left, you nod. “Understood, sir,” you say, your voice quieter now.

Flint leans back in his chair, satisfied, and waves a hand dismissively. “Good. Now, get back to work.”

You turn on your heel and leave the office, your heart pounding as you step into the hallway. The door clicks shut behind you, and only then do you allow yourself to take a shaky breath.

Walking back to your desk, you can’t shake the image of Hyunjin’s file sitting on Flint’s desk. Whatever Flint is planning, it won’t just affect you—it’ll affect him too. And no matter how dangerous Flint is, you know you have to do something.

A few days have passed, and you begin to feel a slight sense of relief. The talisman is working, or at least you hope it is. Despite seeing Hyunjin's file on Flint’s desk that day, nothing significant has happened. Hyunjin still walks through the halls, just as indifferent as ever. And you... well, you’re still the same.

Watching him from afar, your heart quietly aching for the bond you both shared, but knowing it’s gone, just like the magic you once cast on him.

As usual, you take the elevator down to the parking basement, stealing glances at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye. The elevator is crowded, and it’s hard to even think of doing anything but keeping your distance.

The silence between you two is deafening, as if the space around you had a barrier, both emotional and physical. You want to say something, anything, but the words are lost before they can even form.

The elevator dings, signaling your stop. The doors open, and you step out, your eyes lowering to the ground as you make your way toward your car. You tell yourself to let go of the past, but the weight of it lingers, thick in the air.

You unlock the door to your car, your hand trembling slightly as you grip the handle.

"Wait."

You spin around at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice, your heart pounding in your chest. Before you can react, he grabs your elbow and flips you around, his grip firm but not painful. The world seems to slow as you look up into his eyes—eyes that are no longer filled with warmth but something else. Something searching.

“What is this?” Hyunjin demands, holding up the small talisman you slipped into his briefcase, his expression tense, almost accusing. His eyes narrow as he waits for your answer.

Your heart drops into your stomach. You hadn't expected this. He found it. The talisman.

"It's... it’s uh..." you say, trying to steady your voice, but it comes out quieter than you intended. "A talisman."

His grip tightens around your wrist, his expression hardening. “A talisman?” His tone is sharp with disbelief. "What did you do to me? Did you curse me?"

The accusation stings, but you quickly shake your head. "No, no curse. It’s meant to protect you."

He doesn't let go of your wrist. "Protect me?" His eyes search yours, but there's a flicker of something else—suspicion. "Why would you protect me?"

The question hangs in the air, and you feel the truth swelling in your chest, but you can’t speak it. The reason you want to protect him... because you care. You care too much. But you can’t admit that to him. Not now. Not when everything between you has been reduced to this awkward distance.

You swallow hard and blur the truth. "I saw your file on Flint’s desk. I know he plans on doing something to you. I don’t want you to get hurt," you say quickly.

"And I hate Flint too. I do. I know this one spell so I think we could work together to take him down. I just need your—”

You can feel his grip falter slightly, but then his gaze flickers to something else entirely. Something that causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

"Wait... are you saying you actually practice witchcraft?" he asks, his voice shaking with a mix of incredulity and fear.

The world spins. You don’t even know how to respond. You could lie, but his eyes are burning into yours, and for some reason, lying doesn’t feel like an option. Not now.

"Yes," you say softly, unable to stop yourself.

He stares at you in silence for a long moment, and you feel as if the air has been sucked out of the world around you. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, the shock, the disbelief, the fear all rising to the surface. It’s too much. Too much for him to process.

And then, before you can say anything else, you hear it—the words you never wanted to hear.

“Stay away from me.”

The coldness in his voice cuts through you like a blade. It’s like an icy wall has been erected between you, one you can’t get past. The small spark of hope you’d held onto—the hope that Hyunjin might remember, might somehow feel something for you again—dies in that instant.

You take a step back, unable to move for a moment, before you finally blink and lower your gaze. His words echo in your mind, a cruel reminder of how much you’ve lost.

“Hyunjin, I—”

He interrupts, his tone harsh now. “I don’t want anything to do with you. Don’t ever come near me again. Don’t use your... your magic on me.”

His words sting, like acid on an open wound. And all you can do is nod, silent tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there. The good you tried to do has backfired completely. The last shred of hope you had is shattered.

And now, it’s clear: Hyunjin will never see you the way you want him to.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens when he spots you heading toward the elevator at the same time as him. His gaze sharpens, and he throws you a glare as if to remind you of the boundary he firmly set. You stop in your tracks, hesitating as if his silent warning alone is enough to keep you at bay.

The elevator doors slide open, and Hyunjin steps inside without sparing you another glance. But just before the doors close, he catches that look on your face again—the same sad, almost resigned expression that’s been haunting him lately. It lingers in his mind for a moment before he forces it away with a shake of his head.

Arriving at the office floor, Hyunjin immediately senses something is off. Several of his colleagues are gathered around his desk, rifling through his drawers and gathering his belongings. Anger bubbles to the surface as he storms over.

“What the hell are you doing with my stuff?” Hyunjin demands, his voice cutting through the commotion.

One of his coworkers flinches, looking away uncomfortably, while another mutters, “Sorry, Hyunjin, we were told—”

“Told by who?” he snaps, but before he can press further, someone places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hyunjin,” comes the calm yet weary voice of Mr. Campbell, his superior. “I need you to come with me to my office.”

Hyunjin hesitates, his eyes darting to the boxed-up items on his desk. “What’s going on?”

Mr. Campbell only sighs and gestures for him to follow. Reluctantly, Hyunjin obeys, but unease twists in his stomach as he steps into the office.

Once seated, Mr. Campbell doesn’t waste time. “Hyunjin, the company has received an anonymous tip that you’ve been sharing confidential intel with a competitor.”

The words hit Hyunjin like a punch to the gut. His brow furrows in disbelief. “What? That’s ridiculous! I would never—”

“I know, and frankly, I don’t believe it either,” Mr. Campbell interjects. “But these are serious allegations, and the audit team is already investigating. Until they conclude their review, you’re suspended.”

Hyunjin shoots to his feet, his frustration boiling over. “This is Flint, isn’t it? He’s trying to get rid of me!”

Mr. Campbell raises a hand to calm him. “Hyunjin, I understand your anger, but making accusations without evidence will only make things worse for you. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you go home and let the audit team do their work.”

Hyunjin clenches his fists, his mind racing. Every fiber of his being screams at him to march straight into Flint’s office and confront him, but Mr. Campbell’s warning rings in his ears. After a tense moment, he exhales sharply and storms out of the office.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Instead of heading home as Mr. Campbell suggested, Hyunjin finds himself at a bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in the middle of the day. The amber liquid burns his throat, but it’s a welcome distraction from the storm brewing in his mind. He feels angry, frustrated, and—though he hates to admit it—utterly defeated. Flint had outmaneuvered him, and now he was sidelined, his career hanging by a thread.

He shoves a hand into his coat pocket, his fingers brushing against something unfamiliar. Frowning, he pulls it out and stares at the small pouch you had slipped into his briefcase. The talisman.

For a moment, he debates tossing it right then and there, but something stops him. He knows he should’ve burned it the second he discovered it, should’ve gotten rid of it if he truly believed it might bring him bad luck. Yet, as he observes it now, he feels a flicker of curiosity rather than fear.

Your words echo in his mind. “I hate Flint too. We could work together to take him down.”

Hyunjin takes another sip of his drink, the idea slowly settling in. Teaming up with you doesn’t seem entirely ridiculous anymore. After all, the enemy of his enemy should be his ally. But before he makes any decisions, he wants to confirm something first.

By the time he steps out of the bar, the sun has already begun its descent. With his phone in hand, he searches for the address of a shop he’d found online earlier—a place that specializes in witchcraft. It’s not long before he arrives at an unassuming storefront with a sign that reads “Moonlit Mystics.”

The moment Hyunjin pushes open the door, he’s hit by the pungent scent of sage. The interior is dimly lit, cluttered with shelves full of crystals, candles, herbs, and other esoteric items. It’s exactly what he expected, almost to the point of being a cliché.

“Welcome,” a woman’s voice greets him from behind the counter.

Hyunjin turns to see a middle-aged woman with a serene expression, her dark hair streaked with silver. She’s dressed in flowing fabrics, her bracelets jangling as she leans forward.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice warm yet curious as she studies him.

Hyunjin hesitates for a second before stepping closer and placing the talisman on the counter. “I found this in my bag and I need your help to know what is this.”

The woman picks it up delicately, her eyes narrowing as she examines it. She unties the pouch and carefully empties the contents—a sprig of rosemary, a small piece of obsidian, and other small tokens—onto the counter.

“This,” she says, her tone thoughtful, “is a protection talisman.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “Protection?”

She nods, pointing at each item as she explains. “The rosemary wards off negative energy, the obsidian absorbs harmful intentions, and the other elements… they’re all chosen to shield the bearer from harm. Whoever made this put a lot of care into it.”

Hyunjin stares at the talisman, a strange mixture of relief and unease washing over him. Your explanation was true. There was no curse, no sinister intent—just protection.

“That’s all?” he asks, needing the reassurance one more time.

The woman smiles and slides the opened talisman back to him. “That’s all. You’ve got nothing to fear from this.”

Hyunjin thanks her quietly and leaves the shop, slipping the talisman back into his pocket. As he steps into the cool evening air, a thought settles in his mind.

Maybe you weren’t as dangerous as he’d first assumed.

Your fingers skim over the faded pages of the spellbook, the faint scent of aged parchment and herbs filling the air around you. The ritual you’ve been studying for days is intricate, layered with steps that demand precision and, more dauntingly, someone else’s involvement.

You’ve read and reread every line, trying to find a way to execute it alone. Hyunjin is no longer an option, and though the thought leaves a bitter pang in your chest, you know you can’t afford distractions. Flint has to be dealt with, and you can’t let emotions—especially feelings for someone who now despises you—get in the way.

A sharp knock at the door snaps you out of your thoughts. You jolt upright, your heartbeat quickening. You aren’t expecting anyone, and for a moment, paranoia creeps in. Has Flint somehow discovered your plans? Bracing yourself, you approach the door and crack it open, only to freeze in place.

Hyunjin. It’s impossible not to think of the last time he showed up unannounced. Back then, his smile was warm, lighting up the space between you like a ray of sunshine. Now, that warmth is gone, replaced with a neutral expression that borders on cold. Still, it’s him. And despite everything, seeing him standing there stirs a flicker of hope deep inside you.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his tone low and guarded.

Wordlessly, you step aside, letting him in. Hyunjin walks past you, his gaze sweeping over your small apartment. His eyes linger on the shelves lined with books, jars of herbs, and candles. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he takes it all in, piecing together your world.

Finally, he turns to face you. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

You cross your arms, unsure of where this is going. “What about it?”

“That we could work together to take Flint down.”

Your eyes widen. Of all the things you expected, this wasn’t it. “You’re serious?”

He nods. “We have a common enemy, don’t we? And after everything that’s happened…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “Let’s just say I’m willing to reconsider.”

You study him carefully, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Why the change of heart?”

Hyunjin shrugs, his tone nonchalant. “Because I hate him. And I think you do too.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “That’s putting it lightly.”

He takes a step closer, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “So? What’s the plan?”

For a moment, you hesitate. Bringing Hyunjin into your world again—after everything that’s happened—feels risky. But he’s here, willing, and you need his help.

Wordlessly, you walk over to the table where your spellbook lies open and gesture for him to follow. As he approaches, you turn the book toward him, pointing at the page outlining the ritual.

“This,” you say, your voice steady, “is the ultimate plan.”

Hyunjin leans in, his eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and detailed instructions. The more he reads, the more his brows furrow. When he finally straightens up, his expression is a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

“You’re serious about this?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Yes,” you reply.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, breaking the tension in the room. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

You can’t tell if it’s an insult or a compliment, but you choose to ignore it. Instead, you get straight to the point.

“I need you to follow Flint,” you say. “Learn his routine, his habits, where he goes when he’s not at the office. It’ll help me figure out the best time and place to execute this.”

Hyunjin crosses his arms, still smirking. “So I’m your spy now?”

“If you want Flint gone as much as I do, then yes.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to believe in all this…” He gestures vaguely at the book. “Magic stuff.”

You meet his gaze, your voice firm. “You don’t have to believe in it. You just have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Hyunjin stares at you for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. Let’s see where this takes us.”

For the first time in days, you feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the two of you can pull this off.

Hyunjin knocks on your door, his mind a whirlwind of frustration. He’s spent the entire day tailing Flint, only to come up empty. Tight security, bodyguards, private drivers—Flint might as well be untouchable. He’s ready to let you know just how impossible your plan is when the door swings open, and there you are.

You don’t look surprised to see him, but your calm demeanor only adds to his irritation. “Come in,” you say simply, stepping aside.

Hyunjin steps into your apartment, glancing around out of habit. The room feels different tonight—dim, shadows stretching across the walls, and that faint smell of something herbal lingering in the air. It makes his skin prickle. His eyes land on the open spellbook on your table, pages marked with symbols he doesn’t understand, and for a second, he wonders just what kind of person he’s teamed up with.

“Did you find anything?” you ask, sitting down at the table.

Hyunjin exhales sharply, dropping into the chair opposite you. “Flint’s a ghost wrapped in money and muscle. He lives in a penthouse with security tighter than a vault. He’s got his assistant slash his bodyguard with him at all times, a driver who doesn’t leave his side, and the only place he goes after work is some exclusive club. And guess what? That place is crawling with security too.”

You nod slowly, processing his words without a hint of panic. It annoys him. “So, no easy access,” you say, almost to yourself.

“None,” Hyunjin says bitterly. “This whole thing is a waste of time.”

But you don’t look deterred. Instead, you lean back in your chair, tapping a finger against the table. “There is one way,” you say, voice steady.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “And what’s that?”

“I’ll seduce him.”

He blinks, sure he must have misheard you. “What?”

You meet his stare, unwavering. “If I make him interested in me, I can get close to him. Close enough to do what needs to be done.”

Hyunjin stares at you, caught between disbelief and a strange, simmering unease. “Are you serious? You think Flint would go for someone like you?”

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You’d be surprised what I can do.”

Something about the confidence in your voice sends a shiver down his spine. He tries to shake it off, folding his arms across his chest. “This is insane. And dangerous.”

“Everything about this is dangerous,” you shoot back, leaning forward now. “But do you have a better idea?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. He knows you’re right—there’s no other way. Still, the thought of Flint and you in the same room, let alone this… plan, twists something uncomfortable in his gut.

“What do you need from me?” he asks reluctantly.

“I need you to get something for me,” you say, your tone shifting.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Flint’s hair.”

For a moment, he thinks you’re joking. When your expression doesn’t change, he feels his stomach drop. “His hair? Why the hell do you need that?”

“For a spell,” you say simply, as if that’s supposed to make sense.

Hyunjin stares at you, his jaw tightening. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of spell?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

The casual way you dismiss his question only makes his unease grow. He leans forward, trying to read your expression, but you’re impossible to decipher. “You’re asking me to steal a piece of his hair, and you’re not even going to tell me why?”

“Exactly,” you say, meeting his gaze head-on.

Hyunjin leans back, running a hand through his own hair. This is reckless. This is dangerous. And yet…

“Fine,” he says finally. “I’ll figure out a way to get it. But this better not blow up in our faces.”

“It won’t,” you say quickly.

Hyunjin doesn’t believe you, not fully. But he’s already in too deep to back out now. Standing, he shoves his hands into his coat pockets and heads for the door. Before he leaves, he glances back at you, still sitting at that table with your strange book and your even stranger confidence.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” he mutters before stepping out into the night.

As the door shuts behind him, a chill creeps up his spine. This alliance feels like walking a tightrope over a pit of flames, but what choice does he have?

After Hyunjin leaves, the apartment feels eerily quiet. You close the door and stand there for a moment, staring at the space he just occupied. There’s a heaviness in your chest, but you push it aside. There’s no time to dwell on emotions when there’s so much to be done.

You grab your spellbook from the table and flip through its worn pages, searching for the ritual you need. The words blur slightly under the dim light, but you recognize the spell when you see it—the ritual to enhance allure, to make yourself irresistible, particularly to a specific target.

Flint may be powerful, but magic is older and stronger than any man.

Taking the book with you, you head to the bathroom. You start by filling the tub, the sound of running water echoing around the small space. As the water rises, you gather the ingredients: dried rose petals for attraction, cinnamon for warmth and desire, honey to sweeten your aura, and a single white candle for purity of intention.

You kneel by the tub, the steam rising to kiss your face. One by one, you add the ingredients to the water, watching as the petals swirl and the honey dissolves. The cinnamon spreads like whispers of fire across the surface, and you swirl it all together with your hand, moving clockwise.

Closing your eyes, you begin to chant:

"By water’s flow and fire’s light. Let allure be my gift this night. Rose and honey, sweet and true. Let my charm be seen by you. By earth and air, my power takes flight. Grant me allure, shining bright."

The words feel heavy on your tongue, their weight sinking into the water as you chant. The air in the bathroom shifts, thickening with an unseen energy.

You remove your clothes and step into the tub, the warm, fragrant water enveloping you. A shiver runs through your body—not from the temperature, but from the unmistakable pulse of magic that seems to seep into your skin, wrapping itself around you like a second layer.

As you sink deeper into the water, you chant the spell again, your voice softer this time, almost a whisper:

"By water’s flow and fire’s light. Let allure be my gift this night."

The energy hums beneath your skin, subtle but undeniable. You lean back, letting the water cover your body, and close your eyes. For a moment, you feel powerful, invincible.

When you finally step out of the tub, droplets of enchanted water slide down your skin, leaving behind a faint warmth that lingers. You wrap yourself in a towel, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. There’s something different in your eyes—something sharper, more confident.

The almanac is clear: wear blue today. Blue is the color of trust, calmness, and, most importantly, attraction. It’s a shade that commands attention subtly, not overtly.

You pull out a fitted blouse and a pencil skirt, pairing them with heels that click confidently against the floor as you move. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjust your hair and take a deep breath. This isn’t just about Flint seeing you; it’s about him wanting to see you again.

Arriving at work, you keep your plan simple. Flint always leaves his office at some point during the day—whether it’s for a meeting or simply to make his rounds. That’s when you’ll strike.

You grab a stack of files, deliberately choosing ones that look bulky and hard to manage. The weight of them grounds you, keeping your hands from trembling as you wait near the corridor. Minutes feel like hours, but finally, Flint’s door opens, and he steps out, his usual bodyguard trailing behind him.

You start walking, eyes cast downward, pretending to be absorbed in your papers. Just as he’s about to pass you, you execute your move.

“Oh!” you gasp as you stumble slightly, letting the files slip from your grasp. Papers scatter across the floor in a dramatic mess, a symphony of fluttering pages.

You immediately bend down to pick them up, keeping your movements deliberate. You arch your back slightly, your skirt hugging your curves as you gather the scattered papers.

“I'm so sorry, sir,” you say softly, glancing up at Flint through your lashes. Your tone is humble, apologetic, but not groveling.

For a moment, he does nothing but stare. His expression is unreadable, his sharp eyes watching your every move. Just as you’re starting to feel the tension in the air thicken, he moves. He bends down—not fully, just enough to pick up a stray document near his polished shoe.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you reply, your fingers brushing his briefly as you take the paper. Your heart beats a little faster, but you keep your composure.

You stand, clutching the files to your chest, and smile shyly. “I’m so sorry again. I wasn’t paying attention.”

For a moment, your eyes meet his, and you take your chance. Quietly, subtly, you chant the spell in your mind:

"With this gaze, let me linger in your thought. A presence remembered, a web unwrought. See me, recall me, let me stay. In your mind, come what may."

There’s no way to know if it works—not yet. Flint straightens his tie and gives you a curt nod before walking away, his assistant close behind. You sigh softly, relieved the interaction is over, and start to collect the rest of your scattered papers.

But then, just as you’re stacking the last of the documents, you feel it. A faint prickle at the back of your neck. You glance up and catch Flint looking over his shoulder at you before disappearing down the corridor.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. It’s not confirmation, but it’s a start.

Hyunjin leans back in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. The leather creaks beneath him as he shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position in his cramped car. He’s been parked across from Flint’s office building for hours, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

Suspension has its perks, he tells himself, though the bitterness lingers in the back of his mind. No endless meetings, no rushed deadlines. Just this: a stakeout that feels like a low-budget spy movie. His career might be teetering on the edge of collapse, but at least he has time to figure out what Flint’s up to.

Finally, just as dusk begins to settle over the city, Flint emerges from the building. Hyunjin straightens in his seat, his heart giving a small jolt of anticipation. Flint strides confidently to his car, his ever-present assistant trailing close behind. Hyunjin starts his engine, keeping a safe distance as he tails them through the city streets.

After a short drive, they pull into the parking lot of a high-end restaurant. Hyunjin follows, finding a discreet spot to park before slipping inside. He tugs his cap lower over his face and scans the dining area, his eyes locking on Flint almost immediately.

To his surprise, Flint isn’t dining alone. Seated across from him is a woman Hyunjin recognizes instantly—Brownwyn, the secretary to the head of the legal team. Flint’s body language is relaxed, his attention fully on her. Brownwyn leans in slightly, a coy smile playing on her lips as she twirls the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.

Hyunjin’s brow furrows. This doesn’t look like a business dinner.

Sliding into a corner booth with a clear view of their table, Hyunjin orders a coffee he doesn’t intend to drink and settles in for the long haul. The restaurant buzzes with quiet conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery, but Hyunjin’s focus never wavers.

He watches as they share a meal, the interaction between them confirming his suspicions. Flint laughs at something Brownwyn says, leaning closer as the evening progresses. There’s an intimacy in their exchange that has nothing to do with work.

When they finally leave, Hyunjin follows them outside, keeping his distance as they climb into Flint’s car. He trails them through the city once more, his pulse quickening when they pull into the parking lot of a nearby hotel.

Hyunjin parks and enters the lobby just in time to see Flint and Brownwyn at the reception desk. He watches from the shadows as they’re handed a keycard and head toward the elevators, Flint’s hand resting casually on the small of Brownwyn’s back.

That’s all he needs to see. Hyunjin lets out a low breath and turns back toward the exit. He doesn’t need to guess what’s going to happen next, and honestly, he doesn’t want to. What matters is that he now has something tangible to work with—a secret Flint wouldn’t want getting out.

Slipping into his car, Hyunjin pulls out his phone and jots down a few notes. His night hasn’t been wasted after all.

Hyunjin stands outside your door, the cool evening air brushing against his skin. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates, then does it anyway. It’s late, but this couldn’t wait.

When you open the door, he’s taken aback. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about you is… different. There’s a subtle glow to your skin, a softness to your features that wasn’t there before. He shakes the thought away as you invite him in, your voice as composed as ever.

Once inside, Hyunjin gets straight to the point. "I followed Flint today," he says, his tone clipped.

He recounts everything—the restaurant, the intimate dinner with Brownwyn, the trip to the hotel. “I think we should spread it around the office,” he concludes. “If people know about his fling with Brownwyn, it could ruin his reputation.”

But you shake your head, crossing your arms. “That’s not enough to bring him down, Hyunjin.”

Frustration bubbles in his chest. “Not enough?” he snaps. “I’m suspended. Do you understand what that means? I might not even have a job to go back to!”

You meet his glare with a steady gaze. “Once Flint is taken down, it’ll be easier for you to get your job back,” you say firmly. Your confidence in your plan only makes him angrier, but he knows you’re right. Flint is the key.

You shift the topic. “Did you get the hair?”

Hyunjin sighs and pulls a crumpled tissue from his pocket, holding it up like it’s a prize. “Yeah. I snuck into the coat room at the restaurant and found a strand on his coat.” He places the tissue on the table, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment despite himself.

Your lips curl into a small smile. “Good. That’s one step closer.”

He watches as you carefully pick up the tissue, your fingers grazing the edge of it with reverence, as if it holds the answer to everything. Then a thought strikes him.

“What about your plan to seduce him?” he asks. “You really think that’s going to work?”

You glance up at him, and for a moment, there’s something in your eyes—something sharp and knowing. “I’ve already started,” you say simply.

Hyunjin scoffs, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t know if you’re the type he’d go for,” he mutters, though the words sound more skeptical than cruel.

“I’ve done it before,” you reply confidently, your voice carrying a weight that makes him uneasy.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you, trying to read between the lines. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

Your gaze flicks to him, lingering for a second too long. There’s something in your expression—a glint of mischief, but also a flicker of sadness. It’s unsettling, like you’re holding onto something he can’t see.

“It means,” you say slowly, “I know how to get what I want.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. For a moment, Hyunjin feels like you’re not talking about Flint at all.

The night feels heavy, the air thick with unspoken urgency as you prepare for the ritual. Hyunjin’s growing anxiety about his suspended career gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you’re running out of time. If Flint doesn’t fall into your trap soon, the plan will crumble, and with it, any chance of saving Hyunjin's job—and perhaps even yourself.

You glance at the small tissue placed carefully beside the almanac. Inside it lies Flint’s hair, the most critical component of the spell. Hyunjin came through, and now, there’s no time to waste.

With steady hands, you gather the rest of the ingredients: rose petals for passion, honey for sweetness, and a drop of your own blood for power and intent. Each item is laid out before you in a precise circle, their arrangement forming the spell’s foundation.

You light the candles one by one, murmuring the incantation under your breath as each flame flickers to life. The room grows warmer, the air thick with the scent of herbs and wax.

Sitting cross-legged before the altar, you pick up the strands of Flint’s hair, weaving them carefully into the rose petals. Closing your eyes, you focus on the image of him—his sharp gaze, his commanding presence. You imagine him looking at you, drawn to you with an uncontrollable desire.

You begin the chant, your voice steady and low at first, then rising in intensity. Each word carries your intent, your need, your determination. The energy in the room shifts, buzzing like static electricity.

"By fire’s light and heart’s desire. Let him be drawn, his soul inspired. Through thought and dream, he seeks for me. Bound by will, so let it be."

As you chant, you feel the power building within you, a heady sensation that sends chills down your spine. Your hands move instinctively, blending the ingredients with precision, each motion an extension of your will.

When the final words of the spell leave your lips, you take a deep breath and release it slowly, feeling the magic settle over you like an invisible veil. You open your eyes and look at the small bundle of ingredients now bound together with red thread. It hums with energy, glowing faintly under the candlelight.

You place the bundle into a small pouch, clutching it tightly in your hands. The ritual is complete, but the true challenge lies ahead—facing Flint and testing the spell’s power.

The next morning, you wake up earlier than usual, carefully selecting your outfit and ensuring every detail of your appearance is flawless. If the spell worked, today will be the day Flint notices you, truly notices you.

As you step into the office, a surge of determination courses through you. When you knock on Flint’s office door, your pulse quickens. His voice calls for you to enter, and you step inside, flashing your most charming smile. He barely glances up from his paperwork, his usual cold demeanor intact.

“Sir,” you begin, stepping closer to his desk. “I heard you have a meeting with a client this afternoon. I’d like to take care of the presentation for you.”

His pen pauses mid-stroke, and he looks up at you. For a moment, there’s nothing in his expression—just the same sharp, calculating stare you’ve come to expect. But you press on, your voice warm and persuasive.

“I know it’s last-minute, but I’ve reviewed the files. I’m confident I can handle it, and it’ll give you more time to focus on… other matters.” You let your words linger, tilting your head slightly as if you’re offering more than just a simple favor.

He studies you in silence, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. Finally, he exhales through his nose and leans back in his chair.

“Fine,” he relents. “But don’t mess it up. The meeting’s at two. Be ready.”

You nod, trying not to let the victorious smile show too much. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

By the time two o’clock rolls around, you’re impeccably prepared. Standing in the elevator beside Flint, you notice his usual air of authority, but there’s something else—something quieter, like curiosity.

As the elevator hums to life, you turn to him with a polite smile. “May I?” you ask, gesturing to his tie, which is slightly askew.

He glances at you, then nods. “Go ahead.”

You step closer, your fingers lightly brushing against the fabric as you adjust the knot. His eyes remain fixed on you, his expression unreadable but intent. You can feel his assistant’s glare burning into you from behind, but you ignore it, focusing on Flint.

“There,” you say softly, straightening the tie and stepping back. “Perfect.”

His gaze lingers on you a moment longer, and you meet it with a confident smile before turning away as the elevator doors open.

In the meeting room, you deliver the presentation with practiced ease, your voice steady and your points concise. You notice, however, that Flint’s eyes remain locked on you the entire time. It’s not the typical critical gaze he gives his employees—it’s something heavier, something that makes your skin prickle with awareness.

You meet his eyes briefly during the presentation, letting a small smile play on your lips before returning to your slides. Each time you glance his way, he’s watching, his expression unreadable but intense.

When the meeting concludes, you gather your papers, feeling a rush of pride and anticipation. As everyone files out, you linger slightly, hoping Flint will say something—anything—to confirm the spell is working.

But he doesn’t. He simply nods at you before walking away, his assistant trailing after him.

You stand there for a moment, the air of victory you’d felt earlier evaporating. Did it work? you wonder, doubt creeping into your mind.

Maybe the spell wasn’t strong enough. Maybe Flint’s will is stronger than you anticipated. Or maybe… just maybe… it’s working more subtly than you realized.

Hyunjin paces in front of your door, his frustration bubbling under the surface. He hasn’t felt this restless in a long time—his career hanging by a thread, his life spiraling out of control, and no certainty in sight. He clenches his fists, trying to push back the overwhelming sense of failure creeping in.

Every sound in the hallway makes him turn his head, and when the elevator dings, he freezes. You step out, a look of surprise flashing across your face when you see him.

“Hyunjin?” you ask, your voice soft yet cautious.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, the floodgates open. “I’m losing my mind here. Do you know how hard it is for me to just sit and wait? To follow your plan when I don’t even know if it’s working?” His voice rises slightly, his frustration bleeding through. “My career is on the line, my life is on the line, and all I’m doing is running around in circles for this!”

You stand there, calm and collected, letting him vent without interrupting. When he finally pauses to take a breath, you step closer, your tone steady but firm.

“It is working, Hyunjin. You just have to trust me.”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Trust you? I don’t even know if—”

“Have you eaten?” you cut him off, your eyes narrowing slightly as you take in his pale complexion.

“What?” he asks, caught off guard.

“You look like you haven’t eaten all day. Come in, I’ll make you something,” you say, unlocking your door and holding it open for him.

Hyunjin hesitates, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach betrays him. He follows you inside, sinking into a chair at your kitchen table while you move around with ease, preparing a simple meal.

The smell of food fills the small space, and despite himself, Hyunjin feels his tension begin to ease. When you set the plate in front of him, he doesn’t even bother to argue, picking up his fork and digging in.

As he eats, a strange sensation washes over him. He glances around the room, the soft lighting, the faint scent of whatever incense you burned earlier, and the way you’re moving about the kitchen—it all feels familiar.

Too familiar.

He pauses mid-bite, the fork hovering in the air as a wave of déjà vu hits him like a freight train. He’s been here before. He’s sat at this table before, eating a meal you prepared, sharing this moment.

But that’s impossible.

“Have we…” he begins, but the words catch in his throat. He shakes his head, trying to push the strange feeling aside.

Before he can finish his thought, your phone buzzes on the counter. You glance at the screen, and your demeanor shifts instantly. You grab the phone, answering it with a tone that’s light and professional.

“Hello?” you say, your back to him as you pace slightly.

Hyunjin can’t help but strain to hear the conversation, catching snippets of your words. “Yes… tomorrow night… drinks? Of course… I’ll be there.”

When you hang up, you turn back to him with a spark of triumph in your eyes. “That was Flint.”

Hyunjin sits up straighter, his curiosity piqued.

“He just invited me for drinks tomorrow night,” you casually say as you pick up your fork to continue eating.

In that moment, Hyunjin instantly regrets that he didn't trust you in the first place.

The almanac doesn’t leave room for second-guessing, so you stick to its advice, dressing in the suggested color—a deep, alluring shade that accentuates your figure. You take extra care with your appearance tonight, ensuring every detail is perfect. Flint has to notice you; he has to want you.

The pub Flint mentioned in his call is nothing extravagant, but its cozy, vintage atmosphere is charming in its own way. You arrive purposefully late, just enough to seem like you’re not desperate for his attention.

As you step inside, the warm lighting and low hum of conversation wrap around you. You spot Flint almost immediately, seated in a booth near the back. His ever-present assistant slash bodyguard is by his side, like a shadow that never strays too far.

But tonight, Flint looks different—dressed casually, the stiffness of his usual office attire replaced with a relaxed charm. He seems more his age, and it strikes you that he’s only three years older than you.

When he sees you, a smile spreads across his face, and as you approach, his eyes trail over you. The attention is unmistakable, almost palpable.

“You look stunning,” he says, his voice smoother than you’ve ever heard it.

“Thank you,” you reply with a small smile, tilting your head just enough to let your earrings catch the light.

He leads you to the booth, and to your relief, he gestures for his assistant to leave. As the assistant fades into the background, you feel a slight wave of freedom—it’s just you and Flint now.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, motioning for you to sit.

“Of course,” you reply, sliding into the seat across from him.

He leans back slightly, studying you with an intensity that feels almost disarming. “I wanted to thank you for the presentation yesterday. You did a great job.”

You smile, dipping your head modestly. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I have to admit,” he continues, a playful edge in his tone, “I didn’t think you had it in you. You’ve surprised me.”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh? And how exactly did you see me before?”

His smile turns flirtatious, his eyes gleaming. “I thought you were uptight, always buried in your work. I didn’t know there was this… fun side to you.”

You feign a pout. “That’s disappointing. I’m sad you never paid enough attention to me to notice before.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich. The conversation flows easily, growing more intimate with each passing minute. His charm is undeniable, but you keep reminding yourself this isn’t about you; it’s about the plan.

And then, he leans in.

His face is close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, his gaze locked onto yours. Your heart races, not with excitement but with the weight of the moment. You promised yourself you’d do anything to make this work, anything to bring Flint to his knees.

But as his lips move closer, something in you snaps.

At the very last second, you dodge, turning your head slightly so his kiss lands awkwardly near your cheek. The air shifts instantly.

When you look back at him, the expression on his face tells you everything. The interest, the desire—it vanishes like a flame snuffed out.

Flint pulls back, his demeanor cool and detached. “I just remembered,” he says, his tone suddenly businesslike, “I have something I need to take care of.”

You nod, even though you know the truth. His excuse is nothing more than a polite dismissal.

As he stands and adjusts his jacket, you force a smile, pretending you don’t see the disappointment in his eyes—or feel the failure burning in your chest.

When he leaves the pub, you remain seated, staring down at the untouched drink in front of you. Your plan has failed, and the weight of that realization sits heavy in the pit of your stomach.

Hyunjin hesitates as he steps off the elevator and walks toward your door. He isn’t sure if you’re back yet, but the uncertainty doesn’t stop him. He’s been restless since earlier tonight, an uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

When the door opens, his breath catches for a moment. You’re standing there in a bathrobe, your hair damp and clinging to your neck. Your expression is unreadable, but it’s enough to tell him that things didn’t go as planned.

You don’t say a word, just push the door open wider, allowing him to step inside. Hyunjin walks in slowly, his eyes flickering to you as you close the door behind him.

The silence feels heavy, but he doesn’t press you. He moves to the dining table and takes a seat, his gaze following you as you head to the kitchen. The way you saunter to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water is oddly mesmerizing. There’s something different about you tonight—no sharp quips, no smug assurance.

Finally, he breaks the quiet. “How did it go?”

You pause mid-sip, the rim of the glass pressed against your lips. Lowering it slowly, you let out a bitter laugh and lean against the counter. “It went fine... until it didn’t.”

Hyunjin frowns. “What do you mean?”

You recount everything—the pub, the conversation, how everything seemed to be going perfectly until you dodged Flint’s kiss. Your voice remains steady, but Hyunjin can hear the frustration laced in your words, the self-reproach hiding beneath them.

He exhales, leaning back in his chair. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do all that. Really.”

But you shake your head, your eyes narrowing. “No, it’s not okay. I wasn’t enough. I should have done my part right. If I had just—”

“You don’t have to push yourself this far,” Hyunjin interrupts gently, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve already done so much.”

You glare at him, the fire in your gaze a stark contrast to the exhaustion etched into your features. “You don’t get it,” you snap, but your tone lacks venom. It’s frustration—at yourself more than anything.

Hyunjin stares at you, trying to find the right words. But as he watches you stand there, gripping the edge of the counter as if trying to hold yourself together, something shifts in him.

This whole time, he’s been so focused on his own frustrations, his own doubts about the plan, that he never stopped to consider how much you’ve been sacrificing, how much you’ve been giving to make this work.

For the first time, Hyunjin sees the weight you’re carrying—and how deeply determined you are to see this plan through.

“I see it now,” he says softly, almost to himself.

You glance at him, your expression wary. “See what?”

He shakes his head, offering you a faint smile instead of answering. For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, the silence heavy with unspoken words. Then you sigh, push off the counter, and make your way to the table.

“I’m not giving up,” you say, sitting across from him. There’s a quiet determination in your voice, one that Hyunjin can’t help but admire.

“I know,” he replies, his voice steady. “And I’ll make sure we see this through.”

The plan you created with Hyunjin echoes in your mind as you park your car in the office lot, waiting for most people to leave. You glance at Flint’s car still parked a few spaces away, and your heart races. This is your moment to get his interest back.

Taking a deep breath, you pop the front hood of your car and adopt a distressed expression. You lean over the engine, pretending to inspect it, though you have no idea what you’re looking for. Pulling out your phone, you stage a fake call for help, your voice carrying just enough to be heard if someone were near.

Time stretches painfully slow until you finally spot Flint walking out of the building with his ever-present assistant trailing behind. Your pulse quickens, but you keep your expression pitiful, glancing down at the engine in feigned confusion.

Flint walks straight toward his car without sparing you a glance, his assistant opening the car door for him. Your chest tightens as doubt creeps in—this might not work.

Swallowing your hesitation, you take the next step. You approach his assistant with timid steps, clutching your hands together nervously.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice soft but loud enough to stop him. “Can you help me check what's wrong with my car? Please?”

The assistant glances at Flint, who gives him a slight nod. Without hesitation, the assistant walks over to your car and leans over to inspect the engine.

“Looks like your car’s out of commission,” he declares after a quick glance. “You’ll need a mechanic.”

You let your shoulders sag in an exaggerated display of disappointment, biting your lip as you feign helplessness. Flint watches from the comfort of his car, his expression unreadable. It isn’t until his assistant walks back and murmurs something to him that he rolls down the window slightly.

“It’s late,” Flint says, his tone casual but laced with authority. “I’ll have my driver drop you off. Get in.”

You flash him a grateful smile, walking to the car and slipping into the seat next to him. The door shuts with a solid thud, and you feel his presence keenly, even in the spacious interior.

“Thank you,” you murmur, adjusting your posture to seem both grateful and charming.

As the car begins to move, you glance at him shyly. “I really appreciate this. And, by the way, I had fun the other night. It’s a shame it ended so soon.”

Flint turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if gauging your sincerity. “Is that so?”

You nod, letting a coy smile grace your lips. “I guess I was just nervous. You caught me off guard.”

The ride feels both endless and fleeting. By the time the car pulls up in front of your apartment building, you steel yourself for the final step. The driver opens your door, but you make no move to leave just yet.

Turning to Flint, you lean in closer, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes widen slightly, his body going rigid as you press your lips to his in a soft but deliberate kiss.

When you pull away, his expression is a mix of surprise and intrigue. You smile at him, your voice sultry. “I should’ve done that sooner.”

Before stepping out, you cast him one last glance, your lips curling into a playful smile. “See you tomorrow at the office, Mr. Hargrave.”

With that, you step out of the car, feeling his gaze linger on you as you walk toward your building.

The plan is officially back on track when you catch the sight of Flint’s sleek car parked right out front of your apartment building the next morning. Your pulse quickens with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation.

As the car door opens, Flint steps out, looking as polished and composed as always. His lips curve into a smile, and for a moment, you revel in the small victory. The spell is working.

“Good morning,” he greets warmly, gesturing toward the open car door. “Shall we?”

Feigning surprise, you raise an eyebrow and offer him a playful smile. “What’s this? You went out of your way to pick me up?”

He chuckles softly, brushing it off. “Your car broke down, didn’t it? I thought it’d be a shame if you were late to work because of that.”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him with a curious gaze. He looks so nonchalant, but you know better. Beneath his composed exterior, the spell is undoubtedly weaving its magic.

“Well,” you say, stepping closer to him, “thank you for the thoughtful gesture.”

Your smile deepens as you slip into the car, catching the faint glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes before he closes the door behind you.

As the car glides through the streets toward the office, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence. The plan is back in motion, and Flint is right where you want him—under your spell.

Hyunjin leans against the wall of the dimly lit hallway, arms crossed tightly as he watches Flint’s car pull up outside your building.

It’s become a routine he hates—Flint stepping out, opening the car door for you like some picture-perfect gentleman, and the two of you exchanging pleasantries that seem far too intimate.

Tonight is no different. Hyunjin’s jaw tightens as Flint helps you out of the car, his hand lingering on your arm longer than it should. You and him exchange a few words, Flint’s deep voice carrying softly in the still evening air.

Then, as if to push Hyunjin further into frustration, Flint tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips before stepping back.

Hyunjin’s fists clench at his sides. If he didn’t know this was all part of a carefully crafted plan, he might have believed the two of you were genuinely in love. But the knot in his chest isn’t just frustration—it’s jealousy. Why?

The question eats at him as he waits for Flint’s car to drive away. When it finally disappears down the street, Hyunjin pushes himself off the wall and heads up to your apartment. He knocks sharply, his impatience barely contained.

You open the door almost immediately, as though you were expecting him. Your expression is calm, maybe even a little amused.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks, his eyes scanning your face for any sign that something is wrong. “Did Flint… do anything to you?”

Your lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “I’m fine,” you say coyly, stepping aside to let him in. “You don’t need to worry so much.”

Hyunjin follows you into the living room, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “We should speed this up,” he says, his voice sharp with urgency. “Let’s execute the plan quickly so you don’t have to keep being around him.”

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t enjoy his company, either,” you say with a shrug. “But the best time for the ritual is Friday. Until then, I have to keep the act going.”

Hyunjin stares at the floor, jaw tight. “I just don’t like seeing you with him,” he admits, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “He’s… he’s dangerous. I’m afraid he’s going to do something to you.”

You step closer, your expression softening. “Hyunjin, I can handle Flint,” you say gently, your voice steady.

But your reassurance doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest. Hyunjin looks up to meet your gaze, his thoughts a chaotic swirl. Is it really Flint’s cruelty that bothers him, or is it something else entirely?

In the office, you step into Flint’s room, proposal folder in hand. He looks up from his desk as you enter, offering a faint smile as you approach. You present your proposal with a professional demeanor, walking him through every point with precision. Once you’re done, you pause, your hands resting lightly on the edge of his desk.

“Mr. Hargrave,” you say, your tone shifting slightly, “may I be unprofessional for just a moment?”

Flint raises an eyebrow but leans back in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Go ahead,” he says with a small smile.

You smile back, your gaze steady. “You once promised me dinner,” you begin, tilting your head slightly. “I was wondering… when you plan on making good on that promise.”

Flint chuckles, his amusement deepening. “If you’d like,” he says smoothly, “we can have that dinner tonight.”

Feigning a thoughtful expression, you shake your head. “I appreciate the offer, but I have a better idea,” you say, leaning in just slightly. “How about I cook you dinner? At my place.”

Flint’s eyebrows lift, curiosity sparking in his expression. “Your place?” he repeats, clearly intrigued.

You nod, adding with a sly smile, “A dinner at my place is far more intimate. Besides…” You glance over your shoulder, as if expecting to see his ever-present assistant lurking nearby. “I hate seeing your assistant hovering around all the time.”

Flint lets out a low laugh, nodding his agreement. “Fair enough,” he says. “Dinner at your place it is.”

Satisfied, you excuse yourself, turning to leave. But before you can take more than a step, Flint stands and closes the distance between you.

“Since we’re still being ‘unprofessional,’” he says, his voice low, before his hands find your waist and he pulls you closer. His lips meet yours in a firm, calculated kiss, one that you have no choice but to return.

As you kiss him, your eyes flick to the mirror on the wall. Your reflection stares back at you, your lips curved in a small, knowing smile. Mischief glints in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the game you’re playing and the plan that’s slowly coming together.

Hyunjin knocks on your door, shifting uncomfortably as he waits. When you open it, his breath hitches slightly. You’re dressed in a stunning silk dress, its fabric clinging perfectly to your frame, and your hair is styled in a neat bun that leaves your neck and shoulders elegantly bare.

For a moment, he forgets why he’s here, caught off guard by how effortlessly beautiful you look.

“Come in,” you say with a faint smile, stepping aside to let him in.

He follows you inside, watching as you glide toward the kitchen, your heels clicking softly on the floor. The table is already set, and Hyunjin can see the attention to detail you’ve put into everything.

“Did you get it?” you ask, your tone calm but firm as you begin arranging utensils.

Hyunjin quickly retrieves a small bottle from his pocket—the sleeping pills you asked for—and hands it to you. You take it without hesitation and tuck it away in one of the kitchen drawers.

“Anything else you need?” Hyunjin offers, his voice tinged with concern.

You glance at him over your shoulder and shake your head. “I’ve got it under control. You should go now, before Flint gets here.”

Hyunjin hesitates, standing awkwardly by the counter. “Are you sure? I can stay a little longer—”

You cut him off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Just be ready for my call when it’s time.”

He nods, but his feet remain rooted to the floor. He can’t shake the unease bubbling in his chest. Part of him worries about what Flint might try tonight, and another part—one he doesn’t want to acknowledge—resents the entire situation.

Finally, he sighs and heads for the door, turning back one last time. “Be careful,” he murmurs, his voice quieter than he intended.

You meet his gaze, your expression steady. “I will.”

Reluctantly, Hyunjin leaves, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step away from your apartment.

After dinner, Flint takes a leisurely stroll around your small apartment, his curious eyes wandering over the space. You remain in the kitchen, slicing fruit and arranging cheese to go with the wine. Thankfully, you had the foresight to stow away your witchcraft tools earlier, hiding them in the closet where they’re safely out of sight.

“It's a small apartment so there's not much to see,” you tell him with a small smile.

“I like it. It's cozy.” Flint responds from across the room.

As you glance over your shoulder, making sure Flint’s attention is elsewhere, you slip two sleeping pills into his glass of wine. Your heart races slightly as the pills dissolve into the deep red liquid, but you maintain your composure. With everything ready, you carry the tray to the living room and place it on the table.

Flint returns to the sofa, smiling as he settles beside you. “You’ve really gone all out,” he says, raising his glass in a toast.

You raise your glass as well, playfully saying. “Anything to impress you.”

You clink glasses with him, forcing a smile, and take a small sip of your own wine while keeping a careful eye on him. As he drinks, you ensure his glass never stays full for long, subtly encouraging him to refill it.

After a while, Flint pulls you closer, draping an arm around you as he begins kissing your neck. You suppress the instinct to recoil and instead lean into his embrace, pretending to enjoy the intimacy. You kiss him back, but your mind is elsewhere, silently urging the sleeping pills to take effect.

When his hands begin to wander, you gently push away, offering an apologetic smile. “I need to use the bathroom,” you say softly, slipping out of his grasp.

He nods, clearly disappointed so you place a quick peck on his lips as consolation. Closing the bathroom door behind you, you take a deep breath, counting the seconds as you hope the pills are working.

After a few minutes, you return to find Flint still sitting on the sofa, though his eyelids are heavy, and his movements sluggish. He looks up at you with a faint smile, oblivious to what’s happening.

“You look tired,” you say, sitting beside him and offering your arms. “Here, rest for a bit.”

Flint leans into you, his head resting against your chest as his breathing grows slow and steady. A moment later, he’s fully asleep.

Once you’re certain he’s out cold, you carefully ease him off you and grab your phone. Dialing Hyunjin’s number, you speak in a hushed tone. “It’s time.”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother knocking; you’re already there, opening the door as if you’ve been waiting for him. The moment he steps inside, his eyes land on Flint, sprawled out on the sofa and deeply asleep thanks to the potent sleeping pills Hyunjin sourced from his pharmacist friend. He notices you tidying up the remnants of your staged evening, clearing the glasses and dishes from the coffee table.

“What do you need me to do?” Hyunjin asks without preamble, his voice low.

You motion toward the furniture. “Help me move everything.”

Together, the two of you shift the furniture to the edges of the room. Once the space is cleared, you roll up the carpet, revealing a carefully drawn rune beneath it, etched onto the floor in a pattern that Hyunjin can only describe as intricate and otherworldly.

“Lift him,” you say, gesturing to Flint.

Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate, though he grits his teeth as he hauls Flint’s limp body off the couch and carries him to the center of the rune. Once Flint is positioned as instructed, you disappear into the bedroom to retrieve more items.

Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on the rune as he waits, a sense of unease creeping into his chest. When you return, you’re carrying an array of tools and objects he can’t even begin to identify. Candles, vials, a small chalice, and—most unsettling—a dagger.

“Set the candles around the circle and light them,” you instruct, kneeling on the floor as you arrange your witchcraft materials.

Hyunjin obeys, carefully placing the candles at specific points around the rune and lighting them one by one. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the room, the atmosphere growing heavier with each passing second. He finishes and steps back, watching as you lay your tools in front of you and take a deep, steadying breath.

“Anything else?” he asks, though the tension in his voice is clear.

You glance up at him briefly. “Step back. I need to start.”

Hyunjin retreats to the edge of the room, leaning against the wall as he watches you. He’s never been one to believe in witchcraft or rituals, but something about the way you move, the focus in your eyes, makes him hesitate.

You begin chanting, your voice low and rhythmic, as you add ingredients one by one to the chalice. Hyunjin watches as you pour liquids, crush herbs, and sprinkle powders, each action deliberate and precise. Then, you take the dagger, holding it with a calm determination that makes his stomach churn.

Without hesitation, you press the blade against your palm, cutting deep enough for blood to bead and then flow freely. You ball your hand into a fist, letting the blood drip steadily into the chalice. Hyunjin stiffens, torn between stepping in and letting you continue.

As the blood mingles with the other ingredients, you set the chalice on the floor and light a small flame beneath it. The mixture begins to burn, smoke curling upward as you chant louder, your voice rising with each repetition.

Hyunjin’s unease deepens as the room seems to shift around him. The air grows thick, pressing against his skin, and the flickering candlelight feels almost alive. He tries to convince himself it’s just his imagination, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is happening.

Hyunjin watches in tense silence as you place the chalice at the heart of the rune, the contents still smoldering. You close your eyes, steadying your breathing as you stretch your arms outward, the dagger still held tightly in one hand. Then, in a language that sounds ancient and otherworldly, you begin the incantation:

"To the peace of death, I call you forth. Let your life fuel my flame. Through natural fate, this path unfolds. From blood and soul, my magic returns to me."

Your voice resonates, starting low but growing with intensity. Each word seems to ripple through the room, vibrating in Hyunjin’s chest like an unearthly hum. The candles, though extinguished, seem to glow faintly, the runes on the floor pulsing with a strange energy.

You move to the chalice, gripping it tightly, and continue the spell, your voice now echoing as if the words are being spoken in tandem by someone—or something—else:

"From the shadows of this world, I draw the light. Flint Hargrave, I take your life. Nature shall not see this as betrayal. For your soul becomes my tool."

Hyunjin can’t look away as you pour the remaining contents of the chalice over the center of the rune, the liquid sizzling against the air as if it were molten. A deep rumble vibrates beneath his feet, subtle at first but growing stronger.

Then, gripping the dagger tightly, you press it against your palm once more, fresh blood dripping onto the circle as you chant the final, most powerful lines:

"My blood, your blood. I give life to reclaim my magic. Let my soul be eternal. And let your death appear as nature’s will."

The air explodes with energy as the rune flares to life, a bright, unnatural light illuminating the room. Flint’s body jerks as if an invisible force is gripping him. His chest rises once in a shallow breath before his entire body relaxes, utterly still.

Hyunjin shivers as the room goes deathly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of dying embers from the chalice. The energy in the air feels different now—charged and alive, yet cold and foreboding.

You rise slowly, wiping the blood from your hand onto a cloth as you look over your shoulder at Hyunjin. For a moment, he sees something in your eyes—a glint of power, or perhaps something darker.

“It’s done,” you announce.

Hyunjin stares at you, uncertain of what he just witnessed but knowing, without a doubt, that something far more significant than a simple ritual has taken place.

You and Hyunjin are moving the furniture back into place, the room slowly returning to normal. Hyunjin keeps glancing at your hand, his brows furrowed as his eyes linger on the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around it.

“Just a small cut,” you assure him, catching his concern. “I’ll handle it later.”

Hyunjin doesn’t look convinced but says nothing as you direct him to help move Flint to your bed. He pauses, clearly uncomfortable. “Why not just leave him on the sofa? He’s out cold. He won’t even notice.”

“It’s better if it looks like we slept together,” you reply, your tone even and practical. “It makes the story more believable.”

Hyunjin mutters something under his breath but follows your instructions, carefully lifting Flint’s limp form and carrying him to your bed. As he starts undoing Flint’s tie and unbuttoning his shirt, he glances up—and freezes.

Across the room, you're changing out of your dress, slipping into a silk nightgown that clings to your form. The dim light casts shadows that highlight every curve, and for a moment, Hyunjin finds himself staring at the bare expanse of your back. His throat tightens as unease washes over him.

He quickly looks away, focusing on pulling the blankets over Flint’s body.

“You okay over there?” you ask, your tone light but teasing as you tie the straps of your gown.

Hyunjin clears his throat, his voice coming out a bit strained. “Yeah, just... making sure everything looks convincing.”

Once Flint is settled, Hyunjin hesitates by the doorway, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

“Nothing left but to wait,” you say, brushing a hand over your hair as you settle into the chair by your vanity.

Hyunjin nods slowly, his jaw tightening. His eyes flicker to the cloth on your hand again, and his uneasiness spills into his words. “Just uh... take care of that cut, okay?”

“I will,” you reply softly, offering him a faint smile.

Reluctantly, Hyunjin turns to leave, his footsteps heavy as he makes his way out of your apartment. As the door closes behind him, a strange silence settles over the room, leaving you alone with Flint—and the heavy weight of what you’ve just done.

The sleeping pills must be far stronger than you anticipated because Flint sleeps through the entire morning. His phone vibrates on the nightstand for what feels like the hundredth time, the name "Assistant" flashing on the screen. You sigh, brushing your hair out of your face as you glance at the time.

Climbing onto the bed, you carefully settle yourself next to him, your movements deliberate and gentle. Leaning over, you softly shake his shoulder. "Flint," you say, your voice light and melodic. "Time to wake up."

He stirs, letting out a small groan before squinting up at you. His eyes struggle to focus, confusion flickering across his face.

You smile warmly, tilting your head. "Good morning, sleepyhead," you sweetly greet, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder. "Your phone’s been ringing non-stop. I think your assistant’s starting to worry you’ve dropped off the face of the earth. If you don’t pick up, they’ll probably assume you’re dead."

That earns a groggy chuckle from him as he sits up, rubbing his face. He grabs his phone and answers it briefly, mumbling reassurances before hanging up.

When his gaze finally returns to you, his brows knit together slightly. “What... happened?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.

You let out a light laugh, reaching out to straighten the rumpled sheets around him. “Oh, come on!” you tease, feigning a hint of hurt. “I can’t believe you don’t remember. We had such a good time last night.”

He blinks, his confusion shifting to realization as he looks down, noticing for the first time that he’s naked under the blanket. His eyes widen slightly, and a slow smirk creeps onto his lips.

You giggle, playfully running a hand through your hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you take your time piecing it together,” you say, slipping off the bed with a practiced grace.

“For now, how about breakfast?”

As you walk toward the kitchen, a quiet, satisfied smile graces your lips. Inside, you’re celebrating your triumph. Everything is moving perfectly according to plan.

Three days have passed, and Hyunjin finds himself pacing his apartment, his mind restless. The uncertainty gnaws at him, a constant hum of tension in the back of his thoughts. He’s not sure how long the spell takes to work—or if it’s even working at all.

His mind circles back to you, as it often does these days. He worries about you being stuck in this fabricated relationship with Flint if things don’t go as planned. Worse, he can’t shake the thought that you might have to keep playing along indefinitely, enduring Flint’s company far longer than you should.

Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s not just his own career hanging by a thread—it’s yours too. The weight of it all feels suffocating.

The sudden ringing of his phone snaps him out of his thoughts. Glancing at the screen, he sees the office number flashing and hesitates for a moment before answering.

“Yes?” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“We need you to come in tomorrow for further examination,” the voice on the other end informs him. “Please be on time.”

Hyunjin’s grip tightens around his phone. “I’ll be there,” he says, keeping his response curt before hanging up.

He stares at the phone in his hand, unsure of how to feel. Does this mean things are moving forward, or is it just another step in prolonging his uncertainty? He can’t tell if this is a good sign or a bad one. What he does know is that his future remains unclear—and yours feels equally bleak.

On the way to your apartment, as he waits for the traffic light to turn, Hyunjin catches sight of Flint’s car pulling up in front of your building. He sees you step out, Flint following to open the door for you. Flint leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips before returning to his car.

From where Hyunjin stands, he can’t see your expression. He can’t tell how much effort it’s taking you to keep up the charade. Hyunjin clenches his fists and forces himself to calm down as he crosses the street.

When you open the door for him, you’re as composed as ever. You step aside, letting him in like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But as he looks at you, something feels off. There’s no spark of confidence in your eyes, none of the determination you’d had when you first presented this plan.

“Do you think it’s working?” he asks cautiously.

You hesitate. Your gaze flickers to the floor, then back to him, and he feels the weight of your silence before you even speak.

“There’s a chance it’s not working,” you admit quietly. “I’ve… lost my magic.”

Hyunjin blinks, the words taking a moment to sink in. “What do you mean you’ve lost it?”

You press your lips together, avoiding his gaze. “I did something. Something that cost me my power.”

Hyunjin’s brows knit together, his unease mounting. “And you’re only telling me this now?” His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it.

You look at him, guilt etched into your features. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I—” You pause, then force the words out. “I cast a spell on you, Hyunjin.”

The room feels colder all of a sudden, and Hyunjin steps back, staring at you. “What?”

“I used my magic on you,” you say, voice trembling. “And I gave up my powers in exchange for being able to revoke it.”

Hyunjin stands there, frozen, trying to process what you’ve just told him. His mind flashes through your time together, questioning every moment, every interaction. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. The betrayal, the shock, the confusion—it’s all too much.

Finally, he looks at you again, his expression unreadable. “You… cast a spell on me?” His voice is quiet, strained.

You nod, guilt heavy in your eyes. "I didn’t know it would lead to this."

Hyunjin turns away, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t speak either, his mind spinning as he tries to come to terms with what you’ve just confessed.

When Hyunjin shows up at your door, his expression says everything before he even speaks. He steps inside, and you prepare yourself. After the initial pleasantries, he asks the question you knew was coming.

“You… cast a spell on me?”

The moment hangs heavy between you, and you realize there’s no way out of this. You have to tell him everything. So you do. You confess to casting a love spell on him, to manipulating his feelings. You explain how you sacrificed your magic to undo the damage, thinking it was the only way to make things right.

As you speak, you watch the light in his eyes dim, the distance between you growing with each word. You can feel him slipping away from you all over again, and it makes your heart ache in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

When you finish, silence fills the space between you. Hyunjin doesn’t say a word, his expression unreadable. You don’t know if he’s upset, angry, or simply in shock.

You force yourself to look at him, your voice trembling as you speak. “I’ll understand if you want nothing to do with me. I promise I’ll stay away from you.”

He doesn’t respond, his silence louder than any words he could have said. Finally, he turns toward the door, and you realize this might be the end. The final goodbye.

“Wait,” you say, your voice cracking.

Hyunjin pauses, his hand on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You rush to your bedroom, grabbing something from a small box tucked away in the corner. When you return, you hold out a talisman.

“I know you’re being called to the office tomorrow,” you say, your voice soft. “Please, take this.”

He takes it from you without a word, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment before he steps out of your apartment.

As the door clicks shut, you stare at the empty space where he stood, the sound of your whispered “Goodbye” barely audible even to yourself.

Hyunjin’s head feels like a chaotic storm, each thought crashing into the next, leaving him unable to focus. The talisman you gave him is tucked into his pocket, but he hasn’t thought much about it since leaving your apartment. Right now, none of it seems to matter. Not the examination, not his job, not even the mess he’s left behind with you.

As he sits in the cold, sterile interrogation room, he stares blankly at the table, his mind drifting. He’s been waiting here for nearly an hour now, and the oppressive silence only amplifies the noise in his head.

Maybe I should just resign, he thinks bitterly. Spare them the trouble. What’s the point of dragging this out?

He starts tapping his fingers on the table impatiently, muttering under his breath. “What’s taking so long? Are they trying to torture me or what?”

The door finally creaks open, and a staff member steps in. Hyunjin straightens up, expecting the examination to finally begin.

“Sorry for the delay,” the man says, his tone formal. “I'm afraid we need to reschedule the examination.”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Reschedule? What? Why?”

The man hesitates, looking uncomfortable. “News just broke out... CEO Flint has passed away.”

Hyunjin’s fingers abruptly stops tapping the table and he freezes on his seat. “What?”

“It’s all over the office,” the man continues. “Apparently, it was a sudden heart attack.”

Hyunjin’s mind blanks for a moment. Flint is dead. The words echo in his head, feeling surreal.

“A sudden heart attack,” he repeats slowly, almost as if testing how it sounds.

“Yes. I’m sure more information will come out soon, but for now, the office is in chaos.”

The man leaves the room, but Hyunjin barely notices. His hands rest on the table, fingers tightening into fists as the weight of the situation sinks in.

The spell worked.

His heart feels heavy, a mixture of relief, shock, and guilt flooding his system. Hyunjin isn’t sure what to feel. Flint is gone, and the dark cloud looming over his and your lives has lifted, but at what cost?

It’s been a week since the news about Flint’s sudden death, and Hyunjin’s been reinstated with a clean slate, or at least that’s how it seems. No conclusive evidence, no real suspicion, and here he is, back in his seat, his career still intact.

He should be relieved, he knows that. He should be celebrating that the spell worked, that Flint is gone, and he’s free from the twisted situation that had him tangled up in it all. But instead, there’s this hollow feeling gnawing at him, and it's impossible to ignore.

With a sigh, Hyunjin pulls the talisman from his pocket. The small object feels heavier in his hand now, its meaning no longer as simple as a mere piece of luck. This was supposed to be his victory—his triumph. The key to his freedom. And yet, all he feels is sadness.

His fingers trace over the edges of the charm, memories of the nights spent with you flooding back. The time he spent with you felt like an illusion now, a dream that’s shattered. He’s angry, of course, at the deceit. You cast a spell on him, used magic to manipulate him without his knowledge. He didn’t even have a chance to choose. Betrayed, he feels the sting of that truth, raw and cutting.

But underneath that anger is something else, something he can’t shake. A deep sense of loss. He can’t understand it. Why does he feel this way?

"I got what I wanted," he murmurs to himself, his voice tinged with bitterness. "So why does it feel like I’ve lost everything?"

The bustling noise of the office around him fades into the background as his thoughts consume him. He wants to hate you for what you did. He wants to walk away and leave everything behind. But he can’t.

Because no matter how hard he tries, a part of him still cares for you. And that part of him can’t stop wondering if he made a mistake when he walked out of your apartment that night.

You take a deep breath as you gather the remnants of Flint's presence in your apartment—the items he touched, the things tainted by his energy. One by one, you place them in a bag, careful not to let your emotions creep back in. It’s not just about removing his physical traces; it’s about banishing the negativity that still lingers, suffocating your space.

With the bag clutched tightly, you step outside to a safe spot and set it ablaze. The flames crackle and hiss, consuming every last fragment. You whisper under your breath, a spell to release the darkness.

"By light of stars and flame of sun. Cleanse this space; let harm be none. All shadows fade, all ill be gone. This is my will; let peace be won. So mote it be."

The fire dies down, leaving behind nothing but ash. You exhale deeply, feeling a small weight lift from your chest.

Back in your apartment, the air still feels heavy, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You draw yourself a bath, infusing the water with a few drops of essential oils—lavender for peace, eucalyptus for clarity. As the warm water embraces you, you feel a subtle shift in your energy.

Once submerged, you whisper another spell, letting your voice carry into the water:

"From root to crown, from heart to soul. Let purity and light take hold. All dark removed, all wounds made whole. By power divine, restore control. So mote it be."

The words resonate through you, calming your mind. You close your eyes and let the spell do its work, envisioning the negativity dissolving into the water. You imagine it swirling away, leaving you lighter, clearer.

When the bath is done, you step out feeling renewed, wrapping yourself in a soft towel. The final step is to cleanse the air around you. You light a white candle and carry it through each room, whispering the same purification spell for the space. As the soft glow illuminates the corners, you feel the lingering shadows retreat.

Finally, you sit in the center of your living room, lighting a bundle of sage. The smoke curls into the air, spiraling upwards, carrying away the last traces of darkness. You speak firmly:

"This space is mine; it is sacred and free. No harm may enter; no ill may be. Only light and love dwell here with me. So mote it be."

The silence that follows feels comforting, like an embrace. You smile faintly, knowing you’ve taken the first step to reclaim your life and your peace. But before you can fully settle, there’s a knock at the door.

Hyunjin.

You debate ignoring it, letting the past stay behind that door, but the longing within you wins. Wrapping yourself in your robe, you pad to the door and open it.

There he is, standing on your doorstep, a faint, hesitant smile playing on his lips. It’s not the expression you expected—no anger, no bitterness, just something softer, something unsure.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice quiet but steady.

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. You don’t trust yourself to speak, afraid of what might spill out if you try.

The air feels heavy as you stand in the doorway, watching Hyunjin step inside. His presence stirs up emotions you’ve been trying to suppress for days. His smile is soft, but there’s a nervous energy about him, as though he’s unsure of what he’s doing here.

“I didn’t see you at work,” he starts, his voice light, as if trying to mask the tension. “Thought I’d check in. You know, make sure you weren’t... taking days off as a grieving girlfriend for Flint.”

His attempt at humor makes your chest tighten, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. You cross your arms, standing stiffly as he slowly moves around your space, his eyes scanning the room like he’s committing every detail to memory.

When he finally stops, his gaze locks onto yours. His expression shifts, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper. “Why did you revoke the love spell?”

The question hits you like a wave. You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. Part of you wants to avoid it, to bury the truth even deeper, but you know he deserves to hear it.

You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. “Because I love you,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Too much to keep you like that.”

The confession spills out, leaving you vulnerable in a way you haven’t been before. Tears threaten to blur your vision, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to fall apart in front of him.

Hyunjin steps closer, his eyes searching yours. “You remember everything, don’t you? From when I was under the spell?”

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” he presses, his voice tinged with both frustration and hurt.

“I tried,” you choke out, tears now freely falling. “I tried so many times but you... you hate me too much.”

Your voice cracks, and you look away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. Every word feels like a dagger to your heart, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

Suddenly, Hyunjin closes the distance between you. His hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. The tenderness in his touch makes you crumble, and you can’t stop the sobs from escaping.

“You should’ve told me,” he whispers, his voice soft now, almost pained.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours. The kiss is gentle yet urgent, a mix of longing and regret. You melt into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he might vanish if you let go.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the ache in your chest subsides, replaced by the warmth of his embrace.

Tracing every curve of your body feels like a trip back to his favorite place. Hyunjin may not remember it but he knows, he's been here before and it brings out that sense of belonging. He uses his hands, his lips to retrace the steps and as he puts his body on top of you, his body fits yours like two pieces of puzzle.

“How can I forget such beautiful body?” He mutters with a gentle kiss on your navel.

He continues the kisses upward until his lips reunite with yours again and each kiss he plants is harder and longer than the previous one. One hand glides down your front and not stopping until his fingers meet your wet sex.

Intrigued by the delicate flesh, Hyunjin looks down as he pushes his slender fingers inside you, he watches as you take them and his eyes widen at how you clench around them. He gulps air before saying, “You know how to get me impatient.”

Slowly, he pulls his two fingers and not wasting time to shove them into his mouth, his luscious lips wrapped around his fingers as he sucks, hard.

“How can I forgot this sweet, sweet taste.” His voice is so low it's almost like a whisper.

His patience runs thin. He parts your legs wider and positions himself in between. While stroking his cock in his hand, Hyunjin’s intense eyes fixated on yours and the way he can see the want in your eyes... he's stroking his cock faster than before.

Hyunjin can’t waste another second just looking at your gushing cunt and let it tantalizing him the longer he looks at it. He holds the side of your thighs after placing his cock in your wetness, he begins rocking his hips back and forth, rubbing his length in between your slit and at the same time, smearing your essence all over it.

“Fucking goodness!” He breathlessly says with his deep, heavy voice, tinted with hurries.

Hyunjin glides his hands down to your hips and holds you still as he pushes his cock, his eyes fixated on watching his length disappearing into you little by little. He unconsciously holds his breathe watching you take it, the size, the girth, and the veins coiling around it.

The moment he's fully sheathed inside you, Hyunjin drops his head into the crook of your neck. With his mouth resting so close to your ear, you can hear his raw, low groans. After a moment of composing himself, Hyunjin hovers above you, a hand cupping your jaw.

“Tell me, mmh?” He hastily kisses your lips in between sentences. “Tell me how can I forgot this tightness, this... fucking good pussy?”

Hyunjin props his hands on each side of you as he begins moving his hips, slowly and deliberately, his eyes fluttering shut as if he can't comprehend the sensation of each his movement caused.

“Oh, fucking...” He can't even finish his sentence but pulls out of you immediately. He knows that if he's inside you for a second longer, he'll lost it.

He frowns at the detachment and makes up for it by kissing you, placing his lips on every inch of skin available to him that breathing becomes unnecessary to him. Hungry for more skin to kiss, he flips you over, one hand holding you down by the nape of the neck as his plush lips peppering your back with soft yet searing kisses.

“How are you so soft all over?” His voice filled with disbelief but he doesn’t necessarily needs an answer from you as he plants his mouth on the base of your spine.

He makes use of his other hand to fondle your ass cheeks and from there, it's making its way back to your cunt, fingers teasing around your entrance, making it wet as he's ready to penetrate again.

On his second attempt, Hyunjin has better self control, he takes a deep breathe once he's fully buried inside you and then slowly, he lays on top of you, his chest meeting your back, skin to skin.

Lying face down with your head on the pillow, he puts all of your hair to the side and then presses a gentle kiss on the column of your throat. With utmost carefulness, Hyunjin begins thrusting from behind you and the skin slapping sounds filling the room.

Putting his hand around your neck, he tilts your head to the back until your eyes meet his. “You feel so fucking good, do you know that?” A smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he says it.

You only nod as you innocently gaze into his eyes and lowly moaning to his thrusts, arousing him more than he expected. You drop your head to the side, leaning against his forearm as he intently watches your facial expressions ever changing as the pleasure mounting inside you.

“You're close, mmh, beautiful?” He's picking up the pace but he asks you so sweetly.

Your wide-eyed gaze lingers on him as you lick your lips and nod.

Hyunjin can’t help himself but kisses your open mouth as he feels you tightening around his cock and plants a lingering peck on your lips. “I'm not going to stop until you come around my cock.”

He takes your hand and laces it together as he closes the gap between your bodies, his hips not slowing down even for a moment, determined to give you your release.

“Hyunjin...” you softly whine.

It's hard to ignore how you tighten around him, how you're sucking him deeper into yours as you hit your climax. He holds on to his last shred of self control to not lose it there. He wants to make this lasts for as long as possible.

As you're dealing with the waves of pleasure lapping over you, Hyunjin places kisses on your neck and shoulders, eventually your lips as satisfed moans spilling out of your parted lips. He holds you close and as he maneuvers himself to lay back on the mattress.

Giving you a moment of rest, Hyunjin uses the time to cuddle you, wrapped his muscular arms around you and stays like that as you're relishing your orgasm.

You turn your head to the back to face him, demanding a kiss from him and he gives it without a doubt, pressing a kiss on your lips.

The sheet is a crumpled mess as you bodies slithering together, limbs all over each other, touching, squeezing, pressing... it doesn’t take long to get you hot all over again.

Hyunjin reluctantly lets go one of his hands busy fondling your breasts and lowering it to your core, rubbing your clit that engorges the more he stimulates it. If only his mouth was resting close to it, he'd suck on it. He uses his fingers instead, pinching it in between, earning a soft gasp from you.

“Hyunjin,” you softly call his name. “Put it back in.”

In response, Hyunjin hastily kisses your lips. “With pleasure.”

In the midst of him thrusting you from behind, you lift your leg and put it over his thigh, providing him more depth and allowing him to continue circling your clit to give you extra stimulation.

His lips keep lathering yours and he likes how your moans spilling into his mouth, hot and sultry, and at times, he doesn’t stop himself from playfully sucks on your tongue.

“Keep clenching around me like that and I'm going to... oh, cum a lot inside you,” he finishes his sentence with a haste kiss on your lips. “Is what where you want it, mmh? Inside?”

You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close for a kiss. “Inside. Yes.”

“Thank fuck!” He playfully curses against your lips. “Cause I don't think I'd be able to pull out right in time.”

With that being said, Hyunjin moves at such ease, trying to delay his high as long as possible and savoring every second of it, his arms tightening around you as he thrusts into you slowly yet with such intensity that makes your body squirms in reaction.

His head is buried deep in your neck as he incessantly moving to chase his high and when he finally comes undone, he holds you tightly.

With his head still clouded with overwhelming pleasure, you bring his hand that is resting between your legs to your mouth and he watches as you take each one of his fingers into your mouth, sucking it with your eyes closed. Once you're done with all the five fingers, you bring his hand down to your breast to fondle it together with him.

You turn your head to the side to capture his lips in yours and Hyunjin likes every bit of this moment. The intimacy, the tenderness of it all, you.

He slightly pulls away from the kiss to say. “I don't want to forget this.”

Lying beside you in the quiet stillness of your bedroom, Hyunjin feels a rare sense of peace. He pulls you closer, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. His gaze softens as it meets yours, and he notices how the faint glow of moonlight highlights the lingering sadness in your expression.

Without thinking, his hand reaches for yours, his thumb brushing over the tender scar on your palm. It’s a reminder of the ritual you performed, the night everything began to shift.

His voice is soft as he asks, “Does it still hurt?”

You shake your head, your lips curving into the smallest of smiles. But Hyunjin’s heart aches all the same. Slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred skin. The simple act feels more intimate than anything he’s done before, as though he’s sealing his own unspoken promise.

There’s something stirring in him—an ache, a yearning, a strange sense of déjà vu. It’s like his heart remembers moments his mind refuses to recall, fragments of the love spell that linger despite everything. As he holds you, Hyunjin begins to wonder if the spell merely amplified something that was already there.

His voice breaks the silence as he sees the tenderness in the way you gaze at him. “What are you thinking?”

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes searching his face, before answering quietly. “Do you still hate me?”

Hyunjin laughs softly, shaking his head and then presses a kiss on your lips.

“No,” he says, his voice warm and reassuring. “Not even close.”

Your mornings have become a ritual of their own. The day always begins earlier now, with Hyunjin beside you. The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, illuminating his peaceful expression as he lies next to you. It’s a moment you savor before the world demands the façade of professionalism you’ve both agreed to maintain.

Hyunjin stirs, pulling you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Just five more minutes,” he mumbles, his voice husky with sleep.

You smile, threading your fingers through his hair. “Only five,” you tease, knowing full well it’ll stretch longer.

Soon, what started as lazy cuddles turns into a heating moment of your bodies pressed so close together and a little later, he has you around him.

You're straddling him on the bed with both feet planted against the mattress as a leverage, allowing you to bounce on his cock. His hands resting on each side of your waist, angling your body and at the same time, guiding your movements.

Hyunjin’s mouth is full of your flesh, his tongue circling around your nipple before sucking it as hard as he could. His eyes are wide and dark with lust, looking up at you with his mouth gaping open.

“Keep going, baby.” He sweetly mutters with a haste kiss on your neck and jaw. “Fuck me good. Drain me.”

Instead of adding speed, you choose to keep the steady pace but you switch to roll your hips while intentionally clenching around him. You like watching him overwhelmed by pleasure, his mouth gaping open with raw groans spilling out of it.

When he finally cum around you, you hold his gaze and watch as pleasure filled his eyes. Hyunjin tightens his hold around you and draws you close as he releases his seed inside you. His lips begin to plant kisses on your skin, shoulder, chest, neck and then he traces down your jaw with his plush lips before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

“It's been more than five minutes, ” you playfully say and he looks so beautiful as you cradle his face in your hands that you can't help but kiss his red, full lips.

He shakes his head and wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Stay. Don't pull away yet.”

His hand glides up to the nape of your neck, allowing him to angle your head as he pleases as he leans in for a long, lingering kiss that takes your breath away. He smiles when he breaks the kiss and keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he jokingly says, “You didn’t put me under a spell again, right?”

You loop your arms around his neck and play with the tendrils of hair on the back of his head. “Even if I did, it's a spell to make you less clingy around me.”

Hyunjin lets out a low chuckle but it's enough to make his eyes form two crescent moons. “Are you sure it's not the other way around?”

“A hundred percent sure.” You place a long peck on his lips as he reciprocates with a longer one.

“We should do it.” Hyunjin says out of the blue.

You blink at him, confused. “Do what?”

“I saw it on your spellbook,” Hyunjin says, his gaze steady and unwavering. “The one that binds our souls together.”

Your reaction is immediate—your eyes widen in shock, and you shake your head. “No,” you say firmly. “You don’t have to do something like that. You don't have to prove anything.”

“It’s not about proving anything,” Hyunjin says, sitting up slightly so he can look at you more directly.

“It’s about not forgetting. I don’t want to lose this—or you—again. If there’s even a chance it could happen…” He trails off, his voice softening. “I want to remember. All of it.”

You sit up as well, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and concern. “Hyunjin, this isn’t something to take lightly. Our souls would be connected forever. You don’t want to do this.”

But Hyunjin has already made up his mind. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “I know what I want,” he says gently. “And it’s you. So if this is the way to keep you, then let’s do it.”

His resolve is unwavering, and though doubt flickers in your eyes, Hyunjin knows you’ll agree. You love him, and you’ve already sacrificed so much to be with him. Now, it’s his turn to choose you.

Reluctantly, you flip through your spellbook, finding the ritual you hadn’t dared to consider before. The process is simple, yet the weight of its meaning is anything but. You scan the instructions one last time and gather what you need: a spool of red thread and the candles from your altar.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of flickering candlelight dancing against the walls. You’ve drawn the rune onto the floor with meticulous care, the ancient symbol connecting you both to the magic you’re about to invoke. Sitting across from each other inside the rune, you watch Hyunjin’s face, searching for any sign of hesitation.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm.

“I’m sure,” he says, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“This is permanent,” you remind him one last time as you hold the spellbook in your hands. “Once our souls are bound, there’s no undoing it.”

Hyunjin meets your gaze, his expression calm but resolute. “I know,” he says.

You nod, swallowing the knot of nerves in your throat, and reach for his hands. They’re warm and steady as they clasp yours, his touch grounding you as you prepare for what’s to come.

With slow, deliberate movements, you begin to wrap the red thread around your joined hands, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as you secure the bond. The thread feels heavier than it should, its weight symbolic of the promise you’re making to each other.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, letting the words of the spell flow from your lips like a soft melody:

“Thread of fate, bond of soul. Tie us together, make us whole. Heart to heart, spirit to spirit. Forever bound, no end or limit.”

The candles around you flicker, their flames growing taller as the magic begins to take hold. The air feels charged, alive with energy, and you open your eyes to see Hyunjin watching you intently.

“Repeat after me,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Hyunjin nods, his voice strong and clear as he echoes your words, completing the incantation:

“Thread of fate, bond of soul. Tie us together, make us whole. Heart to heart, spirit to spirit. Forever bound, no end or limit.”

As the final words of the spell fall from his lips, you both feel it—the shift, the connection, the unexplainable pull that tells you the ritual has worked.

You look up at Hyunjin, your hands still bound by the red thread. His gaze is soft, almost reverent, and without thinking, the two of you lean toward each other. Your lips meet in a kiss that feels different from any you’ve shared before. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a vow, a seal, a promise etched into the very fabric of your beings.

When you finally pull back, the red thread glows faintly for a moment before fading into nothing, leaving only the warmth of Hyunjin’s touch and the knowledge that your souls are now—and forever—bound.

For better or for worse, you are his, and he is yours.

When the day finally begins, it’s with a shared rhythm. A warm shower where water cascades over tangled limbs, soft laughter echoing off the tiles. Breakfast at the table, the mundane act of eating transformed into something tender in the quiet intimacy you share.

Hyunjin always leaves first, heading home to change before work. You watch him go, knowing you’ll see him soon. True to habit, the two of you arrive at the office at almost the same time.

In the elevator, it’s a delicate dance. The veneer of professionalism must remain intact, yet the shared glances and sly smiles betray the connection between you. There’s a thrill in the secrecy, a spark that makes each stolen moment feel more precious.

As the elevator chimes at Hyunjin’s floor, he steps out, turning to flash you a smile just before the doors close. It’s small, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to you, it’s everything.

When the elevator resumes its ascent, you find yourself smiling too. But it’s not just the thought of Hyunjin that occupies your mind. As you glance at your hands, you feel it—the power surging beneath your skin, stronger than ever.

The binding ritual didn’t just intertwine your soul with Hyunjin’s. It did something more. It restored what you thought you had lost, your magic power returning with a force you hadn’t expected. The price? Flint’s soul.

You tell yourself it wasn’t intentional, that his death appearing so natural was merely an unforeseen consequence. Yet deep down, you know the truth.

The sacrifice wasn’t accidental. It was necessary.

Now, you’re more powerful than ever. Hyunjin doesn’t know, and perhaps he doesn’t need to. What matters is that your soul is bound to his, and with your magic restored, you can ensure it stays that way.

You clench your hands into fists, feeling the hum of energy within. For the first time in a long time, you’re not afraid. Not of Flint, not of losing Hyunjin, not of anything.

This is your world now. And you’ll do whatever it takes to protect it.

“With fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.”

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pixii33 · 5 months ago

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𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, this shot is not following the series time, it's just a especial shot for you to have a glance at their future. Hope you enjoy!

The evening sun cast long shadows across the Great Hall of the Red Keep, where the court had gathered for a summons issued by King Viserys. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the anticipation of an impending confrontation. On one side of the hall, you stood, your gaze sharp and unwavering, with your sons, Aegon and Aemond, beside you. On the other stood Rhaenyra, her bastard children clinging to her skirts, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Viserys paced the dais, his face a stormy mask of fury. His royal robes trailed behind him like a shadow, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. His anger had been ignited by a recent incident—a confrontation in which Aegon had brutally punished one of Rhaenyra’s bastards for mocking Aemond.

Aegon stood beside you, his face red and defiant, while Aemond, still shaken but resolute, clung to your side. The King’s voice echoed through the hall, a thunderous roar that made everyone flinch.

“Why did you attack that boy?” Viserys bellowed, his eyes blazing with fury as he fixed his gaze on Aegon.

Aegon looked up at his father, his chin held high despite the trembling in his voice. “He made fun of Aemond,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “He said terrible things about him.”

Rhaenyra, standing with her bastards clutching at her skirts, shot a smug glance toward you. Her expression was one of malicious satisfaction, her gaze clearly relishing the turmoil unfolding before her.

The King’s rage was palpable. “So you took it upon yourself to act as judge and executioner? Is this how you are taught to handle insults? By violence?”

Before Aegon could respond, Viserys’s hand shot out, clearly intending to strike him. But you moved with swift, decisive action, placing yourself squarely between the King and your son. Your posture was rigid, your expression fierce.

“Stop,” you commanded, your voice a steely edge that cut through the King’s fury. “You will not lay a hand on him.”

Viserys’s eyes widened in surprise, his anger momentarily faltering. “And why should I not?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“Because Aegon did nothing wrong,” you replied, your tone unwavering. “He defended his brother from a child who deserved punishment. Her bastards should be the ones to be ashamed, not my son.”

The hall fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Rhaenyra’s smugness faltered, her eyes flicking between her own children and you. The King’s face twisted with both anger and confusion.

“How dare you speak to me in this manner?” Viserys roared. “Are you suggesting that I am blind to the truth? That my own daughter and her children are to be shunned while your sons are treated as paragons of virtue?”

“They are your sons!” You faced Viserys with unyielding resolve. “You may choose to be blind, but I am not. Rhaenyra’s children are the ones who instigate and mock. My sons are merely defending themselves. And if you choose to punish them for that, it is you who are blinded by favoritism and false loyalties.”

Viserys’s eyes flared with indignation. “Watch your tongue, Y/N. Such words are treasonous, and I will not tolerate them.”

“Cut my tongue if you must,” you declared, your voice rising in defiance. “But you cannot blind people like you are blinded by Rhaenyra’s lies and deceit. Rhaenyra is the one who bears bastards, and it is she who should be held accountable, not my children.”

The hall was filled with a stunned silence, broken only by the soft, nervous whispers of courtiers and servants. Viserys’s face grew red with rage, but before he could respond, you continued.

“I will not stand idly by while my children are mistreated. You want to punish Aegon for protecting his brother? Then do so. But know that in my eyes, you are as much a part of the problem as Rhaenyra’s misdeeds.”

Viserys, caught between his anger and the startling boldness of your words, struggled to find a response. He looked at Rhaenyra, whose face had now twisted into an expression of barely concealed outrage.

“Enough!” Viserys finally bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. “This matter will be dealt with as I see fit. And if any further insults or violence occur, there will be consequences.”

You met his gaze, your expression resolute. “I will not back down from protecting my children, even if it means facing your wrath.”

Viserys’s face softened slightly, but only in the sense of weary resignation. He turned his attention to Rhaenyra. “Get your children under control. If there is another incident like this, it will be dealt with harshly.”

Rhaenyra’s lips curled in a sneer, but she knew better than to argue further. She gathered her children, her eyes shooting daggers at you as she left the hall.

As the court dispersed, you gathered Aegon and Aemond close, your protective instincts in full force. You kissed both of them on the forehead, your eyes filled with both love and a fierce determination.

“Do not worry,” you whispered. “No matter what happens, I will always be here to protect you. You did nothing wrong, and you never should have to apologize for defending each other.”

Aegon and Aemond nodded, their expressions a mixture of relief and lingering unease. You led them out of the hall, your heart heavy but your resolve unshaken. For you, there was no higher calling than the protection of your children, and you would let nothing—neither court politics nor royal indignation—stand in the way of their safety and happiness.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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doumadono · 8 months ago

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Silent Waves, Silent Wounds - Touya Todoroki x Reader

A/N: today's episode broke my heart and made me cry uncontrollably. With a nice prompt set for this week's challenge in a community I'm part of, I decided to combine the two. I just hope my Touya will survive. Gif was made by @gamergirl-niffler

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Touya's first breaths of freedom were laced with the sterile scent of antiseptics and the distant echoes of calamity.

Beneath the flickering streetlights of Musutafu, shadows twirled across the damp pavement, casting the world in veils of half-truths and murmured secrets.

It was upon a night cloaked in despair that Touya Todoroki, shrouded in the remnants of his shattered past, escaped the suffocating confines of what should have been a sanctuary. The hospital, ostensibly a bastion of healing and hope, had morphed into nothing but a prison, all under the malevolent gaze of All For One.

In a moment fueled by raw desperation and a primal urge for freedom, Touya, with hands trembling and heart pounding against the cage of his ribcage, ignited the very foundations that had ensnared him. Flames, hungry and unrestrained, licked upwards, clawing at the structure with a ferocity. Fire roared through the hallways, a fierce, unforgiving inferno that consumed everything in its path — medical charts, synthetic bed linens, the false promises of recovery.

As the inferno raged behind him, Touya stumbled into the cold embrace of the night.

The city loomed large and indifferent, its countless lights flickering like distant stars, unreachable and cold. Each step was a battle, his body a map of wounds both fresh and long endured, scars that told tales he could barely remember, tales of a mere boy who once dreamed of heroism but found himself ensnared in a nightmare of his father's making.

He moved through the shadows, a spectral figure haunted by the echoes of his past and the uncertain horrors of his future. Tonight, the world was both his enemy and his ally, hiding him from those who would seek to drag him back to that hellish place, yet offering no comfort from the relentless grip of his solitude and sorrow. His face, marred with scars that told stories of a tragic past and unresolved pain, was not one that people usually turned to for comfort.

As he navigated through the dimly lit streets, his eyes were cautious and wary of the stares that followed him like specters.

It was then he saw you - a girl sitting alone on the curb, your sobs cutting through the muffled sounds of the city like a siren’s call. You were young, perhaps no older than he, with tears streaking your cheeks and your shoulders trembling under the weight of your unseen burdens.

Despite his fears and the fresh pain of his own memories, something within him stirred - a remnant of the hero he once aspired to be. Hesitant, he approached you, his voice barely above a whisper after he cleared his throat, trying to sound normal, even though he knew it was no longer possible. “Hey, are you okay?”

You jerked your head up, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and surprise as they landed on his disfigured features.

For a heartbeat, Touya thought you would scream, run away, or recoil in horror.

But then, something remarkable happened - your expression softened, and your initial fright melted into a sad, understanding smile. “Not really,” you confessed, wiping your tears away with the back of your shaking hand. “My dad… he drinks too much. And my mom, she doesn’t really care. She threw me out tonight. Said she’d had enough of me being useless.”

The words struck a chord in Touya. Abandonment, pain, a longing for something better - themes that resonated deeply within his own life. Sitting heavily beside you on the cold curb, he offered you a timid smile, one that seemed almost out of place on his scarred visage. "I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a mixture of warmth and a chilling detachment born from years of conditioning under his father’s harsh regime. “I… I know what it’s like to feel like you have no one.”

You studied him, your reddened eyes lingering on his scars with a curiosity born from your own pain rather than judgement. “What happened to you?” you asked gently, perhaps too gently for the horror that his story contained.

Touya looked away, his eyes tracing the patterns of light and shadow on the ground. “I don’t remember everything,” he confessed. “But I know I was trying to prove something to my dad. It didn’t end well, as you can see.”

You sat in silence, the world around you bustling with life, yet oblivious to the shared moment of grief between two strangers.

People passed by, their glances sharp and sometimes filled with a disdain that neither of you were unfamiliar with.

Sensing Touya’s discomfort, you made a decision. “Let’s go somewhere else,” you suggested, a spark of resolve lighting up your tear-stained face. “Somewhere away from prying eyes. I know a nice place, if you'd like to join me.”

Touya nodded casually, “I think I’d like that. I have nowhere to be anyway.”

Without another word, you stood, holding out you hand to help him up. Your touch was warm, a stark contrast to the coldness he had come to expect from the world.

Together, you walked through the deserted streets, your steps in sync, until the city sounds faded into the background, replaced by the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore.

Beneath the expansive canopy of the night sky, the beach lay deserted, bathed in the ethereal, silvery glow of the moon. The ocean before them transformed into a shimmering tapestry, each wave weaving threads of light across the dark canvas of water. It was here, with the cool sand cradling your steps and the vast, relentless sea stretching into infinity, that you discovered a fleeting sanctuary — a momentary escape from the ravages of your tormented existences.

As you settled onto the sand, the ocean's eternal murmurs surrounding you, Touya found himself unexpectedly comforted by the raw, natural beauty of the scene. Yet, he was taken aback when you revealed that it was not just chance that brought you to this tranquil haven in the dead of night.

“I come here often, especially after fights at home,” you confessed softly, your eyes reflecting the moonlight like fragments of a broken mirror. “The sound of the waves… it calms the storm inside me. Maybe it can do the same for you.”

Touya hesitated before his voice broke the silence. "I'm like these waves," he murmured, his voice tinged with a haunting sadness. "Crashing again and again, with no control, no end. I don't even remember why I started… what I was trying to prove." His gaze was lost to the horizon, where the dark sea met the darker sky, his face a mask of sorrow sculpted by the silvery light.

"It's hard, isn't it?" you said softly, pulling your knees closer to your chest, feeling the chill of the night seeping through your clothes. "Feeling like you're caught in a storm with no shelter in sight. I sit here, night after night, wondering if the screaming will ever stop, if there will ever be a night without tears, without all this emptiness."

"Does it help? Coming here, hearing the waves?" Touya asked.

"It doesn't stop the pain," you admitted, "but sometimes, it makes it bearable. The sea doesn't judge, doesn't demand. It just is. And for a little while, I can just be too, without worrying about the next wave that might knock me down."

"I wish I could remember what peace feels like," he confessed, his words blending with the whisper of the wind.

You reached out, your hand brushing against his, a small gesture of comfort in the overwhelming vastness of your shared solitude.

"Maybe we can't go back to who we were," you suggested, your voice a tentative whisper against the symphony of the sea. "But perhaps we can find new reasons to look forward to the sunrise."

Touya's hand trembled slightly under yours, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he gripped your hand, his hold tentative but needing the connection. "I'd like that," he said, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips, as fragile and fleeting as a wave’s crest as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "To look forward to something, to hope for something better."

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sasahuaa · 26 days ago

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Guide on how to get married (by the God of Spring)

Synopsis: To love and be loved is the greatest blessing both deities received, as conversations about the future started to arise, the deity of the Underworld was afraid of forever ruining their lover, but the god of spring begs to differ.

A retelling with Persephone!Childe and Hades!gn!reader

first time writing more os reader’s pov instead of the character bc it would fit better in this, honestly both Childe and reader bullshit their perspective a lot, reader is a bit insecure but not unwilling, and Childe kinda comforts them in the end, the three-day ceremony is a mention how the ancient greek did weddings but not very much dived into in this situation (I tried to research how gods used to marry in mythology but I didn’t find any descriptions, just a “oh and then they got married/was forced to marry”, genuinely, is there any hellenic text that describes it? so this fic is just a non conventional way of eloping)

The god of spring giggled merrily as he put a flower crown on your head, his deft fingers making the flowers bloom and release pollen, he lowered his hands until they wrapped around your neck, blowing wind to your face with plenty of petals following his will.

Years ago, when both of you met for the first time, he wasn't as keen to physical touch like he is now, seeking your warmth willingly and falsely whining when his needs aren't met. Your younger selves met during one of your outings from the Underworld, the melancholic reign is suffocating and gloomy on good days, and a living nightmare in the worsts.

To look at the bright sky and hear the song of the birds were incomparable experiences after dealing with the screams of agony from wandering souls. And though Childe couldn't say he faced the same situation, he still delighted anytime he ran away too far away from his home, for to go around the world filled him with indescribable joy.

It was kind of amusing, if not borderline insane, that from all the people that he could choose to have a relationship with, from gods to mortals, he would choose just the one that home was almost like a prison.

And there was always a pinch of guilt when you thought about the future, Childe would often babble about it, how he wanted to spend it with you, to the decorations and foods your house should have to the names of possible pets. This saddens you so, because for the way the god talked, it would mean that the Underworld would lock him in.

For all the years spent together, though still indulging him in his dreams when he mentions them, you never really took a step to really achieve them. It was just obvious, marrying the deity of the underworld is the worst fate to exist.

And you loved him so much, he was really the ray of sunshine that your home misses, a flame of affection so gentle that contrasts with the cold and dark walls of your palace. Being with him was one of the best things that happened to you, as his love for you also burns deep and is capable of igniting even a forest of ice, and yet, your heart hurted from imagining how miserable Childe would be if they end up together forever.

You hoped that Childe saw that the same way, that it meant giving up his freedom to partake in the food from your realm. But yet, most things hardly ever go your way.

“We should marry already” he smiled, his eyes so usually dull sparkled at the mere word “It has been a while, don't you think so?”

“An” you avoided his eyes, the flower crown slowly started to wilt, though you were unsure if this was result of your own nervousness as you lost control of death or if it was a sign of Childe's impatience, and an excuse needed to be made quickly, before the other god lost his spark again! “I am not acquaintanced with marriage rituals, beloved”

Even if it was a dumb, shit excuse!

“Different cultures have different customs” Childe waved a finger before your face “As for the godly customs… while I would like the usual three-day ceremony, I would also very much appreciate a banquet in the name of our love.”

“Why not celebrate the three-day ceremony?”

“You know the other gods wouldn't agree to that” his shoulders slumped “Worst case scenario we should pretend that you kidnapped me”

“Oh” you blinked a couple of times before his suggestion downed on you, immediately making the probably most smart decision of pretending you heard nothing and focus on the important part, Childe's freedom! “Maybe the other gods have a point-”

“Never” Childe said between his teeth “I know what is better for myself”

“... I see”

“So the proper way our wedding should proceed is being served the best food of all realms!”

The best food of all realms! You certainly could work with that, after all, Childe never tasted the Underworld food to appoint it as the best, and since the only way for him to be imprisoned there is by eating its food… You could avoid giving it to him entirely!

“You are right” he smiled sweetly at the praise “When would be a proper date for our wedding?”

"Right now”

“... oh��

“Listen to me, this is the ideal moment, before anyone else get wind of this”

“Alright” you sighed, catching his hands in your and bringing to your mouth to deliver small pecks on his knuckles. The god of spring felt goosebumps up his arms at the cold touch, kissing your lips as if to warm them with his.

There was a strain in your stomach as you opened a cleft through the earth, a clear passage to the Underworld right in front of your feet. It's the first time that Childe will venture these walls, and you couldn't help but worry that he would feel grossed out by the dark surroundings.

Stealing a glance in his direction, Childe looked around the place in interest, there was almost a skip in his steps, and his smile was as bright as it was when the both of you first confessed.

“Nice landscape, it seems like a lovely place”

Well, you guess you should know by now that Childe is not easily scared by the things the other gods avoid.

The deity praised your palace as you guided him, not once releasing his grip on your hand the whole way. As you entered the dining room and pulled a chair for him, you muttered a lowly sorry “I know you asked for a banquet, but this situation is very sudden, so I won't have much food available”

“You worry too much, love, any food is good” Childe pinched your cheeks and dismissed you to the kitchens.

It was quite untrue to say that your home was lacking food, for even the undead or the other resident deities enjoy to regale themselves with good food from time to time, what is true is the short stock of Overworld food, as you don't bring much back with you during your trips and most are gifts to the sleep deity that their earthly friends give them.

Either way, with the little you have you carefully prepare his meal, with a side dish containing figs and lotuses, a wine glass also was included on the tray. You knew that everything that was plated were things that he enjoyed, everything was accounted for, as you do love him and don't want to serve Childe anything less than perfect.

And yet, when the dishes were placed before Childe and you saw his eyes slowly darken and the corner of his mouth tensing, you felt a chill up your spine and a sense of dread in your chest. Your body momentarily paralyzed when he began to talk.

“My love, why didn't you serve me Underworld food?” the god of spring recomposed himself, eyes searching for yours when he looked up.

“Ajax, my dear, you know that the Underworld food will forever bound you to this place, I would never lock you here-”

“Why?” he interrupts sternly “I am aware of the consequences of eating anything from the Underworld, I was reminded constantly by my mother about it after the first time I met you, and I asked for eloping with food with purpose in mind”

You gapped at his words, dropping to your knees by his side and talking his hands in yours “Still, it would take your freedom away from you, I don't want you to resent being stuck here”

“I chose to spend forever with you and this is something I will never regret” Childe tightened his grip on you “But now I wonder if you had the intentions of spending forever with me at all”

“Of course I want to stay forever with you!” you immediately deny, hugging him close “You know the great cost of it though”

Childe sighed and petted your back, his gaze softened while he looked at you and cupped your face, tapping his index finger under your eye in admonishment.

“And I entered our relationship knowing that, I know you worry about me, but I know since the start what I got myself into and have been dreaming of that” Childe took a lotus seed in the middle of his fingers, forcing your mouth open with his other hand and placing the delicacy on your tongue “Won't you bring me proper food now, beloved?”

I began to write this because I had the phrase “He is not stuck with me, I am stuck with him” in mind but I guess I changed the writing direction by the end

fully focusing on Vil as an omega now, I am terrible with dates bc I figured I am a very slow writer, but I will try my best to post till sunday

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact

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sarqhsstuff · 9 months ago

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RUIN ME - Ellie Williams

Mechanic AU Ellie Williams x AFAB (assigned female at birth) reader. There is no use of Y/N, or a chosen name for the reader. 2.5k words

Content Includes: oral sex/cunnilingus (reader receiving), kissing, cursing, pet names (pretty, baby, ex), sub!reader + dom!ellie, and overall vivid descriptions of sexual activity.

A/N: I apologize for how long it took me to put out another one-shot. I hope to start writing more again soon. :D Please comment with any suggestions about how I can improve my writing, or characters!

My fingers grip the wheel as I turn into the garage. For the third time this month, my car has an issue. First was my brakes, then my spark plugs needed replacing, and now my oil needed refilling. I push down on the brakes with aggravation as I park the car. I twist the key out of the ignition with one hand, and my other flies to the door handle. My fingers curl around the plastic, and yank on it. I kick the door open, and slide my body out of the vehicle. An exasperated breath leaves my lips as I now push the door back into place.

My feet work quickly on the dirtied concrete floor. I could hear grunting from across the garage, and assume it was my familiar mechanic. My previously furrowed brows lift as I walk around a car to see a woman with auburn brown hair. The person in question pushes themself out from underneath a Honda, and stands up. They brush off any dust collected onto their coveralls before looking down.

“Hello? What's got you all riled up?” Her lip jerks into a smirk as she peers at my frustrated state with amusement. As I notice this, my eyes wander around the rest of her face. Freckles litter her skin in a way which almost contours her nose. Her hair is half pulled back into a small ponytail, and is ruffled around her forehead. Strands stick out in random directions, only effectively catching my attention for a moment. What distracts me more is the woman's striking sage eyes, and pink cracked lips. Overall she looks scruffy, but in an oddly appealing way.

“I’m sorry-” My voice slices through the air with an intensity which wasn’t intended, “Is Jesse here? My car needs an oil fill.” Unbeknownst to me, my eyes were morphing into slits as I glared at the mechanic. Additionally my lips are pouty with anger, and my hips tilt with a similar sass.

The woman only chuckles, and rips off a glove. My sight follows her hand as she wipes her forehead. “Sorry, but Jesse isn’t here today. I’d be happy to tell him that-” She sticks her hand out to point at me, as if to ask for my name.

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” I am fast to respond. Both hands of mine dart to my head, and push against my temples. I rub them in hopes to soothe my increasingly growing anxiety.

The mechanic observes my stressed state, and takes a step forward. She rests a hand on my upper arm, and pushes the limb down gently. “No need to get your panties into a twist, ey?” Her tone is still one of amusement as she speaks, but now includes a hint of false comfort.

Her eyes sparkle as her thumb starts to rub rhythmically on my forearm.

“Lucky for you, I’m always happy to do extra work for pretty girls.” I watch as her lips stretch into a prideful smile.

All of my facial muscles quickly relax, and my mouth gapes open slightly. “Oh uh, thank you-” My eyes wander down her coveralls and rest upon an embroidered name tag, “Ellie.” In comparison to just moments ago, my voice is a lot softer. I suddenly feel awkward, and apologetic for my previously uncalled for attitude.

“Always my pleasure.” Ellie’s tongue passes over her lip as she talks. Her eyes momentarily glint with something devilish. She begins to walk over to my car, determination laced in her steps. Her short hair sways with the wind and I watch it intently as we cross the cement.

I lean against my headlights as Ellie reaches down to grab the car hood edge. As she lifts it, I watch her muscles contort under the pressure. I shield my eyes immediately from the sight. However, my efforts prove fruitless. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand dive deep into the car front. I suck my lip to be between my teeth, and grind down on the flesh. Thoughts run wild in my head, and I curse internally.

After a few moments, Ellie stands up straight. She lets out a heavy sigh, and stares at the engine with a perplexed expression. “The problem is definitely not your oil.” She confirms my growing suspicions with a solemn tone.

This time I curse aloud, and my lip returns to its previous position. If I wasn’t so enthralled with my self pity, I would have noticed Ellie tracing my mouth with an enticing look. “I can’t deal with this shit.” I mumble under my breath. My eyes search the floor frantically as I try to think of a solution. When my mind turns up blank, I look to the mechanic with extreme plead.

“It’s alright..” She responds in a soothing tone before taking a short pause. Her brows lift almost as if she had a realization. “Let me give you a distraction” Ellies’ tone switches to something more sultry and all promising.

I inspect her demeanor for a minute while I try to find the underlying meaning of her proposal. Her pupils are swollen and her irises sparke. The hands which had been on the vehicle now shake at her sides with anticipation. “What.. What do you mean?” I can not help to hide the intrigue in my voice.

Her smile grows with a newfound confidence from my words. She moves fast, fueled by a secret determination. Soon enough, the car hood is slammed shut and she begins to pat the red aluminum. “C’mere pretty.” The words pass through her curved lips naturally, and cause a chill to pass over my spine.

I take a hesitant step forward, and slowly turn my body around. I use my hands to push down on the hood, which lifts me up. Ellies’ hands fly to my waist, and she assists me. Once I am sat, the mechanic inches closer to me. My legs are forced to spread open to allow her to stand between them. Surprisingly, her limbs never leave my form despite my stable condition. My face muscles lift into a shocked expression, and I’m left speechless.

“I have been non stop thinking about this ever since you walked your pretty ass over to me.” Ellie admits with a smug face. Her hands start to rub up and down over my hips, and a digit catches on my clothing. I watch her eyes trail over my curves and up to my awaiting face.

I am practically frozen in a state of shock. My face undoubtedly exposes my uncertainty, though whether Ellie saw and chose to ignore it or was too ravished with me is unknown. In a pathetic attempt to speak, my mouth gapes open slightly. My company notices this in an instant, but only chuckles at my struggling. “Do you want me to stop? Because if not, you should know I only intend to ruin you.” She talks in such a sensual and commanding way that I cannot stop the groan that escapes me.

At this, Ellie suddenly snaps. Her body pushes against mine and her mouth greets my lips. I am momentarily unmoving, but as her tongue runs along my bottom lip my consciousness slides back into place. I reciprocate her desperation as our lips slide together. Saliva soon coats our skin, only allowing us to kiss more effectively. My lips part open to gasp as a hand snakes around my neck, stabilizing me. Ellie uses her current height advantage as she pulls backwards to crane my neck. Our heads are essentially parallel as we collide. Her forgotten hand abruptly lands on my chest. She now gropes the fatty skin through fabric, her fingers applying rhythmical pressure. This entices a groan to rumble in my held throat.

Our mouths never leave each other as she lifts a leg. A knee ends up between the middle of my thighs, but doesn’t move any closer to my core. Thoughtless in the kiss, I happily accept the bony intrusion. Ellie leans her body daringly harsher on mine, which forces my legs to spread even further. My hips allow this stretch, though it stings and is unfamiliar. I whine against the car enthusiast's lips. Our skin pleasantly vibrates against each other, and this time coaxes a moan from Ellie. Her tongue returns to my entrances, and pokes at it impatiently. As soon as my foggy brain senses this, my mouth moves to provide an entryway. The damp muscle presses against the fleshy roof, before the tip licks at it. I struggle to verbalize my pleasure since a hand is still wrapped tightly around my neck. Only weak guttural shaking presents itself. When Ellie feels this, she tightens her digits to squeeze even harder.

Without warning, a knee shoves against my pulsing core. The sheer contrast of temperature in the skin creates an odd nerve rattling sensation. Her knee digs deeper before starting the move up and down. The polyester of her coveralls rubs against my thin clothing article. My thoughts become clouded with dirty sin.

Lost in pleasure, I lose momentum in the kiss. Ellie struggles to keep up the arousing clash of our lips alone. With a frustrated grumble, she pulls her head away from mine. Eyes flooded with lust glare at mine. “Can’t even handle my knee, Baby?” My cunt throbbing intensifies at her taunting words. “Such a pussy drunk whore.” She spits. I am not only shocked at the harsarity of her words, but also the reaction of my body. The degradation only adds to my overflowing pleasure.

The combination of friction against my core and Ellies’ voice lures a loud whimper. A beating force in my groin becomes intoxicatingly present. I grind my hips down against her knee in desperation, my ass sliding along the car hood. As if overwhelmed by my pathetic display, Ellies' head falls into the crook of my neck. She lets out low grunts as she continues to grind her knee into me. Her lips are so close to my ears that I swear I am able to feel my drums quaking. They shake against my inner flesh, and rattle my mind. I am so bombarded with pleasing sensations that my eyes squeeze and I cry out into the garage.

Her hand groping my breast falls off, and lands on the hood. She flexes her fingers before using the arm to steady herself. Now her leg thrusts are much faster and reach deeper between my legs. Soft cracked lips press against the skin under my ear. I squirm beneath Ellie, and my jaw goes slack, no longer preventing myself from expressing my bliss. “I… I’m-” My brain cannot fathom to form words as my nerves are being inflicted with such delight.

“Aw, are you close?” Ellie teases. She speaks through low laughter, and the expulsion of air blows onto my neck.

My core tightens with ecstasy. Filthy nothings leave me as I grow even closer to bliss than before. I can feel my arousal soak through the fabric of my pants and onto Ellie’s. Just as I am about to snap, Ellie’s leg retreats from between my thighs. She presses a feather light kiss on my neck pulse, before pulling away.

She watches my face contort into a distraught expression. A boisterous chuckle echoes throughout the garage as the mechanic tosses her head back. “I couldn’t end this so soon, could I?” Her lips morph into a taunting smile, and her head tilts slightly to the side. I frown in dismay at her obvious attempt to play innocent.

There is a soft thud as she sets her foot onto the tar. A hand then slowly moves toward my face, and cups it. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Ellie coos, her voice contradictingly soft in comparison to before. As she speaks, her knees start to bend. My eyes widen as I watch her slowly go down to crouch. Her face is now directly between my trembling thigh muscles, which slightly hang off the hood of the car. I can not bring myself to respond, as I am so shocked. Based on her previous statements, I anticipated Ellie to quickly get me off before fixing my car. However, that was everything but her intentions.

Rough hands travel to my waist, and experienced fingers work quickly to unbutton my pants. Her green eyes are narrowed into concentrated slits as she diligently unclothes me. Soon my pants are discarded somewhere on the cold flooring, my panties following. Her gaze twists into something more sinister as she stares at my dampened core. My folds glisten under the harsh overhead lights, and my clit is pink and throbbing. She observes my hole clenching around the air, and her lips turn into a frown.

“El-” Just as I begin to say her name, Ellie’s face plants itself against my sex. Her tongue hungrily laps at my core, and her eyes flutter close as she admires the taste. On the contrary, my eyes grow wider. I pant out a curse, and my hands snake down into her hair. My fingers greedily pull at her auburn strands, pathetically attempting to pull her even closer. Abruptly, her muscle starts to drag up and down my folds. It gathers my juices before plunging inside of me. I moan at the impure sight of Ellie eating me out while I am sat atop my car.

Her hands push down on my thighs, and pull them together. They cage her head in, though she seems to enjoy it. I highly doubt her ability to breathe, but she doesn’t seem to flinch. On the contrary, my entire body is shaking with delight. I cannot help but tighten my hold on her hair and yank her even closer. I don’t just need her against me, but enveloping my whole being.

As my brain shivers with delight, it begins to dangerously wonder. If anyone were to stumble into the garage, they would be met with certainly a sight. One woman sat up on a car hood while another kneels before her and pleasures her.

Ellie’s tongue works hard to bring me to my climax. My moans echo against the concrete walls. I suddenly feel her hum against me, which vibrates my wet folds. My core tightens and loosens uncomfortably, which causes my eyes to squeeze shut.

“Come on, Baby. Cum on my face.” Ellie pulls her face just far enough from my sex to mumble. She speaks in such a soothing tone, that I feel I must comply. My orgasm washes over me, a slow calm wave. My nerves tingle underneath my skin as the sensation passes through. Heavy pants are the only sound being emitted from Ellie or I. Her eyes are wide and focused as she watches me.

Once the climax has almost entirely run its course, Ellie finally draws her attention away from my lower body. Our eyes meet and we share a soft silent conversation. There is no doubt in my mind, and in hers, that I will be coming back to the garage again soon.

#ellie williams #ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #tlou #wlw smut #wlw

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cataboliac · 1 year ago

Text

Enkindle

A sequel to Ignite Son Seungwan 11k words

*Hey Wendy, are you at practice today?*

Trembling fingers typed out the message, a hesitation lingering in each keystroke. Releasing a deep breath, you then hit the send button. The cold air seemed to thicken—your body grappling with the nerves that had been building up all day. The whirring noise did little to calm the unease as you anxiously waited for her response.

*Hon! Yes. We are about to finish up. Isn’t it early morning where you are now?*

You smile—Wendy has no suspicions whatsoever. The plan is going smoothly.

*I just wanted to start the day right by messaging you first, that’s all.*

*You really know how to make me smile.*

You longed to hear those words from that soothing voice, not distorted behind a microphone or a speaker.

*I miss you so much. Will I see you again for Christmas?*

Her question replaces the nervousness with guilt. You have a definite answer, but she can't know just yet.

The standard excuse would have to do for now.

*Sorry Wannie. I am not sure about the holidays. I’ll keep you updated though, okay?*

*I understand, don't worry. I’m just a bit nervous about our comeback show tomorrow. Wish you were here to see it.*

Seungwan has no idea she's in for such a big surprise.

*You're the best group out there. You're gonna crush it. I will stay up to watch it!*

*I love you. Thank you for always knowing how to cheer me up. Good morning! And good night! :) <3 *

*Goodnight Wannie, I love you too.*

“And see you tomorrow,” you murmur as you look out the porthole. The hum of the engine finally became a comforting backdrop as you neared the end of this carefully orchestrated surprise. The bright Korean skyline slowly comes into view—the warm glow of lights welcoming you home—as the plane makes its final landing approach to Incheon Airport.

______________________________________________________________

Two years have flown by since you left Korea. The rhythm of your days found a new beat on the chilly streets of your hometown of San Francisco, where you busied yourself teaching choreography classes. You were no longer bound by the constraints of a strict schedule or dietary regimen, relishing in the anonymity that accompanied the bustling life. Rarely did anyone recognize you, and in this newfound simplicity, you were living.

Yet, the plainness of your new life couldn't fill the void that persisted in your heart. No matter how hard you tried to occupy your time, a significant part of you remained in Seoul. You left many friends and family, leaving an unmistakable ache.

Especially the absence of the love of your life.

Despite agreeing to a long-distance relationship, you and Seungwan were entering unknown territory. It terrified you both to the core. But you found a way to make it work, communicating daily through messages and video calls. Whether it was before dawn or late at night, your day wouldn't feel complete without sharing moments with each other. The longing for physical closeness only intensified as time passed—the desire to return to Korea echoed persistently in your mind.

Thankfully, you saw each other a few times last year. The previous visit was for Christmas—nearly 11 months ago. You both knew that these sporadic reunions were not sustainable in the long run. The absence of physical intimacy, the constant effort to maintain emotional connections, and the doubts lingering in your minds all pointed towards an inevitable ending.

But you weren't willing to let it end like that.

That's why, since your last trip, you've been quietly discussing plans with friends and family. This next trip will hopefully be more permanent—a chance for a more lasting connection.

You hated keeping Seungwan in the dark, but on the other hand, you didn't want to give her false hope if the plan fell through. It was more important to ensure this worked for a long-term stay before telling her.

Your musings are interrupted by the last of your luggage passing by you on the conveyor belt. Thankfully, you grab it effortlessly and lump it onto the trolley. With all of your belongings in check, you head outside.

As you exit the revolving doors of Incheon Airport, the icy fresh air of Korea greets you once more in its cold, loving embrace as you step out the doors of Incheon Airport. You have almost forgotten how unforgiving the nippy chill of your hometown can be, forcing you to zip up the rest of your jacket. It is so cold you could see the vapor escaping your mouth as you exhale.

Your phone suddenly rings, making you jump in surprise. You’ve been on guard tonight because you didn’t want news of you arriving in Korea. You quickly check your phone, only to release an exasperated sigh.

*Hey, have you landed yet? :P *

*Sooyoung… I told you not to message me when you’re with Seungwan…*

*So you did land! Welcome back! :P *

*And stop worrying so much! The other three are keeping Seungwan busy. And how will you know where to enter tomorrow? :P *

Inhaling deeply, you release a breath, expelling all the pent-up nerves. Your shoulders gradually relax, a noticeable lightness replacing the tension. Admittedly, there's a twinge of anxiety about tomorrow, but Sooyoung's wisdom prevails—let the plan unfold naturally.

*Fine, fine. What is the plan for tomorrow?*

While waiting for Sooyoung's text, you navigate your trolley through the parking lot in search of your ride to the Airbnb. A distant flash of car headlights grabs your attention. As you draw near, the familiar silver van evokes a wave of fond memories, a visual echo of countless rides to various schedules.

You stand in front of the van—and without warning—the passenger door opens, and someone engulfs into you with a hug.

"You bastard! It is so good to see you again!" Jaesung crushes you with a bear hug, almost taking the air out of your lungs. You manage to reciprocate, laughing as he whips you around like a ragdoll. He was always the most affectionate and most sociable among your group mates.

"Never change, man. Never change. Now let me in the car!"

With the help of Jaesung you get your things in the van and leave the parking lot without anyone recognizing you. With some breathing time, Jaesung catches you up on the latest news around the company.

"And all the new trainees are super talented! We try to be more lenient with them, especially the younger ones in school,” Jaesung says excitedly. He decided to stay with the company and help train the new talent.

“This new role really fits you Jae. I'm glad you stayed.” It helps that Jaesung was the leader of your group before getting disbanded.

“And soon we will be complete again! Once everyone is free,” Jaesung says, a hopeful—and now—realistic wish now that you are here.

"Just focus on your surprise with your 'Wannie' baby," Jaesung adds, his cutesy teasing tone making you cover your face in embarrassment.

The van stops at your destination just in time to save you from more teasing. However, this is not the Airbnb you booked. This actually looks like the subdivision you used to live in.

“Jae, what are we doing here?” you ask him as he helps bring your luggage down from the van.

“This is my surprise to you. Open up your hand.” Fearing another of his famous pranks, you reluctantly open your hand to Jaesung, and he drops you the key to your old apartment—the familiar orange keychain still attached.

“No way…”

“Yeah, way! Don’t worry about it, okay? We talked to the place you booked, and we will figure it out. I kept the place tidy for you. And you got it all to yourself for a week cause I will be out for team building with the trainees. I am sure you will have only one guest over."

You jingle the keys in your hand, a cascade of memories flooding your mind. From returning home after misadventures to triumphant schedules and that unforgettable night when you confessed to Seungwan—that apartment was a safe space for you.

“I don’t know what to say… just thank you so much Jae.”

“Don't get too sentimental on me yet! Now give me another hug.” The two of you embrace. Jaesung is the heart and soul of your group. The brotherly bonds never faded over time—they only grew stronger.

"Rest up. You have a surprise tomorrow. See you next week, lover boy!”

Jaesung enters the elevator, and you wave goodbye to each other. Feeling inspired by his thoughtful gesture, you turn towards the door of your old apartment with newfound confidence in your plan. Just then, your phone rings, bringing a detailed message from Sooyoung about the surprise strategy. A smile slowly spreads across your face until it reaches its edges. The realization hits you like a speeding train—you are finally on the verge of reuniting with Seungwan.

______________________________________________________________

Red Velvet bows and thanks their audience again for coming to support them. They did not want to leave the stage, but they still had lots to do for the next day. The standing ovation reverberates through the concert hall, the thunderous cheers accompanying their descent down a corridor toward the private room. In the wake of their performance, the members of their dedicated staff resoundingly offer their congratulations for yet another triumphant fan-sign event.

The excitement from the event engulfs Seungwan in a surge of dopamine, saturating her heart with indescribable joy—the feeling is still the same no matter how far someone is in their career. Being back on stage and able to perform is a feeling she could never trade away. It distracted her from thinking about other things.

Specifically, it distracted her from her thoughts of him. She really wished he could be there, but she knew affording a flight to Korea was no small feat. Seungwan missed it all—the simple touch of his hands, his cheering that pumped her up, the fiery devotion that set her soul on fire. Missing the love of her life came in waves, and sometimes Seungwan felt she was drowning.

At least for now, Seungwan can surface and put all those negative feelings at the back of her mind and focus all her energy on the comeback.

While they walked, the members stuck close to Seungwan, feeling more affectionate than usual. Sooyoung wrapped around Seungwan’s shoulder, holding her close to her side.

"Such a fun fan sign! I even got this cute toy from this sweet fan," Sooyoung says as she holds out a miniature plushie of herself.

"Hey, why didn't I get one? Obvious favoritism!" Yeri shouts, playfully narrowing her eyes and making the others chuckle.

"It doesn't feel so long since our last comeback, but the feeling never gets old," Seulgi says as she throws an arm around Seungwan’'s waist.

Joohyun, who was ahead of everyone, opens the door to their room and peaks inside. She smiles knowingly—satisfied with what she sees—then closes the door and waits for everyone to come closer.

Everyone stops in front of Joohyun, much to Seungwan's bewilderment. "Is there something wrong?" Seungwan asks.

“I took a quick peek inside and saw something interesting. I think it is for all of us,” Joohyun says as she opens the door and steps inside.

“Oh, a surprise?! Let’s see!” Yeri exclaims excitedly.

Everyone enters the room, but the rest hang by the door to let Seungwan explore first.

The room started off simple with basic furniture. Now, it's transformed, decked out in oriental banners, colorful streamers, and red and black wallpaper that matches the classy Chill Kill theme. Giant balloons proudly declare "Congratulations" on one wall. But the most fascinating part is the center table, adorned with a red gift-wrapped box and a bunch of violets—Seungwan's favorite flowers.

Seungwan is left utterly speechless, her mind swarming with a million questions. Slowly, she approaches the bouquet and spots an envelope with her name on it, casually leaning against the box. As she picks it up, her heart skips a beat or two. The distinct cursive handwriting is unmistakably his.

A rush of emotions hits Seungwan like a tidal wave. As she reached for the thick, cream-colored envelope, Seungwan's hands trembled. The weight of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, and she struggled to steady her breathing as tears blurred her vision. Her heart pounded in her chest, aching with anticipation. Trying to control her shaky fingers, she tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

Congratulations on the comeback Wannie! Words cannot put how lucky I am to have met you, that my love is yours, and our two lives are woven and welded together. I will always be beside you. I promise.

As Seungwan read the words on the page, her heart began to flutter, and her cheeks flushed rosy red. She couldn't help but embrace the letter tightly against her chest, imagining the feeling of his arms around her. The bouquet of freshly picked flowers, a mystery gift tucked within, and now this heartfelt letter; he always had a way of surprising her. Yet, as grateful as she was for these tokens of love, they reminded her of his absence. The room felt emptier than ever as if it longed for him to fill it with his presence. These conflicting emotions stirred in Seungwan's heart, intensifying her longing for him even more.

“This…this is so beautiful. I really wished you were here,” she says, hoping the winds carry her words to the other side of the world.

“I always got your back.”

Seungwan freezes, her body reacting to that familiar voice—the hairs on her skin rising, hands shaking, and knees threatening to give out. Memories of doubts and fears resurface, remnants of a time when she believed she might never be together with the love of her life again. Those thoughts lingered in the shadows of her mind, haunting her, especially when she was all alone.

Will I ever see him again?

Will he be the same?

Does he truly love me?

Then, that deep, unmistakable baritone voice filled the room, and Seungwan couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over her. She had always held a special place for him in her heart, like a "Reserved" sign on a quiet table in a restaurant—a place she kept safe, hoping she wouldn't be left waiting.

And today, her date had finally arrived.

It was a moment she had been eagerly waiting for, yet also dreading—for Seungwan's biggest fear was losing him and being left alone once again. But she was determined to let go of her fears and embrace him with open arms.

She had worked tirelessly to elevate her love above the paralyzing clutches of fear, constantly striving to better herself so he would see her proud of the growth she had nurtured.

Seungwan believed in miracles and held onto the belief that everyone is meant to live a life full of passion, purpose, and magic. As an idol, it was her duty to share this belief with others and spread positivity wherever she went.

As she turned around, Seungwan finally laid eyes on the one person she had been yearning for so long; her faith was finally rewarded. A warm smile spread on her face as she took in his features. In this beautiful moment, all her worries melted away, and she knew that everything would be okay with him by her side.

______________________________________________________________

It had been approximately 11 months, 12 days, and 23 hours since you last saw Son Seungwan in person. The sight of her now feels like a lightning strike, transporting you back to the moment she first captured your heart. Those full honey lips that speak words of kindness, full moon eyes that seek out the good in people, gentle hair that tumbled in such rich autumnal hues—love grew, yet she still is the same woman you fell so hard in love with.

“Wendy—”

Before you can say another word, Seungwan closes the distance between you and throws herself into your arms with a hug so tight it seems she will never let you go again. You embrace her firmly, taking a step back from the force of her impact. Your collar becomes wet with her tears as she cries out in disbelief while clinging to you. You rub her back soothingly, hoping to alleviate the flood of emotions within her.

"I am here," you repeat to her—and to reassure yourself.

A couple sniffles are heard behind you. "Girls, let's give the two some alone time," Joohyun says as she leads the girls out of the room.

It takes a moment for Seungwan's breathing to slow. She pulls away from the side of your neck, those hypnotic brown eyes finally meeting yours.

"Ow!" you suddenly cry out as a sharp pain between your shoulder blades shoots up; Seungwan's hand connects with your back.

“How could you do that to me? Making me cry in my makeup and in front of the girls. They are going to tease me to death…” Seungwan says with a pout, but her eyes beam with radiant joy.

Using your free hand, you retrieve a handkerchief from your pocket to gently dab away the excess tears and makeup that had smudged her face—though she was beautiful regardless. When finished, you return the cloth to its place and hold her face in your hands.

Unfortunately, you could not contain the guilt that was eating you up. “I am so sorry. I didn't want you to hold on to any false hope. I needed to be sure I could stay here longer. I am so sorry–"

Seungwan's velvety lips claim yours with such passion that the weight of any apologies you carry melts away. Your body responds instinctively to her warmth, your lips dancing in perfect unison with hers. As you close your eyes, you are enveloped in a sensory symphony—the plush sensation of each kiss, her favorite fruity perfume invading your senses, and the hint of her sweet strawberry lip tint adding to the intoxicating experience. Your hands move from her face to her shoulders, pulling her closer in a warm embrace as you reacquaint yourself with the feeling of her touch. She sighs contentedly, drawing you nearer as if coaxing out more breath from your lungs.

She breaks the kiss, leaning on your forehead, catching her breath. "Don't you dare say sorry, please. You are here, and that means everything to me."

You exhale, the tension finally dissipating from your body. “Okay. Okay, I won’t.”

“How did you manage to plan all of this?” she asks as she thumbs your cheek and caresses your chin.

“A couple months worth of planning. I had to coordinate a lot with your members and manager.”

“How long are you staying?”

"Actually… that’s the best part. I am planning to stay in Korea. Possibly for good." The words roll off your tongue effortlessly.

Seungwan's jaw drops, the words short-circuiting her mind in disbelief. "Wait… you’re not leaving?"

You smile, realizing the weight of your words. “I am here to stay.”

Seungwan snuggles into the warmth of your embrace, her laughter ringing in the room in pure disbelief and happiness. After moments of tears, this was a welcomed change, a beautiful call of joy filling the room as she hugged you tighter. Lifting her off the ground, you spin around in an impromptu dance, caught up in the euphoric moment. The realization that you can now share your life together after being apart for so long hits you both with a rush of emotion.

"Wait, did you just propose?!"

"And did you say yes?!"

"Girls! Let them have their moment!"

The rest of Red Velvet stands by the open door, Sooyoung and Yeri playfully held back by Seulgi and Joohyun. You stop and gently set Seungwan on her feet as the others eagerly await your answer. With the moment gone, you intertwine your fingers with hers, content to bask in the romantic moment amidst your friends' presence.

"Don't worry about it. We'll have plenty more opportunities," you say as you lay a gentle kiss on Seungwan's hand. She leans on your shoulder, attempting to conceal her face, not as confident yet in displays of affection in front of her group.

“Ew, too cheesy. I will let it go for now since we get to see Wendy squirm like this,” Seulgi says, holding up her phone to take some pictures. “Did you open your gift yet?” Joohyun asks Seungwan.

You see the gift box left unopened. Letting Seungwan go, you grab the gift and hand it to her. “Go ahead! I can’t wait for you to see it.”

Seungwan unties the ribbon, allowing it to gracefully fall to the ground. She carefully removes the wrapping paper, revealing a simple black box with no distinguishing features. As she gently shakes it, a faint rattling sound can be heard from within. Intrigued, she lifts the lid, revealing a stunning silver heart necklace. You watch as she becomes enamored with the necklace, running her fingers over its texture and holding it up for a closer look. The other girls gather around her, gushing over the romantic gift.

"I know you already have almost everything, but I wanted to get you something special. Something I haven't given you before... so here it is." Your words come out slightly nervous, unintentionally giving away your feelings, but Seungwan wraps you in another warm hug.

"It's perfect. Will you put it on me?"

She turns around, lifting her hair to expose her slender neck. You take the necklace and delicately place it around her neck, securing the clasp. Turning back around, Seungwan beams at you and plays with the heart pendant hanging from the chain. It does look perfect on her.

"You look beautiful."

As Seulgi snaps a photo and the rest of the girls coo in admiration, this romantic moment is now captured in both of your memories. Your hand seeks hers again, intertwining your fingers and savoring her tender touch.

"Will you join us for dinner?" she asks.

"I wish I could, but I've got to see my grandparents tonight." You catch Seungwan's slight pout, but you squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"I know the group is busy tomorrow, so I made sure to reserve you all to myself the day after, okay?"

Seungwan glances at her group, and they nod back reassuringly. You've ensured a whole day-date, a semblance of a regular routine day with her.

"You really planned for everything. I'm so excited for our day together," she says, kissing you on the cheek.

"And thank you, girls, you've all been amazing with the planning," you acknowledge the girls.

"You better make sure not to hurt her, okay?" Joohyun threatens though the laughter that ensues indicates she's only joking.

As everyone pitches in to help the staff dismantle the decorations, you catch up with the rest of the group. Tomorrow is slated with radio promotions and another music show. Yeri teases about her solo album for next year, adding extra motivation for this comeback. Sooyoung shares updates on her dating life with Crush. Joohyun plans to focus more on acting, while Seulgi is gearing up to delve deeper into studying music production. With the tidying up almost complete, you accompany the girls to the exit.

"I'll see you in two days, okay?" You embrace Seungwan, inhaling her sweet, flowery perfume, still in disbelief that she's in your arms.

"I will. I'm so happy you're back." Seungwan places a tender kiss on your lips before joining the rest of the girls outside.

Finally, alone in the hallway, you slowly lower yourself into an empty chair, a wave of mental and emotional exhaustion washing over you from the whirlwind of the past couple of hours. As you sit there, you can't help but imagine the countless plans for your upcoming date with Seungwan—the words you want to say, the moments you want to share.

“It’s a date.”

______________________________________________________________

“Stupid jetlag!”

You quickly try to freshen up, one hand clutching onto your towel while the other manages a toothbrush in your mouth. The relentless jet lag caused you to sleep through the alarm. Seungwan is about to arrive, and you're not even close to being ready.

After a quick mouth rinse, you rush to your closet to look for the outfit you meticulously planned for the day. Just as you pull your shirt over your head, the doorbell chimes.

"Hold on a sec!" you shout as loud as you can.

As you finish adjusting your shirt and straightening your collar in the mirror, you notice a few stray hairs and quickly tame them with a comb. You double-check your pockets to make sure you have everything you need before confidently heading towards the door. But before turning the knob, you pause and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what lies beyond. With a calm exhale, you twist the doorknob and are greeted by a breathtaking sight.

Seungwan radiates confidence in her stylish winter ensemble, a crisp white coat effortlessly draped over her figure. Underneath, an oversized black sweater and a pair of form-fitting jeans show off her curves. Her smile is infectious, lighting up her cheeks that you love to pinch. Her luscious chocolate-hued locks fall freely around her shoulders, the delicate snowflakes adorning them like jewels in a crown. Seungwan's impeccable sense of fashion only adds to her breathtaking beauty—she could make heads turn at every corner.

“It's rude to stare, love,” she playfully chides, the familiar line eliciting a smile from you.

"Sorry, I'm not used to seeing snow angels walk."

"Ugh, too cheesy and still a terrible flirt. You need to relearn my tricks," Seungwan teases, and the two of you share a warm hug, sealed with a chaste kiss on your lips.

"I could use a refresher course. Maybe with a private demonstration?"

"Now, that's a bit better," Seungwan giggles, seemingly satisfied with your response. Banter with her feels as natural as breathing.

"What was with all the noise a while ago?" she asks.

You blush, scratching your head in embarrassment. "You heard all of that? I… kinda woke up late. I was pretty excited for today."

"You are so adorable. What are we doing today anyway?" she asks, sliding her gloved hand into yours.

"Lunch out, grocery shopping after, then I cook you a nice dinner back here. We end the night with a nice movie. How does that sound?" After closing the door, you lead Seungwan by the hand, embarking on a journey towards your date.

“That sounds like a lovely day.”

Today is the dreaded Monday, marking the start of a new work week. As you board the train, you find it teeming with all sorts of individuals—from diligent students to dedicated salarymen, engrossed in the routine of their daily commutes. The air carries a palpable sense of anticipation, passengers absorbed in their smartphones, occasionally stealing glances in expectation of their respective stops.

However, for you, Monday unfolds as a comforting embrace of normalcy. This is an opportunity for you and Seungwan to revel in the simple authenticity of being yourselves—even if it is just for today. The disguises you two have ensured you won't be recognized, allowing yourselves to go with the flow of people. To the casual observer, you and Seungwan appear as just another couple navigating their way through the ordinary rhythm of a morning commute.

“Arriving at Myeong-dong Station. Please exit on this side"

"This is our stop; let's go! Ready for some lunch?" you ask, leading Seungwan through the sea of people in search of the exit.

Emerging onto the bustling Myeong-dong Shopping Street, the air becomes an enticing medley of delectable aromas from the food vendors. Amid the crowd, you instinctively draw Seungwan closer, ensuring she doesn't get lost in the lively atmosphere. The vendors enthusiastically beckon passersbys to sample their diverse specialties. The sizzling sounds emanating from the pans awaken your appetite, making you lick your lips in anticipation. Although it's been a while since your last visit, the enchantment of this place floods you with cherished memories—and sparks the potential for new ones in the future.

"Anything in mind? You've got an endless supply of food choices." It's been more than a year since you last visited, and the place is surprisingly bustling for this time of day.

Seungwan squeals in joy, already tugging you around to explore the food stalls. "Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go!!"

You observe as Seungwan scans the vibrant street, her eyes searching for anything interesting among the colorful food stalls. Suddenly, her gaze locks onto a stall with skewers. As you both draw closer, the irresistible scent of grilled meat wafts through the air, captivating your senses. The cook applies a generous layer of butter on the hot grill before slowly placing a square Wagyu cube onto the surface. You both watch in anticipation as the meat begins to sizzle and cook to perfection, the savory aroma intensifying with each passing moment.

"How about these? They look amazing!"

Agreeing with her choice, you both approach the vendor. They greet you with a friendly smile as you pick a variety of skewers—odeng, succulent meats, and even some grilled vegetables. You grab the first of the sticks, giving one to Seungwan. Her eyes light up with delight as she chews into the beef.

"This is so yummy! What's next?"

As you and Seungwan wander through the bustling street market, your eyes dart from one colorful food stall to the next. The sweet aroma of freshly made pancakes entices you, while spicy tteokbokki calls Seungwan from a nearby grill. You both eagerly try different dishes, laughing as you compare flavors and textures. Your stomachs eventually reach their limit, and Seungwan spots a cozy café tucked away in a quiet corner. With relief, you sink into plush chairs, relishing the memories made and the delicious treats still lingering on your tongues.

“I’m stuffed, the tteokbokki finished me,” Seungwan says as she rubs her stomach, sitting down next to you.

“That’s because you had two servings,” you tease, earning you a slap on the shoulder.

“I can’t help it if it's my favorite snack.”

Relaxing in the warm and inviting atmosphere of this café, you chat casually while enjoying your hot chocolate and Americano. Seungwan leans against you comfortably, and together you watch people walking by outside. The usual stress of strict managers, rabid fans, and a rigid schedule fades away as you both savor the simple joy of being in the present moment.

"Ready to move?" you ask, and Seungwan nods after sipping the last of her drink. Slipping back into the lively crowd, you guide her to the next destination—an inviting supermarket.

"Next on our agenda: grocery shopping! Any special requests for tonight's menu?"

Seungwan ponders for a moment, her expression playfully pouting in thought. "I've been craving some spicy beef soup lately... that's not too difficult, right?"

"Not at all! We can definitely do that. The ingredients should be easy to find," you assure her with a grin.

You push a grocery cart confidently through the supermarket, starting with spices and making your way to vegetables before finishing with the crucial component: meat. Seungwan's sharp eye spots the perfect beef brisket, and you add a bottle of soju for a tasty pairing.

At the cashier, you hand over your card and notice the lingering gaze of the cashier as he inspects your name with a subtle smile on his lips. He nods at you, hinting at recognition. Seungwan looks over, also confused by the cashier's behavior.

After paying and packing up your groceries, the cashier bids farewell with a friendly wink.

"Thanks for choosing our store.”

"I always have your back!" he adds.

You're taken aback by his words—your catchphrase.

As you leave the store, a sense of comfort washes over you thanks to the subtle acknowledgment from the cashier. It's a reminder that you can make an impact, and this thought stays with you as you step back into the busy streets.

“We should take a taxi; we got a lot of stuff to carry,” you suggest.

The clock strikes 4:00 pm. The blazing tangerine sun begins its descent, painting the cerulean sky with a stunning vermillion glow. The streets are bustling with even more people, their voices blending in a symphony of noise. After searching for a while, you finally hail a taxi to take you home. As the car navigates through the bright city lights, Seungwan rests peacefully on your shoulder. You can't help but reflect on the day that has passed—a whirlwind of emotions, shared laughter, and moments with someone who truly understands you. Though this adventure has ended, the warmth it sparked lingers, promising an intimate evening ahead.

______________________________________________________________

The keys jingle in your hand as you insert them into your front door, the metallic locks engaging as the knob turns. "Finally, home sweet home."

You place the groceries in the fridge, waiting to be used for tonight's cooking session. Beyond the kitchen lay the soft glow of the living room, ready to cradle you both in the embrace of a movie night. As the sky turned into a black carpet peppered with shining stars, the possibility of a connection transcended the ordinary, etching the day into the tapestry of unforgettable memories.

"Hey, want to take a break before we cook?" Seungwan suggests, patting the empty space beside her on the couch.

"We?" you inquire as you settle next to her. Seungwan pulls you in, her arms encircling your waist, snuggling closer. "I don't mind the help, but today is all about you."

Seungwan giggles, rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips. "You're always so thoughtful, but it’s our day. Plus, how will I know you won't accidentally set the place on fire?"

"Oh, you might be surprised by how much I've improved," you counter, playfully jabbing a finger into her side and attacking her ticklish spot. Seungwan bursts into laughter, thrashing your arms.

"Wait! Enough! Okay, I trust you for later! Now hush, and let me cuddle with you a bit longer."

You both sink into the plush fabric of the couch, her body pressed against yours. The room is quiet except for the sounds of her steady breaths, which match the gentle movements of her chest. Your fingers slowly explore her smooth skin, rediscovering every inch of her porcelain complexion. In this peaceful moment, you exchange soft kisses on each other's foreheads and cheeks, occasionally lingering on each other's lips in a tender embrace.

The peace is abruptly broken by the sound of your stomach growling like a machine, making the two of you howl in laughter.

“How are you always so hungry?”

“I mean, we did walk around a lot today. Come on, dinner won’t cook itself.”

After washing your hands, a delightful surprise awaits as two arms lovingly snake around your waist. Turning around, you find Seungwan with a mischievous grin, playfully tying an apron around you. "Ready to showcase your cooking prowess?"

"Absolutely prepared to dazzle you with my culinary magic!" you exclaim, punctuating your words with an exaggerated twirl of your hands. Gathering the groceries from the fridge, you arrange them across the kitchen counter in a colorful display.

"Magic, huh? Well, I'm ready to be enchanted. What's our first spell?" Seungwan quips.

You slide the vegetables and the wooden chopping board over to Seungwan. "How about you work your magic with these? Chop them up while I prepare the meat."

Seungwan nods eagerly and grabs a nearby knife. She grabs a radish and skillfully chops it into uniform squares. Meanwhile, you expertly portion the meat into chunks, placing them into a generously sized pot you had readied earlier.

Amid the rhythmic chopping, you lean close to Seungwan, your warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. "You know, you're the best chef any culinary wizard could ask for."

Her cheeks blush with a delightful warmth. Seungwan steals a quick kiss on your cheek before cheekily pushing you away. "Keep those compliments coming, and I might just grant you access to a... special tasting."

“Be careful, I would do more than just taste,” you quip back, making Seungwan blush even more than the spices she is expertly mixing.

It takes a while to carefully arrange all the meat and radish into the pot. After setting the heat to medium and closing the lid, you join Seungwan in cutting up the rest of the vegetables. In the midst of the chopping, you open the fridge, retrieving the bottle of soju. You uncork it, pouring a shot for each of you. Tapping Seungwan's shoulder to grab her attention, you propose a toast.

“Let’s take a quick break before I check on the meat. What should we toast to?” you ask, raising your glass to Seungwan.

She reciprocates the gesture, intertwining her hand with yours. “To us. I still can’t believe you are here; it means the world to me. Thank you for the best surprise ever”

“To us.”

The two of you clink your glasses and then down the shot, savoring the sweet strawberry flavor swirling around your tongues and down your throats. A swift kiss on Seungwan's forehead punctuates this intimate moment before focusing back on the simmering pot.

With practiced precision, you carefully remove any impurities from the stew and discard them in the waste can. A satisfied grin spreads across your face as you examine the perfectly cooked meat, even inserting a knife to confirm its tenderness. You add it to the bowl of spices Seungwan has meticulously prepared, and you mix everything together with care, taking turns when one of you gets tired. Once everything is well-mixed, you transfer the flavorful combination into a clean pot, turning up the heat and sealing it with a lid.

All that remains is to wait for the 15-minute timer to sound off. As you head back to the couch, you notice Seungwan making her way to your bedroom with her bag in tow.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. And no, you can't join. Not yet, anyway," Seungwan declares, followed by a playful giggle and a wink in your direction.

You stare, dumbfounded, as Seungwan gracefully removes her shirt in one fluid motion. A fleeting glimpse of her bare back adorned with a red lacy bra almost takes your breath away. But before you can fully process the sight, her discarded t-shirt is suddenly covering your face, obscuring your view. You hear the door to your room close and know she's left, but a soft laugh escapes your lips as you fold her shirt and place it on the couch. With some time alone, you browse through popular romance movies while eagerly anticipating the intimate magic that will unfold with Seungwan after her refreshing shower.

You stumble upon the perfect movie just as the alarm announces that dinner is finally ready. Swiftly turning off the TV, you make a beeline for the kitchen. Lifting the lid, you give the stew a stir before seizing a spoon to sample the creation. The spicy tang of the soup dances on your tongue, each spice contributing to a delightful symphony of flavors. The vegetables are cooked to perfection—soft and infused with the spices. You relish the rich essence of the meat, savoring its tenderness as you taste a piece.

“I heard the alarm! How does it taste?” Seungwan's voice echoes from the hallway, her footsteps drawing nearer.

“Try it yourself! You are in for a treat.”

Seungwan strolls into the kitchen, clad in an oversized black long-sleeved blouse, paired with her favorite gray sweatpants. The ensemble is simple yet exudes comfort and elegance. As she glides past you to fetch a spoon, the delightful scent of her favorite fruity shampoo lingers in your mind, causing your heart to flutter ever so slightly. Observing her tasting the soup, you witness her face light up like a Christmas tree, a radiant expression that adds warmth to the homey kitchen atmosphere.

"Wow, that Yukgaejang is delicious! Consider me charmed, my magical chef," Seungwan exclaims, accompanying her words with a high-five.

"Glad that it impressed you. Couldn't have done it without my wonderful sous chef," you respond with a grin.

"You've definitely stepped up your game! Come on, let’s set the table; I'm starving!"

Together, you and Seungwan set the table with plates and silverware for two. You carefully place the pot on a sturdy surface so that it will not damage the delicate cloth underneath. Seungwan brings over the already open bottle of soju and pours two shots. The fragrant stew is served, and you both sit at the table, ready to enjoy the fruits of your culinary collaboration.

Seungwan raises her shot glass, proposing a toast once again. “What should we give thanks for this time?”

You pause, deep in thought, while you rest your chin on your hand before coming up with an answer. “Let's toast to a successful comeback for you! I hope you get to showcase your beautiful voice even more.”

Seungwan's cheeks turn a deep shade of red as she laughs in delight at your praise. Together, you down the shot and quickly express gratitude for the food before eagerly digging in.

The meat was cooked to perfection, a tender and succulent masterpiece that effortlessly parted with every bite. The blend of spices was impeccable, offering a subtle sting that elevated the flavors and made your taste buds dance. As you sipped on the smooth soju, it complemented the meal in perfect harmony, adding a touch of warmth and depth to each dish. Your conversations with Seungwan were seamless, transitioning between updates from the fast-paced idol world to the simple nuances and joys of your everyday lives. The laughter and chatter rose and fell like a soothing melody, creating an atmosphere of comfort and closeness amidst the feast before you.

Seungwan savors the last spoonful of her soup, letting out a satisfied exhale and tenderly rubbing her stomach. "Okay, now I'm absolutely stuffed. It tasted just like Mom's cooking!"

"I've been practicing some of your favorite dishes, just in case," you confess, avoiding direct eye contact. Nervousness tingles through you as you admit this, the desire for the evening to be perfect for her evident.

"You're such a sweetheart. Thanks for remembering." Seungwan rises from her seat, dashing over to you and enveloping you in a tight, appreciative hug.

“Anything for you.”

The two of you tidy up the remnants of dinner, carefully storing the leftovers in a Tupperware container. After placing the food in the fridge, you excuse yourself for a quick shower while Seungwan prepares for movie night.

Under the soothing stream of hot water, you reflect on the special day spent with her. Usually, plans can fall apart, yet tonight has been nothing short of perfect. You hope there are little days like these to share with her in the busy years to come. After a brisk drying off and a quick change of clothes, you find Seungwan engrossed in her phone, a bowl of popcorn perched on the table, and the movie already queued up.

“What's the movie about?” Seungwan inquires as she cozies up to you, resting her head on your chest. Your arms envelop her waist, and your legs naturally intertwine with hers, creating an intimate embrace.

“It's called 'Nothing Serious.' So it's about two strangers who despise dating but meet through an app. Sounds cliché, but Sooyoung highly recommended it.”

"I'm a total sucker for these chick flicks! What are we waiting for?" she exclaims, eagerly reaching for the remote and clicking the play button.

The film seemingly starts with a standard storyline: two individuals, weary of the dating scene, decide to give a dating app one last shot. Yet, what captivates you about the movie are the authentic characters and a plot that unfolds with logical precision.

Personally, you find a connection with the male lead. The character arc, shifting from one job to another, mirrors the quest for a stable connection—echoing the cycle of moving from one relationship to the next, hoping for something enduring.

On the flip side, the female lead exudes stability but carries the baggage of a long-term relationship. Certain aspects of the character evoke thoughts of Seungwan, and you find yourself entirely absorbed in the narrative.

As the movie progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Seungwan. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, her expression a mixture of amusement and contemplation. These little moments make you realize how lucky you are to have her by your side. The warmth of her body against yours creates a sense of comfort, a feeling that makes you believe in the power of relationships.

Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself wondering about the future. Where do you see yourself and Seungwan in five years? Ten years? The possibilities seem endless, yet you can't help but feel a tinge of apprehension. Will your relationship withstand the test of time? Will you both be able to navigate the challenges that life throws your way?

But as you steal another glance at Seungwan, her eyes meet yours, and all the doubts wash away. In this moment, it's as if time stands still, and the worries about the future fade into insignificance. Today, with all its wondrous details, comes rushing back to you—the laughter shared over lunch, the gentle touch of her hand on yours during groceries, and her smile lights up the room during dinner.

Seungwan, sensing a shift in your mood, pulls away slightly and looks at you with concern etched across her face. "What's wrong?" she asks softly, her voice filled with genuine worry.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before responding to Seungwan's question. You reach out to her and gently cup her face, your thumb tracing circles on her cheek.

"Nothing is wrong, Seungwan," you assure her, mustering a small smile. "I was just lost in my thoughts, thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life." Her expression softens as she leans into your touch, her arms slowly intertwining around you.

"You're the one who makes me feel lucky every single day. You found a way to keep us together and found a way back to me," she whispers, her voice filled with tenderness.

"I know we've both had our fair share of ups and downs, and the future can be uncertain," you confess, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "But being here with you. Right now. In this moment, I believe we can face anything together."

Seungwan's eyes glisten with tears. "I believe it," she replies softly. "We've weathered storms, and nothing could make me happier. We can do this. Together. For the rest of our lives."

You sit silently for a moment, letting Seungwan's words sink in. She's right, you think to yourself. You've faced obstacles and challenges before, and you've come out stronger together. The doubts and uncertainties about the future fade as a renewed sense of hope and determination washes over you.

With every passing day, your love for each other grew powerful. You navigated through life's challenges hand in hand, supporting and encouraging one another every step of the way. Together, you inspired each other to reach for the stars and chase after your dreams.

As the movie climaxes, you and Seungwan inch closer to each other on the couch. Your eyes flicker from her luscious lips to her awaiting body, unable to decide where to focus first in this moment of intense desire. Your heartbeat thunders in you—overcharged like a thundering storm about to unleash its power. It's as if all the love and passion built up over the years together is now coursing through your veins, causing every nerve ending in your body to spark with electricity. Adrenaline surges through you, making it impossible to sit still as you feel yourself being pulled closer to Seungwan by an irresistible force. The warmth of her body seeps into your skin, making your heart race and your nerves tingle.

Seungwan's almond-shaped eyes flicker with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability, revealing the intense emotions below the surface. They dart between your eyes, lingering on your lips with an almost palpable hunger. A glossy sheen coats her full, pouty mouth as she licks it hungrily, biting down gently with trembling anticipation. Each rise and fall of her chest is like a heavy drumbeat, her breaths coming in labored gasps that fill the air with heated tension. The deafening silence between you is only broken by the sound of her clothes rustling as her thighs rub together uncontrollably in response to her overwhelming desire for you.

Your other hand trembles as it reaches out to cup Seungwan's face, the need to touch her overwhelming. Your fingers trace every curve and angle of her jawline with aching tenderness, reveling in the softness of her skin beneath your touch. Her breath hit ever so slightly as her eyes searched yours, their depths filled with longing and desire. In this shared gaze, you find solace and reassurance—a silent understanding of all that has led to this moment. The stolen glances whispered confessions, and unspoken declarations culminated in this intense and electric connection between you both.

The flickering images on the screen were a mere background to the intense emotions coursing through the two of you. Seungwan's arms now fully enveloped you, her hold so tight it felt like your ribs might crack under the pressure. Your gaze locked with hers, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing second.

Your voice shook as you bared your heart, desire burning within you.

"I can't hold it in anymore. I need you. Right here and now."

Seungwan's lips curve into a knowing smile, and you lean in to kiss her softly. The taste of her cherry lip balm lingers on your lips as she responds eagerly, her hands tangling in your hair. The heater crackling in the background pales to the heat radiating between your bodies. You can feel Seungwan's quickened breath against your neck as you press closer, your kisses growing more urgent with each passing moment.

Without breaking the embrace, you slowly guide her back onto the plush couch cushions, your body hovering over hers. The sounds of the movie playing on TV fade away as your senses are consumed by the intensity of desire and passion between you.

Your hands explore every inch of Seungwan's body, tracing the curves and contours that have become so familiar to you. You revel in the softness of her skin, the way her body arches beneath your touch, and the way she responds to your every caress.

As your lips continue their dance, your hands find their way to the hem of Seungwan's shirt, slipping underneath the fabric and grazing over her heated flesh. A gasp escapes her lips, mingling with the soft moans that escape your own mouth. The hunger between you intensifies a raw and primal need that cannot be denied. With trembling hands, you begin to undo the buttons of her blouse, revealing the swell of her breasts and the lacy fabric of her bra. Your mouth hungrily finds its way to her collarbone, peppering kisses along the delicate curve that hits her sensitive spot that you know drives her crazy, Seungwan moaning even louder into the room.

Her hands grip your chest, her nails digging into your skin as she pulls you closer. The taste of her desire fills your mouth as your lips move from her collarbone to the exposed skin on her chest. You can feel her heart pounding against your lips, matching the rhythm of your own racing heartbeat. The room is filled with an electric energy, each touch igniting a fire within you. You feel the weight of the moment, the merging of souls and bodies in perfect harmony. Seungwan's fingers then fumble with the buttons of your shirt, a sense of urgency driving her actions.

As Seungwan unbuttons the last of your shirt, a cool breeze hits your exposed chest. You and Seungwan pause from your passionate kiss, resting your foreheads against each other. With one final kiss, Seungwan whispers, "Let's go to your room. Right now."

______________________________________________________________

Seungwan's mind is a jumbled mess of hunger and desire, the sensation swirling through her veins like wildfire. Her voice shakes with urgency, igniting a flame that had long been dormant. Without hesitation, they hurry towards the bedroom, their steps quickened by anticipation and longing.

The dimly lit room transforms into a sanctuary, a haven where time seems to stand still, allowing only the essence of the two souls to matter. The gentle radiance from the bedroom lamp creates soft shadows on the walls, casting an intimate aura over the space. Positioned at the edge of the bed, he locks eyes with Seungwan, a gaze that sends shivers down her spine in response. In this moment, there's an unspoken understanding that transcends mere physical desire. It's a culmination of emotions, a profound connection that defies verbal expression.

Seungwan moves towards him with deliberate steps, her every movement is laden with purpose and anticipation. Her hand extends, fingers trembling ever so slightly, and he responds by intertwining their fingers.

His free hand glides along the contours of her body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Seungwan's breath catches as he leans in, his lips gently brushing against her earlobe, eliciting shivers all over her body. "I've been waiting for this moment," he whispers, his voice octaves lower.

He is typically gentle and soft-spoken, but when his voice deepens, taking on a commanding tone, Seungwan finds it irresistibly sexy when he assumes control. With assertiveness, he leads Seungwan onto the bed, where their bodies sink into the plush mattress. Their lips meet once again, but this time with an intensity born from the depths of their souls. Their tongues flick against each other in perfect rhythm, igniting the passionate fire brighter between them.

Seungwan feels his hand cup one of her breasts, eagerly kneading out the softness of her mound. She gasps as his touch sends electric currents through her body, making her break away from their kiss with a loud moan. His lips move down to her neck, nipping and sucking at her sensitive spot, causing her mind to go wild with pleasure.

As they continue to engage in foreplay, his other hand deftly unclasps her bra, releasing it from her chest. Using this opportunity, Seungwan rolls over him, straddling his lap. She takes advantage of the position, teasing him by slowly removing her bra from one arm at a time, keeping it close to her breasts. He watches with hunger in his eyes as she removes her shirt and finally lets the bra fall, revealing her ample bosom jiggling freely in the air, her warm mink nipples taut from arousal.

"And I am all yours."

Son Seungwan is an unwavering force, her spirit forged in the fires of adversity and molded into a fierce independence that has weathered every challenge life has thrown her. She has endured and overcome every challenge that life has thrown at her—from leaving her home country to surviving a crippling injury and bearing this long-distance love—refusing to show weakness. But now, as she sits naked before him, her walls crumble like a dam, giving way to a raging river of emotion. Every fiber of her being surrenders to this moment, giving herself to him.

He captures her lips hungrily, his hands roaming over her body with a sense of urgency. His fingers brush against the swell of her breast, causing her to gasp and arch towards him. Seungwan's heart races as his mouth moves down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in its wake. She can feel herself growing wet with desire as he inches closer to her chest, his warm breath sending shivers down her body.

Suddenly, his mouth is on one of her breasts, sucking lightly on a sensitive nub. She moans loudly, the sound echoing throughout the room. Her back arches, giving him more access to her succulent bosom as she trembles under his touch. His tongue swirls around her nipple while his fingers gently twist and pull on the other, driving her wild with pleasure. She is putty in his hands, lost in the sensations coursing through her body as he continues to worship every inch of her curves.

With a swift motion, he lifts Seungwan onto the middle of the bed, her body sinking into the soft sheets. The faint scent of vanilla lingers in the air as they embrace. He traces kisses along her stomach, causing her abs to tense and quiver under his touch. His strong hands unbutton her jeans in a skilled manner, pulling them down with ease as she raises her legs to help him. Her red lace panties cling tightly to her skin, revealing a damp spot at their center.

He moves down to her feet, peppering them with gentle kisses before trailing his lips up her legs. A shiver runs through her body as he reaches her inner thighs, his warm breath sending tingles to every nerve ending. She can't help but let out a small whimper as he presses against the fabric covering her core, feeling how wet and ready she is for him.

"Please," she begs with desperate longing in her voice, unable to wait any longer.

He quickly strips away the last remaining barrier between them, revealing Seungwan fully naked and vulnerable before him. She bites her finger nervously as she awaits his next move, anticipation building inside her.

Without a moment's hesitation, he dives in and begins his oral ministrations on her sensitive folds. Seungwan gasps loudly at the initial contact of his tongue and raises her hips to meet his eager mouth. His strong arms hold her down as he enthusiastically licks and kisses her, eliciting squirms and moans from Seungwan. She grabs the bed sheets tightly, her body responding intensely to his touch. He surprises her by sliding two fingers inside her tight warmth, causing Seungwan to clench around him and cry out in pleasure.

Feeling overwhelmed, Seungwan reaches out for his hand to help ground herself. But even with this distraction, she can't stop the overwhelming sensations building within her. With each flick of her clit, she gets closer and closer to the edge until, finally, she explodes in waves of ecstasy. He catches every drop of her release, some of it spilling onto his jaw as he hungrily laps up her juices. Her thighs grip him tightly, leaving marks with her nails digging into his hand, a pleasurable pain that only adds to their intense connection.

As Seungwan's body calms down, he continues to kiss and lick her folds for good measure. As he releases his hold on her, he moves up to kiss her body. Still riding the wave of pleasure from her orgasm, she shivers at every touch of his lips. When he reaches her face, she pulls him in for a passionate kiss, tasting herself on him and reveling in the intensity of their intimate moment together.

______________________________________________________________

"Your. Turn."

Seungwan's eyes glimmered with determination as she expressed her desire to return the favor. You eagerly lie down beside her, anticipation building in your chest as she shifts downwards towards your groin. Her hand deftly finds its way to your bulge, causing a moan to escape from your lips. Looking up at you for confirmation, Seungwan tugs on the hem of your pants. You give her a quick nod, allowing her to remove them, freeing your member from its confines. With practiced skill, she wraps her fingers around your shaft and begins to slowly pump, perfectly gauging just how much pressure and speed you like. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out deep groans and grunts as she expertly pleasures you.

"Babe, it feels… larger than last time…"

As she slips her tongue between her parted lips, Seungwan's eyes lock onto yours with a hungry intensity. You feel yourself getting stiffer as she traces delicate circles around your swollen head, her eager mouth lapping up the salty pre-cum that beads along the tip. She teases you with a soft kiss before engulfing your length in one smooth motion, sucking hard and sending electric shocks of pleasure through your entire body. The intense sensations make it difficult to catch your breath, and you can't help but moan as she works her magic on you. Your stomach clenches with every movement of her mouth, and the visual alone is enough to drive you wild, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy.

Your lover eagerly takes more of your length into her mouth, increasing the speed and intensity of her movements with each passing second. Her tongue swirls and dances around you, creating sparks of pleasure that shoot through your body. You grip her soft, silky hair tightly in your hands, using it as leverage to guide her movements and deepen the sensation. With each downward stroke, she takes you deeper and deeper, coaxing out moans of ecstasy from deep within you. The erotic display happening between your legs is a masterpiece of passion, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring you to the edge of bliss. Your hips involuntarily buck with each skilled motion, driving you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. And when she hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, it's all you can do to hold on as the sounds emanating from her mouth push you over the edge into pure ecstasy.

You feel the familiar tight sensation radiating from your abdomen. Not wanting to finish too soon, you gently hold Seungwan's head in place as she takes a break. When she pulls away, a spittrail is left between your member and her mouth. She resumes stroking you with one hand at a relaxed pace.

“Are you okay?” she asks, moving her hand slowly.

“You're going to drive me insane. That was incredible,” you manage to say.

Seungwan chuckles and kisses her way back up to your lips.“You make me crazy, too. I think I'm ready.”

You and Seungwan have been intimate multiple times before, but tonight feels different. It feels like a promise come true, the culmination of years of friendship turning into love, a reward for having faith in each other. It's a reminder that there could be many more nights like this. As your bodies join together, you are bonded in every sense.

She positions herself above you, aligning her core with your length.

"I love you, Seungwan."

"And I love you too."

Seungwan lowers herself onto you, and as she takes you deep inside her, a new level of tightness envelopes your senses. Her eyes roll back in ecstasy as she reaches for your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin to hold on. You guide her down from her waist, feeling every inch of her sliding against every inch of you.

She can barely speak through the intense pleasure. "Babe...you're so...fuck...bigger..."

"Wannie… you feel even tighter..." You instinctively grip her hips, trying to hold on to some sense of control amidst the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded by Seungwan's incredible tightness. She feels scorching hot, dripping wet, and tighter than ever before. It takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely. But as Seungwan sinks further onto you, pressing her body against yours with an unbreakable seal, you give in to the intense pleasure and pull her into a fierce kiss. Your shared breaths taste sweet as she hums against your lips, driving you both closer to ecstasy. With one final push, you are fully immersed inside Seungwan, lost in each other's embrace, until the world fades away into pure bliss.

After a brief moment of stillness, Seungwan leans back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She presses her hips against yours, moving in a slow and hypnotizing rhythm. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you moan and writhe in ecstasy. The bed squeaks and creaks beneath the intensity of your passion, the sounds blending with the loud slapping of skin against skin.

Your hands roam greedily over her body, exploring every curve and dip as she squirms under your touch. Seungwan's mouth falls open as she nears climax, her nails digging into your skin in pleasure. You pick up the pace, driving her closer to the edge with each thrust until she explodes in a frenzy of bliss. Her scream echoes through the room as her body trembles, and she collapses onto your chest. As she enters into her second orgasm of the night, she clings tightly to you while still trying to ride you to your own release.

You want to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, so you keep her in your arms. "Let me take charge," you whisper as you roll over and remain inside of her. Seungwan moans from the sudden change in position.

"Oh God, so deep."

You thrust into Seungwan, your pace quickening as you feel yourself surrendering to the intense desire to make love to her. She clings onto you with unbridled desperation, begging for more as she writhes beneath you in a frenzy of pleasure. You sink your teeth into her neck, leaving passionate red marks as she cries out in ecstasy. Her body shudders and quakes around you, signaling her impending release. Your movements become even more fervent, pushing deeper inside of her until your bodies are slick with sweat and burning with desire.

The pleasure intensifies, a warm sensation spreading throughout your entire being as you try to prolong this blissful moment. Seungwan's inner walls tighten around you, her legs wrapped tightly around your waist and pulling you closer.

In a final act of passion, she kisses you deeply as both of you reach the peak together. Your body tenses with ecstasy as you release everything inside her, marking her as yours forever. Waves of pleasure ripple through you as Seungwan's walls milk every last bit out of you, leaving her filled to the brim. You stay connected for a while, not wanting to collapse on top of her. When the throbbing finally subsides, you roll off to the side and feel the aftermath dripping onto your legs.

The weight of the experience leaves you drained and weary, but you still manage to pull the soft blanket over the two of you, pulling Seungwan into your embrace. Her body conforms perfectly against yours as she rolls to your side, her lips pressing gently against your cheek in a sweet gesture. You can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, soothing any lingering tension or discomfort. In return, you kiss her forehead before finally succumbing to exhaustion and closing your eyes. The peaceful moment envelops both of you like a warm cocoon, protecting you from the outside world and its worries.

______________________________________________________________

A trickle of light passes through the blinds. It’s been ages since an alarm clock wasn’t necessary to start the day.

You also can’t remember the last time you felt this body ache. Every external sensation feels like a sledgehammer, pulverizing your skull as your eyes barely open. Awareness slowly kicks in, and you start remembering the events of last night.

You attempt to sit up in bed, but a weight prevents you from doing so. In your arms is the person you love, fast asleep and looking peaceful. She stirs awake and gives you a small smile. It feels surreal, but her lips on yours confirm that it's all real—she is here with you in this moment.

"Good morning, Wannie."

"Good morning, last night was...indescribably perfect."

Perhaps this is just a part of life's journey. You meet someone and fall deeply in love, and suddenly, nothing seems too daunting or frightening anymore; every day is full of endless possibilities. Maybe we needed to go through rough patches to be stronger and more beautiful on the other side. Love can be found in the most unexpected places, shining bright even in the darkest moments. And Seungwan is proof that all of this exists, bringing light into even the bleakest situations.

"So, what's the next adventure planned for today?"

Well, it really has been a minute.

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for reaching the end of "Rekindle." If you haven't read "Ignite" yet, no worries! I designed this fic to stand on its own (though please give my debut fic a read! I love that baby so much).

It's not easy for me to say this, so I'll be straightforward: this marks the end of my writing journey.

Two years ago, I posted "Ignite" inspired by countless fan fics I had read. It was my way of expressing myself—a little bit of escapism. I needed to channel all the pent-up energy. I made wonderful friends, built confidence, got a plethora of new skills. But like any writer, I faced a lotttt of doubts and grappled with lotttsssss unfinished drafts. My writing consistency waned as mental health struggles took their toll.

I needed a break, especially because I needed to focus up on my actual life out there. I had been living too fast, too pressured. And the break did wonders to my life. As my mental health improved, so did various aspects of my life. I felt compelled to write one last fic, but only really felt ready to do one last fic. I think it was fitting I started and ended with the idol that drew me into k-pop! Sadly, my time to write is running out due to a new chapter in my life—I've landed my dream job!

I'm immensely grateful for this incredible journey as a writer. This journey made me discover a side I never thought I could do. I am confident in my writing and expressing myself in writing and in person. I owe my growth to the many friends I met here. This fic is dedicated to everyone I met, talked, and made wonderful memories with!

It's been an awfully beautiful adventure, and in the next life, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Thank you for two years of writing and unwavering support!

#kpop smut #smut #red velvet wendy #wendy red velvet #male reader #red velvet smut

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shixcherie · 4 months ago

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Sweet Candid Saturdays | Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 05 : Cum Play, Overstimulation

↬ [ Synopsis ] : Associating with Wooyoung was bad news, you knew that clearly. But after experiencing the magic his fingers could work inside you, you couldn't help but want more. So, you decided to step into Wooyoung’s world, unaware of the scandals that were about to follow.

Word Count : 2.2k Genre : Smut, Angst, Photographer Au,Non-idol au. Pairing : Photographer! Wooyoung x Model! F.Reader

WARNINGS : Pure smut(18+) , Pls follow the day number before each part they guide the sequence of the scenes, heavy angst, playful and flirty banter, fingering ( fem.recieving ), overstimulation, cum play, media scandal (a lil bit),bold and flirty wooyoung, couch makeout, they makeout in Wooyoung's studio,cum eating, reader has a bulge kink?.

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 05 is here ma chéries, and here we are with Wooyoung again. Tried a new format, enjoyed it a lot. Hope you guys enjoy it too.

14 days after first meeting Wooyoung, Saturday, 11:30 AM, outside your apartment

Fireworks ignited deep in your belly as Wooyoung’s thick fingers stretched you in the most delicious way, teasingly rubbing while your soaked core begged for more. “Do I need to know your name to do this, baby?” he taunts, his voice dripping with control, fully aware of how your body melts under his touch.

“Mhmm… Wooyoung, ahh… please, more.” you beg, desperation dripping from your voice, a taunting proof of how much you need him.

Suddenly, you’re pulled out of your trance by the sound of camera flashes, chaotic reporters, and crazy fans yelling at you. A hot feeling rush all over your whole being as you remember those initimate moments, 7 days ago at Wooyoung's studio.

That is THE WOOYOUNG EFFECT!

How did you, The Vogue’s top model, end up in a leaked photo scandal like this? Nevermind, let’s get yelled at first, shall we?

"Miss L/n, what do you have to say about the intimate pictures of you and Jung Wooyoung that got leaked?"

"Are you two dating? Y/n, are you dating Wooyoung?"

"Y/n, how long have you two been seeing each other? Why were you so close in those photos?"

Your bodyguards usher you forward, blocking the crowd as best they can, but the questions keep flying. Then, the crazy fans start yelling at you.

"Are you cheating on Joshua? Y/n, answer! Why are you breaking our sweet boy’s heart, you crazy witch?"

"You’re a model, so just be a model. Don’t be a fucking troublemaker, breaking innocent hearts like Joshua’s!"

These are just a few of the false accusations and ridiculous questions thrown at you by the paparazzi and the fans as you leave your home for your fittings. You decide to ignore them,they mean nothing. Wooyoung means nothing. It was just a one-time thing.

Just a one-night stand.

Just one photography session. A steamy one at that.

Just one guilty indulgence.

You knew that notorious photographer was bad news, scandalous even, yet you still decided to have a taste of Wooyoung’s world. Wooyoung... he was supposed to be just an acquaintance, but he became more than that.

It all started with those candid Saturdays. Sweet, even, if I may add.

"I am just a model, so let me be," you think to yourself.

Sweet Candid Saturdays that fucked it all up.

First time meeting wooyoung, Saturday, 05:45 PM, The Lourve ~ Paris.

"Congratulations, Joshua. I’m so proud of you." you say, hugging him to congratulate him on his biggest gallery event yet in his career as a photographer and art gallery owner.

"Thanks, Y/n. I’m so happy you could make it," he replies, hugging you back. "But without you being a part of my Diamonds of the Night photo collection, I don’t think this would have been such a big hit. Thank you so much." he adds sincerely, kissing your cheek.

A small crowd starts forming around Joshua, him being the man of the hour. You smile and excuse yourself, wandering off to explore the artworks Joshua has collected over the years.

As you walk, your eyes land on a series of your pictures, part of his Diamonds of the Night collection and your first-ever photoshoot with him. Honestly, you enjoyed the whole shoot, funny and sweet memories play like a movie reel in your mind as you admire yourself.

But you’re not the only one admiring your pictures.

Jung Wooyoung, the man, the photographer, the legend, stands behind you, taking a closer look at not only the art but also the model, you.

Wooyoung steps closer, his eyes drifting between the photos and you, a slow smile spreading across his face as he drinks in your beauty from head to toe. "It’s funny... The camera caught your looks, but it totally missed the spark. Up close? You’re absolutely dazzling."

"So, you’re saying I’m even better in person?" you ask, playful amusement in your eyes.

No doubt, Wooyoung is breathtakingly handsome. There’s a reason people go crazy for him and beg for his public appearances, even though he only makes one big appearance each year with his works. Millions of fans admire this man, he’s the art itself, loved by many for both his presence and his craft.

Standing up close, you now understand how people feel in Wooyoung’s presence - strong yet alluring and devilishly sexy. He has a pull to him, and people are attracted to him like iron to magnets, like moths to a flame.

"Oh, for sure. Those photos seem like a sneak peek. In person? You’re a whole vibe." he exclaims, pulling you out of your trance, having lost yourself in him for a few seconds. His gaze lingers on you, unapologetic.

You smirk, intrigued. "You always this bold with people you just met?"

He steps in closer, his voice low, intimate. "Only when they catch my attention like you do. Seems I have a weakness for... striking things."

"You must love walking on thin ice." you say, tilting your head, eyes narrowing playfully.

"I don’t mind a little danger, especially when it’s this tempting," he replies, taking a step closer and grabbing your hand, guiding you down the halls of the gallery, swiftly passing through the crowds as he leads you along.

"Tempting? You don’t even know my name." you say as you both weave through the people.

Where is he taking me?

Halting at the first room his eyes land on, he pulls you in, closing the door softly to ensure no one saw you both going in together.

"I don’t need your name to know I want more of this." he finally answers, standing behind you. His warm breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. His muscular yet soft hands snake around your waist, hugging you from behind and pulling your back into his chest. Your body eagerly reacts to his touch, goosebumps spread over your skin, and your heart beats so rapidly you think it might explode.

"And what exactly do you think you’re going to get?" you ask, your voice breathy from his mere touch as your head leans back against his shoulder.

His eyes darken, his voice barely a whisper. "Whatever you’re willing to give."

And just when you think the situation couldn’t get any more intense, his right hand travels south, making use of the cut of your dress at your waist, reaching your lacy underwear.

To no one's surprise, you’re wet as hell. Wooyoung chuckles, you can almost imagine the smug look on his face, irritating yet mouthwateringly attractive, a turn-on you didn’t expect. His fingers waste no time, touching your clothed cunt, the wetness making it clear just how turned on you are. His middle finger adds to the arousal as it rubs intensely, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Fuck… oh… my… god." a pretty moan escapes your lips, fueling his excitement. His fingers skillfully slip past the lacy fabric, now in direct contact with your dripping cunt. Without warning, he slips two digits inside you, slowly moving back and forth as he stretches you delicioulsy with feverish passion. Your entire body trembles with the trembles coursing through your body.

"Guess someone’s enjoying my company a little too much." he says mockingly as his pace quickens. With your lips caught between your teeth and your knees going weak, you try your hardest not to give in to this pleasure,not to give in to him.

But your body and mouth always betray you just when you need them to obey the most. A needy whimper escapes your lips. "Faster… please, Wooyoung, don’t stop." you urge, urgency lacing your voice as the pressure builds up, ready to crash at any moment.

His movements stop; his fingers halt as he pulls out of you completely. A loud whimper leaves your lips, being deprived of your release is torturous. You twist toward him in an attempt to protest but come face-to-face with his fingers. His fingers, dripping with your slick, act as a barrier between your lips and his as you both taste your essence.

"I know your name, Y/n. I’ve had my eyes on you for a while." he smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "See you at my studio very soon." With that, he turns to leave, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, stunned and unsure what to make of this whole ordeal.

Just as he’s about to open the door, he turns his head toward you. "Got sexy boobs. It took everything in me not to touch and play with them." he winks before stepping out and softly closing the door behind him.

A scoff leaves your lips as you look down at your chest. A thin paper, a card, sits there. This motherfucker! ,who puts their business card in someone’s cleavage?

7 days after first meeting Wooyoung , Next Week, Saturday. 7:30 PM, Midnight Muse aka. Wooyoung’s studio cum art gallery

After contemplating, refusing, and going to war against yourself, you find yourself here, in front of his studio on a dark Saturday night. Entering now guarantees moments of sweet yet candid experiences of pleasure and thrill. But he deprived you of a release; it was painful yet left you wanting more.

Eager for a taste of his world, surrendering to your lusty desires and an aching core, you push through the front door.

Why is it so empty? Yes, it is a Saturday, but there isn’t a single soul in this building. Is it even the correct location?

You walk through the thin corridor, which opens to a huge studio space, with different setups for different purposes occupying their own corners. The walls are decorated with a billion frames, all from his previous collection, and almost thirty cameras are placed at different locations in the room, capturing every single angle, every single frame. Plants, luxury furniture, and ceiling decor elevate the space, adding to that vintage romantic look, a place where muses make love at midnight, so sultry and inviting.

To say you are in awe would be an understatement. Being photographed in such a breathtakingly gorgeous and aesthetic studio would be any model’s dream.

A specific setup catches your eye, a vintage-looking couch placed at the center with no light source other than candles. Roses surround the couch, adding to its glory, and a sweet musk scent lingers in the air, heightening all your sensations.

An image of doing wild things on that couch with Wooyoung runs through your mind.

“So, my muse finally found her way to my studio.” Wooyoung’s voice catches your attention as you shake off the filthy thoughts and turn around to look at him. Your breath hitches at the sight in front of you.

Wooyoung is clad in a red silk shirt, with the top three buttons left intentionally open, revealing his sexy chest, and silk pants adorning his legs—tight enough in all the right spots where eyes wander the most: his crotch. His clothed bulge is evident in those tight pants.

Your mouth waters at the sight before you, and no words leave your lips. You simply nod, the words “my muse” still ringing in your ears.

Wooyoung smiles, figuring you out and your situation in mere seconds with just one look at you. “I have a dress for you in the changing room, baby. Why don’t you get changed, and we can take a few pictures on that setup?” he says, pointing to the rose-covered vintage couch. “My beautiful muse seems to have taken quite a liking to it,” he adds, a sexy smirk plastered on his lips.

Are you really this easy to read? Or is it just with Wooyoung?

This all somehow feels like a well-crafted and thoroughly set-up plan, making you even more excited in anticipation of what’s coming next.

Wooyoung clicks a few pictures of you as you lay on the couch, asking you to change poses after every few shots. He skillfully guides you into different poses, capturing your beautiful figure like a precious art piece.

For the next few pictures, he wants your hair styled in a certain way, so he makes his way toward you to set it himself. The close proximity quickens your pulse with urgency and excitement. The warmth radiating from his body, his exposed chest, inviting lips just inches from you, and his bulge all contribute to the arousal pooling at your core, leaving you dripping wet.

He sneaks glances at your lips in between fixing your hair, and as his fingers brush against your neck, a needy and sudden moan escapes your lips.

“Wooyoung… I need you,” you beg, urgency lacing your voice, your dripping core demanding his attention as your hands cup his bulge, rubbing his clothed dick. Your touch ignites his body on fire, and a groan escapes his lips. “I was just waiting for you to ask, baby.”

With that, he settles on top of you, capturing your lips as an animalistic hunger takes over. The kiss is messy and frantic, his tongue slipping past your lips, eagerly drinking in the pretty moans that escape your mouth. His hands work their way down your body, finishing the half-finished job.

When his fingers make contact with your slick, dripping core, a smirk spreads across his face as he continues to kiss you. Rubbing your wetness, he slips his fingers inside you, gliding in and out with a perfect rhythm. Each movement satisfies your throbbing core, while also pushing you to the edge of overstimulation.

He collects your slick on his fingers, breaking the kiss and slowly standing up. Bringing his fingers to your lips, he makes you taste your own juices. The flavor sends you spiraling, and you come hard, your eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure crash over you, wetness covering your inner thighs and the couch.

As you recover from your high, you find Wooyoung smiling at you—a genuine smile, not just a smirk. His eyes gaze upon you softly, full of warmth and affection. “Would this Vogue’s top model want to be my muse?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You feel giddy at the sight of his smile. With the intense, pleasure-inducing moments you both shared, you find it impossible to refuse his offer. “Yes, I’d love to,” you reply, a sweet smile gracing your lips.

You both lean in for a kiss, sealing the deal, unaware that your intimate moments are being captured by someone hidden nearby.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

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midnightwind · 4 days ago

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WIP Wednesday, I have a treat of Lucanis having to tell Viago that Rook is gone for you all (I shared a partial snippet of this a few days ago but this is a proper 2k or so words now) An excerpt from my fic Clipped Wings~

It felt like a blur, the whole world underwater as he passed through the Crossroads alone. Someone had to tell the Crows. He couldn't find a weak crack in the Fade, or craft a lyrium dagger, and he wasn't allowed to go to Minrathous to hunt Solas down. The flicker of Spite's anger burned in his chest, igniting his lungs with a fury they shared, but it had barely been a day. The others assured him there was still a chance to find her. He could hold a false hope for a few days before they realized it was pointless and let him loose. He could allow them that.

He barely registered stepping out of the mirror into the Diamond. It was busier, almost swarming with Crows working on either cleaning up after Ivenci or preparing to confront Elgar'nan. This had been her plan, after all, a gathering of them all to save the world. A grand showdown for her people to shine in. How she had glowed with the idea of the Crows being able to play heroes. What did it matter now, without her?

Teia spotted him first, a smile jumping to her lips, but it fled quickly when she realized he was alone. The world burned with her absence, a hollow at his side that she had filled for almost a year now. His heart ached. She grabbed Viago's arm, tearing him away from a scattered sea of documents on the table. Viago noticed it instantly, his eyes gliding over Lucanis to where she usually stood with her lopsided grin in greeting. He watched the man's chest hitch with a small, almost invisible twitch. The twin headed snakes of his cane were gripped so tightly in his hand that Lucanis wondered how the jade egg didn't crack.

Teia pushed them both into a side room, the procession silent. There was an agony to be shared, but not in the open. They were Talons and there was still a war to be fought. Better to do this behind closed doors. And maybe she was trying to put off the news that was settling like a stone in the core of her being. His breaths were beginning to waver, a shiver in his shoulders and a burn in his throat.

“Lucanis-” Teia began, a mix of hopeful comfort and pure despair in her voice.

Viago offered no such softness, cold and sharp as he cut her off. “Where is she?” Did the words shake, just a little? “Where is Mirenna?”

It felt like his tongue was made of clay, stuck to the roof of his mouth and thick. “She’s gone.” His voice was hoarse, a rasp that hadn't been present since the Ossuary back in his throat.

It was like he had plunged into the canals as the two words tore through the little room. Everything felt cold and distant, blood rushing through his ears. He was deaf to the world, drifting in the memory of that water, despairing. He barely registered Viago rushing him, the man’s gloved fist smashing into his jaw more like an afterthought. He let the strike carry him to the floor, almost numb to it. Spite thrashed behind his ribs like a bird in a cage, keening. He saw the cane rise up and for a moment he wondered if that familiar pain would be able to dislodge his sorrow. A childhood full of that sharp crack’s memory might be able to return the killer’s focus to him.

But Teia ripped it out of the Fifth Talon’s hand before he could swing. They were yelling, tears beginning to wet her cheeks as she tossed the cane aside. Viago settled for fisting his collar in hand and dragging him to his feet. His back was slammed against the wall, pinned as the man almost snarled. He wondered if he would register a knife slipping between his ribs like this, a sweet bite just to feel anything else.

“How?” Viago hissed.

“We killed Ghilan’nain,” He started, voice flat like he was reading a script. He'd been replaying the events all day, finding every second where he should have done better, been more. “and her death tore open the Fade. We were all thrown back. Mirenna screamed for me.” His voice hitched finally at that. “And then she was gone. Solas had taken her place. He had the dagger. Spite lunged for it. We were thrown back again. The Dread Wolf disappeared and Elgar’nan started a spell. The world burned.” His head thunked back against the wall.

“Is there a chance she’s…” Teia started.

He and Viago both had the same grim expression.

“The others think she's simply trapped in the Fade. They're trying to find her.” He offered blandly.

Viago’s grip tightened, knuckles pressing into his throat. “Why are you here?”

“Someone had to tell-”

He was yanked forward, their faces close now. “No, Lucanis, why are you here and not burying a hundred blades in that false god? Why have you not cut him to pieces and plucked the dagger from his corpse? Why did you come here instead of getting her back?”

Spite surged at the words, all fury and pain. He let the feelings wash over him like a wave. “They said to trust.” He licked his lips. “They said to wait.”

He staggered back into the wall as Viago let him go suddenly. “She told me to trust you.” The words shook this time. “Look how that worked out.”

That was a sharper pain than any knife to the heart could cause. He pulled in a shivering breath. “The others will spend some time trying to find a way to break into a prison made for gods, but the plan otherwise is the same. We’ll need to assault Minrathous to reach Solas and Elgar’nan. The Crows will be ready?”

Viago scoffed, busying himself with retrieving his cane. “Of course.”

“We’ll send a few teams to the city in the meantime, see if we can sneak between the cracks.” Teia offered up, her voice oddly steady. “Was… How’s the team, otherwise?”

That felt like two quick quick stabs to the gut. He closed his eyes. “We lost Neve to Elgar’nan. He might be keeping her alive, but…” He swallowed thickly. “We won’t know until the siege, I suppose.”

No salt and ink. Cold and clever. Sharp words and biting laughs. Spite sounded almost inconsolable.

“And when we reached Ghilan’nain,” Lucanis continued after a breath, “Harding gave her life to give me an opening.”

He could still see her gritting her teeth as the elven monster attacked her, every arrow flying true despite her arms shaking. He could still hear each tentacle strike her, lifting her from her feet before tossing her aside. They hadn’t been able to go back for her body, but Elgar’nan had given her the pyre for them in a way. If only they had been able to retrieve her ashes to send home.

They took. Jam and stone. Dirt and leaves. Sweet grins and tender thoughts.

He barely felt Teia’s consoling hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Lucanis.”

“Which ones are currently being useful?” Viago’s biting voice sounded oddly far away.

“Vi.” Teia almost snarled.

Lucanis huffed briefly, the ghost of a laugh in his lungs. “Emmrich and Bellara have busied themselves with finding every book and tome the Lighthouse has on the Fade. Taash is mourning with their Lords. Davrin is meeting up with the remaining Wardens to discuss how the Blight has been changing since Ghilan’nain’s fall.” And I’m here, unable to do anything.

“The mages are working on it.” Viago was quiet, almost thoughtful before his cane cracked against the floor. “You will wait here, First Talon. I have something they may find useful.”

He was content to lean listlessly against the wall, but Teia guided him into a plush armchair. So he sat morosely in the room instead, the Seventh Talon disappearing a moment later. That was fine, he wasn’t ever truly alone now and she couldn’t offer him the company he so desperately wanted. No one could anymore. Spite was a heavy weight on his chest, pressing down like he was a serpent coiled around his ribs. He rested his face in his hands as he hunched forward in the chair, his breaths labored and shivering. He had never been good with grief.

When his family had been slaughtered, Caterina had given him his Crow training as a distraction and he had thrown himself into that. When he believed Caterina was dead, Rook had given him a contract to focus on. Now Rook was gone and he had nothing to work with. His targets were out of reach, he wasn’t needed in Treviso to prepare the Crows, and he could do nothing to even try to find her. He was simply left to wallow in the agony. What was he supposed to do?

Find Rook! Miss her. Miss the sweet smell. Red berries and jasmine. Storms and knives. We miss her laugh. Her smile. Hair like blood. Skin like sun. Eyes like ocean.

A strangled noise escaped him, his voice broken. “Spite, please.”

Something warm tapped his forehead and he looked up with bleary eyes to see Teia offering him a steaming mug. The smell of coffee filled the room. She gave him a sad smile as he wrapped his hands around the cup, cradling it between his knees as he stared down at the dark liquid. He couldn’t bring himself to actually drink it, but it was almost a small comfort to hold. It was dredging up too many late nights and early mornings lounging on the couches in the dining room with Rook as she tried to make him laugh with a story of a botched job or complained about her latest visit to Viago. Too many memories of talking shop with her, discussing the hilarious rumors about Crows that Taash shared with them, swapping book recommendations. The bitter twinge of sitting in Cafe Pietro when they were still new to knowing each other and making that awful comment about a kiss goodbye. What a cruel joke from the universe.

The coffee went from a searing heat to a mildly scalding warmth in his hands by the time Viago returned. He had a box of finely crafted dark wood clutched in one hand and as he brought it closer it caused Spite to hiss. The familiar itch of blood magic was ever so faintly causing his eyes to itch and he sat bolt upright in his chair to stare at the Fifth Talon. What in the world was in that box? He half expected Viago to thrust it into his hands and dismiss him, but the Talon merely paused a few steps away as if waiting. Lucanis wasn’t sure what the man wanted.

Viago scowled as the silence stretched, his hand gripping his cane so tight they could hear the leather of his gloves squeak. “You’re going to take me to your Lighthouse so I can get my Crow back. Now get up.”

He simply blinked up at his fellow assassin, disbelief plain. “You…” Words failed him for a long minute. “What exactly are you asking me to escort into the Fade?”

“You are escorting me. I am bringing something that can actually find Renn.” Viago hissed, words caustic. “Move, Dellamorte.”

He shook his head, finally shaking his thoughts free. “Viago, you’re needed here, planning. I can make sure Emmrich and Bellara get whatever is in that box.”

“I trusted you with Renn and you lost her. I refuse to trust you with the one thing that could bring her back.” The twin snakes of the cane were suddenly leveled at his face. “So I will say this one last time: move, Dellamorte.”

How was he supposed to argue with that? By all accounts, Viago was right. Silently, he abandoned his untouched coffee on a table and stood slowly. There was an ache in him and Spite was still recoiling at whatever Viago held. But the man was stubborn, it was where Rook had learned it, and he would spend the rest of the day in this backroom uselessly questioning the contents. So instead he led the Talon to the mirror. He waited on the other side of it much like Rook had that fateful day they had met. It was a far less passionate affair between the two Crows this time. Viago did not have any hesitation in his steps, a steel in his gaze that was sharper than any knife either of them held. He had a purpose and all Lucanis had was a path to lead him on. They passed through the little market without a single glance at the queer spirits still minding stalls. The Caretaker only drew a single cautious look over before Viago was settling in the boat after Lucanis.

When they finally passed through the large eluvian leading into the Lighthouse, Lucanis felt like he was a puppet whose strings were slowly being cut one by one. He was so tired. Whatever Viago was bringing was just another false hope, wasn’t it? A desperate ploy to try to stave off the bitter truth that she was gone. But who was he to deny the man one last hope? So he led him up the curved stairway and into the utter chaos that the library had become. Books were strewn everywhere, loose papers scrawled with notes and spilled ink scattered among the tomes. Whatever queer devices that existed in the Lighthouse that were deemed potentially useful had been drug out into the open space, Bellara and Emmrich bringing in their own machines to add to the mess. There were so many empty cups of tea and coffee dotting whatever open space existed near the two mages, a few partially empty plates alongside them. The duo were in the middle of some frantic debate, their hands gesturing madly at half finished diagrams or waving a thick book. They both paused as Viago cleared his throat sharply.

“Well, glad to see there is at least an attempt at finding my Crow.” He half growled, the attempt to remain poised and civil failing at the sheer rage of her absence.

“Fifth Talon,” Emmrich almost stuttered, the note of surprise bright in his voice, “we weren’t expecting such esteemed company. Ah, apologies for the mess-”

“I do not care about the state of your base.” He cut him off bluntly. “Have you made any progress finding Mirenna?”

“Oh, well, yes and no.” Bellara started, digging in a pile of papers. “We have some ideas and there are traces of the specific part of the Fade she’s trapped in lingering. Especially on the island. Since Solas effectively cut off a chunk of the Fade, it looks and behaves differently from the rest of it-”

“So that is a no.” Viago clipped, his cane rapping once on the floor. “I come bearing something that should speed things up, Maker willing.” The box made a quiet clicking sound as he set it on the table, his fingers pressed to the lid. “The only thing more important to me than the contents of this box is Mirenna herself. Do not lose it as casually as you lost her, but if you must destroy it to find her, so be it.”

The Fifth Talon openly admitting how much Rook meant to him almost stunned Lucanis. The man was never so candid. Usually at this point he had locked himself back in the pantry to wait for news of either their success or their blessing for him to leave. This time he quietly collapsed on the couch to watch. The Talon’s barb had made both mages flinch, but they simply waited as the man finally opened the box. A small vial glinted out, silvered wings wrapped around the glass and ruby red liquid shining inside. Spite howled and Lucanis dug his fingers into the plush cushion of the couch. It was a phylactery. It was Rook’s phylactery. Of course one would exist, she was a mage. Of course Viago would have it, she was his mage. Of course.

“I trust between the two of you, the ritual that allows it to track her is understood? Or must I supply that as well?” Viago’s voice was pure ice.

“We will manage.” Emmrich murmured.

“Good.” The Talon took a single step back from the phylactery. “Find her or House de Riva will hunt you to the ends of the world, elven gods be damned.” And then he was turning to leave, Lucanis almost scrambling back to his feet to show him back to Treviso before the end of the cane snapped against his chest. “I can find my own way back. Perhaps you should find a way to be useful here.”

Spite snarled at the words, but he pushed the anger down. “The Caretaker can help, if you do get lost.”

All that earned him was a quiet scoff before Viago disappeared into the shadows of the stairs and was gone.

#jazz hands because this idea continues in at least one other scene teehee #I am finding that I actually have a lot more fun writing Lucanis and Renn thinking about each other #and not actually interacting LMAO #it's the Pining or something #anyways! properly angry and upset Viago is a joy to write truly thriving with this section #my writing #WIP #Lucanis #Lucanis Dellamorte #Viago #Viago de Riva #Teia #Teia Cantori #I'm gonna not tag my two mage goobers because they have a brief moment and I already feel like I'm baiting with the Teia tag #DAV Posting #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Veilguard #DAV #Rookanis

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s0ft-d3cay · 13 days ago

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Smokey Horizon

Viktor x Male Reader | I couldn't get the idea of Viktor smoking out of my head, I need this man to shotgun a hit to me IMMEDIATELY. All that aside, low-key I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you all enjoy it as well!!

Warnings: smoking, sharing cigarettes, lots of longing(intimately), teasing(as always)

WC: 1,019

The contrast of Piltover’s bright marble white's, gray's, and golden outlines were muted in shadows. White smoke dancing and caressing Y/N at every exhale, utterly content in the small hidden area, leaned against pristine bricks within the dimmed alleyway. Eyes focused towards his own fingers and cigarette, flickering towards the opposite wall in deep thought. Gazing deep pools of secluded space and secrets soon pinpoint Viktor from a distance, a modest smirk appears as he nods the scientist over. His thoughts washed away as a friendly fond expression soften over his features.

"You’re late." He spoke, fishing out his pack. A single roll of hand wrapped cigarettes, offered up. Always the same with Y/N, the soft warm spot the Viktor engraved with his stare and wit. His mere presence setting the mood between the two, be it playful, serious, or even flirty. Much of their past exchanges were quiet, a buzzing pause filled with surrendering serenity.

Even with the occasional small talk that bubbles from Viktor’s brilliant mind, what used to be mumbled calculations morphed to soothing rambles and incoherent scientific explanations. And it later became a secret crave for Y/N to hear. What was then hard to follow theories evolve to anticipated updates, some of which Y/N would add his own feedback and ideas to. Watchful of the mist reaching from his lips, the way his hands expressed along with his words, hypnotized.

"I don’t remember our arrangement being a timely one. When did that change?" Viktor replies, golden gaze burning with every glance. His slender fingers grasping the cigarette, placing it with careful precision. Y/N then swaps out the box for his lighter, holding it up with a click, igniting the flame. "Since your work days became longer." He answers with a false pout, his teeth chewing his lip to keep from grinning. Enthralled in the way the man leaned toward the lit flame, the concentrated scrunch of his brows as the honey embers ignited.

He only then flips the lighter closed, once Viktor pulls away. Taking in his own long hit. Allowing the dense substance entering his lungs to settle, body numbing from the inside out. "I told you, I would be busy for the foreseeable future." The scientist reminded, words almost lost to Y/N, too focused on not staring at the other’s lips. Or how his expression softened, lines of stress and worry dwindling. Taking another hit as he muffled out a chuckle, attempting to mask his heart flutter.

Y/N nods, "Must've slipped my mind. Sounds like I'm starting to become a distraction." That subtle pull of a small grin caught Y/N's stare and heart in a shared hiccup. Shifting his attention down towards his cigarette with forced will, thumb fiddling with the end. Suppressing the embarrassed flush threatening below his skin, warming beneath the surface.

Vision cleared even with the smokey after, golden sun cascading through rays of amber geomagnetic shapes. Radiant in familiar hazy embers, "You’re distracting has a tendency of the opposite affect, I’m afraid." Viktor thoughtfully countered. A canvas usually hollowed and focus elsewhere, now intrigued with Y/N. Fostering the movements of his hand, each rhythmic sway followed by a line of puppeteer-ed gray strings, billowing aside.

Y/N nodded again, his attention split on Viktor's tone and words. Each somehow different from one another. He hums out a soft breath, pushing off the opposite wall, breaking the toed line between them. Resting beside the scientist, their shoulders barely brushing. "At least you're taking a break." A hint of relief tailing the words, affectionate. Lingering in the silence awhile longer, lying to himself through his own word choice, shoving the ever-growing affection elsewhere. Stubbing out the leftover ember, twisting and tapping it before tossing the end deeper within the alley.

Strings of smoke now surrounding the two within imperfect loops, "I could use a distraction like you." He states, a soft rumbled chuckle ricocheted after, the half smoked cigarette moved towards Y/N. A silent offer, cold fingers barely brushed warm lips as he gently took it between his lips. Heated gaze of honeyed hazel flickered over Y/N, an expression he himself had made prior. Openly staring, heightened, and too close of their closing proximity.

Pinpricks of shivers and a looming pull surges between them. Body warmth being shared, their shoulders now pressed along to their arms. Side by side, the two man were somewhat the same height but now. With Y/N leaning lower against the wall, Viktor towered over him in mere inches. Pulling away from the cigarette, lungs beginning to strain around the held smoke. Warming his ever-heating chest, a furnace resistance of coal, of allowing his desire to truly flourish.

Each second passing consumed Y/N, the chance to be so close to Viktor. So, intimate with the normally reserved man. One who played at a distance, one who’d test the waters before tempting the other closer. Daring for Y/N to cross the line. "...you should get going." Y/N whispers, stray wisps of gray smoke falling from his mouth. He briefly turned his head to exhale the rest, swallowing his excitement in what could've been.

His gaze reconnects with Viktor’s, breath stuttering, remaining in place. His body staying pressed to the brick. Still inches away…a small step and head tilt. "Hm, perhaps." He utters softly, a hint of reluctance paired along. Y/N chuckles, snatching the cigarette. Rolling the paper between his fingers, shifting to fully face him. Head resting on the wall as he looks up towards the other.

"You're lingering, genius." The man teases. The light of sunset falling over the corners, the line of light now cascading over them in shadowy concealment. Setting a physical change in within their dynamic, "You don't seem to mind when I do, linger that is." Viktor returned, seemingly ignoring the other's press to leave. Not, that that was a bad thing by any means. Y/N felt his lips pull, his heart pounding devotion embedding its spread through his chest. Higher than any cigarette could give him, that tender kindness of puppy love. Indulging himself in his own mirrored lingering.

"And you don't either."

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

#seraphimsbrainwritings #male reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #x male reader #x reader #x you #x y/n #reader insert #viktor fanfic #viktor arcane #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #viktor x male reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader

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aspionagee · 2 months ago

Note

First off-- I'm a HUGE fan of your writing, you have no idea how stoked I am for the next installment of A Patchwork Family. I was never a fan of severitus before I came across your fic by chance but your writing is so good it turned me onto it.

I was wondering if you had any severitus fic recs? I saw you post something about crime and punishment and gave that one a read (SO good), and since it seems you have incredible taste to go along with your incredible writing skills I was hoping you could help me out 💚

Thank you very much for the question! I actually have a ton of fic recs for Severitus, and I've been meaning to make a list for a while, so in no particular order here it is!

1. A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight

This fic is also very special to me, and directly inspired A Patchwork Family. Snape ends up adopting Harry and Draco during their sixth year. It was written before the sixth and seventh books even came out, so there's a very fascinating plot!

2. To Trust by Clairdeloon

This one has a runaway Harry being sent to live with Snape after the Dursleys die before his first year. If you like angst this is the one to go for; it hurts so much but it's so worth it.

3. Time Left Today by gzdacs

After the situation with Quirrell, Harry is wanted by the Ministry for questioning. Snape is forced to transport him across Europe to hide him (with things progressively going more and more wrong!). Very enjoyable fic

4. Tension's Empathy: The Wanderers Curse by yarrowmirth

Another "Harry and Snape on the run" one, set after fifth year. I particularly enjoy how long it takes Snape and Harry to warm up to each other! It's also criminally underrated. I check so often for updates you have no idea

5. Grease & Lightning by Mothboss

Would highly recommend this and its sequel, Acid Reigns. Features Snape semi-accidentally acquiring eight-year-old Harry(with some of the best, age-accurate writing of a child I've ever seen). He takes on a protective big brother role and it's so perfect! Acid Reigns also uploads every Tuesday without fail, which I always look forward to

6. obscured by illisius

A recent fic discovery for me, where Obscurial Harry is sorted into Slytherin and Snape has to help him. I am rarely in this much pain when reading a fic, oh my god. The ANGST. It's just so perfect, and I'm so excited to see what's coming next for the universe!

7. The Potions Master and his Golden Boy by HazelEyes25

If you like your Severitus slowburn, this is the one. During Harry's second year, Snape slowly goes from Harry's mentor figure to guardian. It's full of lots of nice hurt/comfort!

8. aim & ignite by shostakobitch

The only biological father Severitus on this list, and HEAR ME OUT! Because if Snape turned out to be Harry's biological parent, this is EXACTLY how it would have gone down. Snape is perfectly canon; he is the horrible, snarky and cruel man from book canon even as he learns how to be a caring man to his child. Such a hard balance to strike, but it is done PERFECTLY. It also features Girl!Harry which I very rarely see in Severitus. With the beautiful prose thrown in on top, all I can do is beg you all to give this a go! So worth a read!!

9. O Mine Enemy by KirbyLane

This is a classic! I've not read it in a while and it's next on my reread list. Again, very good characterisation. Both Harry and Severus feel very human. Takes place during fifth year, and switches up canon a bit which I always like!

10. Crime and Punishment by Melolcatsi

Just in case anyone else didn't see the Crime and Punishment rec, I want to still put it here. This is one of the first Severitus fics I ever read, and it's so very special to me! Harry gets sent to live with Snape in the summer after fourth year when he is falsely accused of stealing. Snape's characterisation in particular is stunning

I could keep rambling on for hours, but this is essentially my top ten! I hope you all enjoy!

#Severitus #fic recs #ao3

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yourlovelywriter · 1 month ago

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💋Undeniable desire 💋

For the gays! guys go away! I don’t even know guys…. She’s so hot. If the pov changes sorry I’m sleepy.

Sevika and reader have been “flirting” for a while, sevika cares for reader more than she wants to admit…

-jealousy, tying people up?, sesbian lex, very nice use of mechanical arm… nsfw. Broken bed.

A The air in the brothel was thick with smoke and murmured promises, but none of it mattered to Sevika. Her eyes cut through the dim light, her focus singular. She had no patience for the games tonight, no interest in the false smiles thrown her way. She wanted you.

And when she finally saw you, leaning against the bar, your body draped in silks that teased more than they hid, it was like a spark igniting something primal in her. You were laughing at some fool’s attempt at charm, your lips curved into a smile that Sevika knew wasn’t for him.

She stalked toward you, her heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. You noticed her before she spoke, your gaze locking with hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

“Sevika,” you greeted, your voice soft but knowing. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Her jaw tightened. “Come with me.”

Your eyebrows lifted in playful surprise, but the heat in her gaze left no room for argument. Without waiting for a response, she reached out, her metal fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firm but careful grip.

“Sevika, what’s the rush?” you teased, letting her guide you through the crowded room.

She didn’t answer, her silence saying more than words could.

The door to your room closed with a quiet click, shutting out the noise of the brothel. You turned to face her, amusement dancing in your eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t.” Her voice was low, rough, almost a growl. “I don’t want to talk.”

You blinked, surprised by the raw intensity in her tone. But before you could respond, Sevika was on you, her hands gripping your waist as she pulled you flush against her.

Her lips crashed against yours, all teeth and heat, a fire that burned away any pretense. There was no softness, no hesitation—just need, sharp and undeniable.

You gasped against her mouth, your fingers tangling in the fabric of her coat. “Sevika—”

“Shut up,” she muttered, her voice thick with desire. Her hands roamed your body, one rough and calloused, the other cold and unyielding, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You let her take control, her presence consuming you. She backed you against the wall, her lips moving to your neck, your collarbone, her teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she admitted, her breath hot against your skin. “Every damn time I close my eyes, it’s you. Always you.”

Her words were rough, almost angry, but the way her hands moved over your body betrayed something deeper—something desperate.

You smiled, your fingers threading through her hair. “If you wanted me this bad, all you had to do was ask.”

Sevika let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your throat. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you’re impatient.”

Her response was to lift you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed with a strength that made your pulse race. She pinned you beneath her, her weight grounding you as her lips found yours again. This kiss was different—slower, but no less intense, as if she was savoring every second.

“Tell me you’re mine,” she demanded, her voice a low rasp.

“Sevika…”

“Say it.” Her hand gripped your thigh, her mechanical fingers pressing hard enough to leave a mark.

“I’m yours,” you breathed, your voice trembling under her gaze.

Her lips curved into a smirk, satisfaction flickering in her eyes. “Damn right you are.” Sevika hissed, claiming the reader's mouth in a bruising kiss filled with dark hunger.

Sevika's hands roamed greedily over your curves, tearing at your clothing with impatient fingers. She needed to mark you, to remind everyone that this delicious morsel belonged solely to her.

With a swift twist, Sevika freed your breast from its confines, taking the pert nipple into her mouth and suckling hard.

"Yes, Sevika," you breathed, arching into her touch. "Only yours."

Emboldened by your submission, Sevika ripped away the remaining garments, exposing your naked form to her hungry gaze. She ran her hands over every inch of skin, mapping the contours of your body with reverent fingertips.

With a wicked smile, Sevika pushes you onto the plush bed, following closely behind. She straddles your waist, her dripping core pressing insistently against your thighs.

"Tell me how much you crave me," Sevika commanded, her voice a sultry purr. "How badly you need my touch, my kisses, my very essence inside you."

Your breath hitched, pulse racing at Sevika's dominant tone. "Please, Sevika," you begged, your voice thick with desire. "I ache for you, body and soul. Your touch ignites a fire within me that only you can quench."

Sevika's eyes glowed with triumph and lust. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath away. Her tongue delved deep, tangling with yours in a passionate dance.

Breaking the kiss, Sevika trailed her mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your tender skin. She worked her way down, pausing to lavish attention on each pert nipple before continuing her descent.

Sevika pushes against you and takes your waist in one hand while moving up with the other. With deliberate slowness, she wraps her fingers around your wrist, pinning them to the bedspread.

"Stay put, my pet," Sevika purred, her voice laced with dark promise. "I intend to claim every inch of you."

Your body trembled, both from fear and exhilaration. Sevika's grip was unyielding yet strangely arousing.

Sevika's free hand slide down your abdomen, fingers dipping into the warm, slick folds of your sex. A low moan escaped her lips as she felt your arousal coating her fingers.

Sevika's mechanical fingers plunged deep inside you, pumping in and out with ruthless precision. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins, your back arching off the bed in ecstasy.

"Yes, Sevika!" You cry out, your voice ragged with need. "More, please!"

Sevika obliged, increasing the pace of her mechanized strokes. The sound of her artificial limbs moving in tandem with your frantic breathing filled the room, creating a lewd symphony of desire.

Leaning over, Sevika captured your lips once more, swallowing your moans as she ravaged your mouth with wild abandon. Her free hand roamed your body, tweaking nipples, scratching down spines, leaving trails of fiery pleasure in its wake.

Sevika broke the kiss, her chest heaving with exertion. She gazed down at the reader, her emerald eyes blazing with primal hunger.

"Now, my sweet, it's time for the main event," she purred, her mechanical arm shifting to position the reader's hips higher.

With a fluid motion, Sevika pulled out her strap. “Where the fuck did that come from ?!” You ask surprised, she definitely didn’t have it in her hands when she came in.

"Don’t worry about that pet, all you have to know is that I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll never forget who owns your lovely body," Sevika declared, her voice dripping with sadistic delight.

And with that, she drove herself down, impaling you on her thick, pulsing shaft in one powerful thrust.

About an hour passed of her ruthless lovemaking before she finally slowed a bit.

Sevika's body shuddered violently, her mechanical arm shaking as it held you in place. A guttural cry tore from her throat as she spilled her release deep inside you, wave after wave of scorching hot fluid flooding your insides.

You let out something between a moan and a scream, your vision blurring at the edges as you are consumed by a mind-numbing orgasm. Your sex clenched and rippled around Sevika's pulsing cock, milking every last drop of the witch's essence.

As the aftershocks subsided, Sevika collapsed onto you, her sweat-drenched body pressing you into the mattress. She nuzzled into the crook of your neck, her hot breath ghosting over your skin.

"That was exquisite," Sevika panted, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Suddenly there was a crack, then a pop. “What was that?” You ask confused and you try to get up. Another crack and then another. Sevika and you look at each other slowly before the bed suddenly breaks under you. “Jesus fuck!” You yelp. “We broke the damn bed,”

Sevika looks away to hide her smirk as she makes her way to the floor. Helping you up and carrying you to the bathroom. “I’ll pay for it later” she reply’s and kisses your head.

So…. I ain’t got nothing to say. Hope it’s good.

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sebian lex #bed breaking #sevika is my wife #sevika is into bigger women in my opinion.

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justanotherrpmeme · 8 months ago

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We Need a Distraction starters

"Quick, we need a distraction to get past those guards!" "Anyone got a plan? We can't just walk in there unnoticed." "I'll create a diversion while you slip through." "I can set off the fire alarm to cause chaos." "Let's stage a fake fight to draw their attention away." "Throw something noisy to get their attention over there." "We could pretend to faint and hope they come to investigate." "I'll flirt with the guards to keep them occupied." "Distract them with a false alarm about an intruder." "I'll provoke them into chasing me, giving you a chance to escape." "How about a distraction involving some fireworks?" "I'll make a scene and get thrown out while you slip past." "Let's pull the old 'look behind you' trick." "Maybe a sudden loud noise will draw them away." "I'll pretend to be lost and lead them on a wild goose chase." "I'll spill something on them to create a distraction." "We could release some animals to cause chaos." "I'll set off some smoke bombs to confuse them." "We need to keep them busy while we make our move." "A well-timed insult might just do the trick."

[ALARM]: The sender discreetly triggers the fire alarm to create chaos and distraction. [FAKE]: The sender and another person stage a fake fight to draw attention away from their objective. [THROWING]: The sender throws a small object in a different direction to divert attention. [FAINTING]: The sender pretends to faint, causing others to rush over and investigate. [FLIRTING]: The sender engages in flirtatious behavior with guards to keep them occupied. [CHASE]: The sender taunts the guards, encouraging them to chase after them while others slip away. [SMOKE]: The sender ignites smoke bombs to create confusion and disorient the someone. [SPILLING]: The sender accidentally spills something on someone to cause a distraction. [PYROTECHNICS]: The sender sets off fireworks or explosives to create a diversion. [LOUD]: The sender engages in a loud argument to attract attention away from others.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starter #rp ask #starter meme

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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The Flames we Loved (to drink poison)

This is one of my darker works. If it's not your cup of tea, skip it. The story gets progressively worse with each chapter. You have been warned.

- Summary: It started with Harrenhal and the year of false spring, where you danced with a dragon trying to calm his flames.

- Pairing: daughter!reader/father!Aerys II Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: to ignite an ember

- Next part: to burn together

- A/N: I've forgotten to mention how timeline has been shifted and plot is all over the place in this AU storyline. Robert's Rebellion will still happen, but not the same year or for the same reason it's in the canon.

The water is scalding as you lower yourself into the bath, the heat biting at your skin, turning it pink. But you don’t flinch. You welcome it, hoping the burn will strip away the weight of everything you’ve carried since Harrenhal. The steam rises around you in thick clouds, curling into the air like smoke, as though trying to obscure your thoughts.

The water immediately turns red, swirling with the blood that had clung to your skin since Aerys had collapsed into your arms. His blood. His madness. His madness that now stains not just your flesh but something deeper. It clings to you, a taint that you can’t seem to wash away, no matter how much you scrub.

You reach for the cloth, dipping it into the water before pressing it against your face, wiping away the streaks of red that have dried on your cheek, your neck, your hands. The motion is automatic, almost mindless, as your thoughts drift back to the moment in the woods—the moment everything began to shift.

There had been something in that moment, a change in the air, in the very fabric of what bound you to the world. You’d felt the fire stir inside you for the first time then. At first, you thought it was just fear, the heat of adrenaline rushing through your veins as you stood before Aerys in the clearing, but it had been more than that. It was like a dormant flame had flickered to life, an ancient fire that you didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

You exhale slowly, the steam rising around you as you submerge the cloth in the water again, pressing it harder against your skin this time, as though you can scrub away the memory itself.

But it lingers.

The bath offers no comfort, only more time for your thoughts to fester, to grow. Every flicker of the candlelight seems to call back to that fire inside you, that unsettling warmth that hadn’t stopped burning since that moment in the woods. Since Aerys had kissed you. Since his blood had stained your skin, and his insanity had seemed to seep into you like poison.

You close your eyes, sinking deeper into the water, the heat enveloping you like a cocoon. But even with your eyes closed, the memories press in—the feeling of Aerys’s fingers on your throat, the soft brush of his lips, the way his madness seemed to cling to every touch. And then there was the fire. That strange, terrifying heat that flickered in your veins, a fire that felt so much like the blood of the dragon, yet not the kind you were born to carry.

You feel it again now, that fire stirring inside you, threatening to rise. It scares you.

Not because of what it might do—but because of how it makes you feel. Alive. Powerful. Like you could control it if you only let it grow, if you only fed it the right fuel. But what happens when a fire grows too large? What happens when it burns everything around it to ash?

You press your hand against your chest, where the warmth seems to pulse beneath your skin. It hasn’t stopped since Harrenhal, and despite your attempts to understand it, you can’t. There’s something more to it—something ancient, something deep in the blood of your family that has been waiting, lying dormant. But why now? Why you?

You think of Rhaegar, his concerned eyes following you since the journey home. He knows something is wrong, that something has changed in you, but he doesn’t know the extent of it. He couldn’t. He’d only try to protect you, to save you from a fire you aren’t sure can be extinguished.

The cloth slips from your hand, falling into the water with a quiet splash, forgotten. You stare at the ripples, watching the way they disturb the surface, the blood-tinged water swirling in delicate patterns. The heat of the bath feels different now—less like a comfort, more like a reminder of that fire inside you, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when it will consume you whole.

For the first time, you wonder if this fire is connected to Aerys. He is consumed by madness, by an obsession with dragons and fire. He talks of visions, of flames and rebirth, of burning the world and rising from the ashes. You always thought it was just the madness—the delusions of a king who had lost control of his mind.

But what if there’s truth to it?

You shake your head, your fingers gripping the edge of the tub as if to ground yourself in the reality of the moment. No. You can’t think like that. You can’t let his madness infect you. But the fire… it’s there. You can feel it. And you don’t know how to control it, how to stop it from spreading.

You lean back against the edge of the bath, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as the water laps gently against your skin. There’s a heaviness in your chest, a weight that settles deep in your bones as you try to make sense of everything. Aerys’s touch, his madness, the fire inside you—it’s all tangled together, like threads in a web that you can’t unravel.

And now, as you sit here, trying to scrub away the blood and the memories, you realize something terrifying: you are afraid. Not just of what Aerys might do, or of the madness that consumes him, but of what’s happening inside you. Of the power that flickers to life every time you feel that fire stir.

You exhale slowly, your breath shaking as you lift your hand to your throat, to where Aerys’s fingers had lingered just hours before. The skin there is clean now, free of his blood, but you can still feel the weight of his touch, the way it had lingered just a little too long. His sickness has infected everything—his kingdom, his family, and now… maybe even you.

But you can’t let it. You won’t.

You rise from the bath, the water dripping from your skin as you step onto the cool stone floor. The servant stands nearby, waiting to tend to you, but you wave her away, your mind too full of the swirling thoughts to deal with anything else right now.

“I’ll manage,” you say quietly, and she bows, retreating from the chamber without a word.

As you dry yourself and dress, your mind remains fixed on the question that has haunted you since Harrenhal. The fire inside you is growing, and you don’t know how to control it. But you must. Because if you don’t, you fear it will burn everything in its path.

And you’re not sure you’ll survive the flames.

The scent of blooming flowers lingers in the air around the garden, but despite the beauty of the day, there’s a sense of unease hanging over everything—Aerys has yet to leave his chambers after yesterday’s violent confrontation with Rhaegar, and the court is holding its breath, waiting for the next eruption.

Your ladies chatter quietly around you, their voices soft and polite, but your mind is elsewhere. The memory of the previous day’s events, of Aerys’s blood on your skin and Rhaegar’s furious departure, still clings to you like a shadow. You’ve barely slept, haunted by the fire that seems to burn hotter inside you with each passing day.

As you walk, your gaze drifts toward a familiar figure standing alone near the edge of the gardens. Rhaegar. His posture is rigid, his back to you as he stares out at the horizon, his long silver hair catching the light of the sun. Even from this distance, you can sense the storm brewing inside him, the unresolved fury that still lingers.

You hesitate for a moment, uncertain whether to approach him. The argument he had with Aerys is still fresh in your mind, and you know he’s been grappling with the aftermath. But you also know Rhaegar—he rarely lets his emotions show, and when he does, it’s only to those closest to him. You’ve always been able to read him better than anyone, and right now, you can tell he needs someone to reach out.

Making your decision, you turn to your ladies. “I’ll return shortly. Please continue your walk without me.”

They nod, bowing slightly before continuing along the path, their voices fading into the background as you make your way toward Rhaegar. The garden feels quieter as you approach, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds the only sounds to accompany your steps. You stop a few paces behind him, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence.

“Rhaegar,” you say softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

He doesn’t turn immediately, but you can see the slight tension in his shoulders, as if your words have drawn him from some deep, troubled thought. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice low and controlled, though there’s an edge of weariness to it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, still not turning to face you. “Not after yesterday.”

You take a step closer, ignoring his attempt to push you away. “I’m worried about you,” you reply, your tone gentle but firm. “You’ve barely left your chambers since the argument with Father. Everyone can see something is wrong.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “And what would you have me say?” he asks quietly, his voice laced with bitterness. “That I can’t bear to look at him? That I fear what he’s become? Or worse… what he’s doing to you?”

The last words hang in the air, cutting through the quiet like a blade. Rhaegar finally turns to face you, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. His indigo eyes, so much like your own, are filled with a pain he can no longer hide.

“I saw you yesterday, after you left his chambers,” he continues, his voice tight. “You were covered in his blood. And yet you comforted him as if nothing was wrong. How long do you intend to play this part, Y/N? How long can you pretend that this… madness won’t destroy us all?”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the sight of the torment in his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’ve been playing a dangerous game, pretending to hold everything together while Aerys’s madness spirals further out of control. But what choice do you have? You are the only one who can calm him, the only one who can keep him from completely unraveling.

“I’m not pretending,” you say softly, taking another step closer. “I know what’s happening, Rhaegar. I see it as clearly as you do. But if I don’t try to hold him together, who will?”

Rhaegar’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “You shouldn’t have to bear this alone,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “This burden is too great, even for you.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand on his arm, offering him the only comfort you can. “I don’t bear it alone,” you say quietly. “I have you. And I know… I know you would stop him if he ever went too far.”

His expression softens, but the conflict remains in his eyes. He knows what you’re asking of him—to stay by your side, to stand against Aerys if the time ever comes. It’s a burden neither of you should have to carry, but the fire that burns in your veins, the blood of the dragon, demands it.

“I swore I would protect you,” he says after a long silence, his voice heavy with the weight of that promise. “Even from him. But, Y/N… there’s something dark stirring inside him. I don’t know if even you can hold it back anymore.”

You lower your gaze, his words cutting through you like ice. You’ve felt it too—the way Aerys’s madness has grown darker, more dangerous, since Harrenhal. There’s a sense of inevitability to it now, a feeling that no matter what you do, the fire will consume everything in its path.

But what Rhaegar doesn’t know, what you can’t bring yourself to tell him, is that the fire is inside you too.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “But I’ll try… for as long as I can.”

Rhaegar steps closer, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. “Don’t lose yourself in his madness, Y/N,” he says softly. “Promise me that.”

You nod, though the promise feels fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. “I promise.”

The garden is quiet around you and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, the weight of the world pressing down but held at bay by the shared understanding between you.

Then, with a sigh, Rhaegar releases you, his gaze drifting back toward the horizon. “He hasn’t left his chambers since yesterday,” he says, his voice returning to its usual calm. “But it’s only a matter of time before he does. We need to be prepared.”

The great hall was alive with the usual hum of conversation, courtiers and nobles gathering in small clusters, speaking in low voices, their faces masked with polite smiles as they exchanged pleasantries and rumors. You stood by Lucerys Velaryon and Symond Staunton, listening to their idle chatter about the matters of Driftmark and the latest gossip from Storm’s End. Despite the appearance of normalcy, there was an underlying dread that no one could ignore, a weight hanging in the air ever since the events at Harrenhal. Since yesterday.

You nodded absently at something Lucerys said, but your eyes were drawn to the entrance of the throne room. The wide doors creaked open, and a hush rippled through the court like a cold wind. Heads turned, whispers falling silent as if the very stones of the Red Keep held their breath.

Aerys had emerged from his chambers.

The sight of him, once so rare, now elicited stunned silence from those who saw him. He strode forward, his silver hair hanging loose and wild around his face, his robe trailing behind him like the shadow of some long-forgotten king. His eyes, sharp and burning with an unsettling intensity, swept across the room, searching. It was as if the air itself had chilled, as if the very presence of the man caused the warmth to drain from the room.

Rhaella, standing near one of the great pillars with her attendants, seemed to shrink into herself, her pale face lowering as if she could hide from his gaze. Without a word, she retreated into the shadows, disappearing into the wings of the court where no one would see the fear in her eyes. Everyone else held their ground, though their discomfort was obvious, their backs stiffening, conversations forgotten.

On the other side of the room, Rhaegar stood with Elia Martell, their children absent from court today. His arm wrapped protectively around Elia’s waist, drawing her closer to him, though anyone who knew them could see the distance that still lingered between them, even when they appeared united before the court. Elia’s face remained composed, her eyes cast downward in a perfect picture of regal calm, but the tension in Rhaegar’s jaw was unmistakable.

Aerys’s gaze fell on them, his lips curling into a thin, twisted smile as he approached. The courtiers parted before him, making way for their king and the members of his Kingsguard, who flanked him with expressions of stoic indifference.

When Aerys reached Rhaegar and Elia, he paused, his eyes narrowing as he took them in. His smile remained, but there was nothing kind or fatherly in it. It was a sneer, a mockery of the family bond that should have existed between them.

“So,” Aerys said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence, “here we have the prince and his Dornish wife. How quaint you both look today.”

Rhaegar’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing. His arm around Elia stiffened, pulling her even closer, though she remained perfectly still, her gaze never leaving the floor.

Aerys’s eyes flicked between them, and his smile grew, a thin veneer of civility barely covering the venom beneath. “Tell me, Rhaegar,” he continued, his tone dripping with thinly veiled scorn, “how does it feel, parading around like the perfect prince with your lovely wife on your arm? Does it make you feel better about your failures? Or are you still playing at the gallant knight, rescuing your dear sister from her poor, mad father?”

The words cut like a blade, though no one dared react. The court stood in stunned silence, the tension thick enough to choke on. Rhaegar’s knuckles turned white as his fingers pressed into Elia’s side, but still, he did not respond. He couldn’t. Not here. Not with Aerys towering over them.

Aerys’s laugh was sharp, brittle, as he glanced at Elia, his smile curling into something cruel. “You must be proud, Princess Elia,” he said with mock sweetness. “Such a fine, noble husband you have. Perhaps he can sing you one of his pretty songs later, soothe away all the… inconveniences of your life.”

Rhaegar’s gaze flickered to Elia, his eyes dark with barely concealed rage, but she remained impassive, her face a mask of composure.

Aerys, satisfied with the reaction—or lack thereof—tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as if he had won some private game. He gave them one last look, as if they were beneath him, then continued forward.

You watched as Aerys approached, the court still parting before him like waves before a storm. You felt your pulse quicken, the familiar unease creeping over you as he made his way toward you, his eyes already locked on yours.

Lucerys and Symond exchanged nervous glances but quickly stepped back as Aerys reached you, leaving you standing alone under the weight of his gaze. His smile softened as he came to a stop before you, though it was no less dangerous, no less unsettling.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice lowering as if only you were meant to hear him. “My sweet daughter. How lovely you look today, mingling with your… courtiers.” His gaze flicked briefly to Lucerys and Symond, who had retreated to a respectful distance, before settling back on you. “Are they keeping you entertained?”

There was a hidden edge to his words, one that made your skin prickle. You held his gaze, forcing a smile even as your heart pounded in your chest. “They are, Father,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nerves twisting inside you. “They have been speaking of the news from the Stormlands and Driftmark.”

Aerys’s smile widened, but there was something predatory in it. He reached out, brushing a strand of your hair back from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin longer than necessary. “Ah, such trivial matters. It’s good to see that you remain… involved in the politics of the realm.”

You felt the familiar weight of his touch, the way it lingered, the way it unsettled you in ways you couldn’t explain. His blood had stained your skin just the day before, and now, here he was again, treating you as if nothing had changed, as if the violence and madness hadn’t left their marks on you both.

The courtiers watched, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and discomfort, but none of them would dare speak. Aerys was still their king, and you were still his daughter, the one person who could calm the storm that constantly brewed in his soul.

Aerys’s gaze flickers away from you and turns to Lucerys Velaryon and Symond Staunton, who both stand stiff and silent, their expressions wary. And you can see the nervous glance that Lucerys shoots toward Symond, both of them knowing that an encounter with Aerys rarely ends well.

"So," Aerys drawls, his voice deceptively soft, laced with a hint of mockery. "You two gentlemen seem to be discussing quite a bit. Matters of state, I assume? What pressing concerns have you brought to my court today?"

Lucerys clears his throat, his expression careful. “Your Grace, we have been discussing matters regarding Driftmark and the Stormlands,” he says evenly. “Trade routes, shipping regulations, and other such concerns.”

Aerys tilts his head, his sharp eyes boring into Lucerys as if he’s dissecting him. "Ah, yes. The tedious business of ships and tariffs. Fascinating, truly." His smile is tight, and you can feel the tension in the air shift as he continues. "But I wonder... while you’re here, what do you think of my daughter?"

The question drops like a stone into the silence, and Lucerys and Symond exchange a quick, startled glance. The court is silent, eyes flickering between Aerys, you, and the two men, as if waiting for something—anything—to break this moment. Aerys’s question is more than it seems; it feels like a trap, one of the many that Aerys often sets when he grows bored. He’s searching for something, some flicker of weakness or fear to exploit.

Lucerys shifts uncomfortably, his lips parting slightly before he answers, carefully choosing his words. “Princess Y/N is a credit to her family, Your Grace,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “She is admired by many and respected by all who meet her.”

Symond nods in agreement, his face pale. "Yes, Your Grace. A true Targaryen, through and through."

Aerys’s smile sharpens, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Admired? Respected?" he echoes, his voice carrying an edge of mockery. "That’s all you have to say about her?"

You feel your stomach twist, the trap tightening around Lucerys and Symond as they stand before your father. Aerys isn’t satisfied with their answers—he wants more. He always wants more. You know where this is leading, the dark amusement flickering in his eyes as he toys with the two men before him. He’s looking for any sign of hesitation, any slight crack he can exploit.

You step closer to him, your hand gently tugging on the sleeve of his robe, like a child seeking her father’s attention. "Father," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to divert his attention away from Lucerys and Symond. "Perhaps we should let them return to their duties. I’m sure there are many matters awaiting their attention."

Aerys’s eyes flick down to you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before the corners of his mouth lift in a thin, almost indulgent smile. But you can see the glint of something darker in his gaze. He’s not ready to let this moment go, not yet.

"Oh, my dear," he says, his tone dripping with false affection. "But I am curious. Don’t you want to hear what they truly think of you?"

You feel your pulse quicken, your fingers tightening on the sleeve of his robe. "I know what they think, Father," you reply, keeping your voice steady. "They’ve always shown me nothing but respect."

Aerys hums in mock agreement, but his gaze returns to Lucerys and Symond, who are standing as still as statues, clearly uncertain how to proceed. "Respect," Aerys repeats, almost thoughtfully. "But respect can be such a hollow thing, don’t you think?" His eyes narrow, and his smile grows more dangerous. "What I want to know is... do you find her worthy of being a Targaryen?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and ominous. Lucerys looks as though he’s been struck, his mouth opening slightly before he snaps it shut again, clearly realizing that any answer he gives could spell disaster. Symond, on the other hand, seems to have paled even more, his eyes darting nervously between you and Aerys.

"Your Grace," Lucerys begins carefully, "Princess Y/N is a Targaryen through and through, as I said. She embodies the strength and grace of your House."

Symond quickly nods in agreement, adding, "She is the blood of the dragon, Your Grace. There is no doubt of her worth."

Aerys chuckles softly, clearly entertained by their discomfort. He turns to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm, almost possessive. "There, you see, daughter?" he says, his voice deceptively light. "They think very highly of you. And yet, I wonder... how much of it is fear? How much of it is respect, and how much is simply the fear of what I might do if they said otherwise?"

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, but you keep your expression calm. "Fear and respect are not so different, Father," you say quietly, choosing your words carefully. "But it is respect that endures."

Aerys’s smile fades slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far, if your attempt to soothe him has only provoked him. But then, just as quickly, his expression shifts, amusement returning to his face as he lets out a short, sharp laugh.

"Perhaps," he says, his grip on your shoulder loosening. He turns back to Lucerys and Symond, waving a hand dismissively. "You may go. But do not forget who holds your respect."

Lucerys and Symond bow deeply, their faces tight with relief as they quickly back away, disappearing into the crowd of courtiers that has begun to stir again now that Aerys’s attention has shifted. You can feel the eyes of the court on you, their curiosity piqued by the exchange, but no one dares to speak. No one dares to intervene when it comes to the king and his daughter.

Aerys’s hand remains on your shoulder for a moment longer, his fingers lingering as if savoring the control he holds over you, over everyone. Finally, he releases you, his gaze softening in a way that is almost paternal—but you know better. The moment of amusement has passed, and for now, he seems satisfied.

"Come, daughter," he says, his voice almost gentle as he begins to walk away. "We have more important matters to attend to."

You follow him, your heart still racing, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

The dark, foreboding atmosphere of the Throne Room loomed ahead as Aerys strode purposefully toward the Iron Throne, his twisted smile flickering in the low light that filtered through the high, narrow windows. You followed closely behind, your footsteps echoing in the vast hall. This was the place where Aerys’s madness was most potent, where his darkest fantasies and cruelest decisions were brought to life.

The court lingered in the shadows, their faces pale, their movements stiff with barely concealed fear. None would speak out against the king; none would dare. You knew the horror that awaited, the kind of spectacle your father relished. The Iron Throne, jagged and monstrous, loomed before you, casting its sharp shadows over the cold stone floor. Aerys ascended the steps with slow, deliberate precision, his wild silver hair framing his face like a dark halo, and as he sat upon the throne, he seemed almost like a creature born of the metal itself.

Without looking back at you, Aerys gestured for you to join him. You hesitated for only a moment before following his command, climbing the steps to stand beside him. As you reached him, his hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. His touch was rough as he brought you nearer, his lips grazing your ear in a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Stay with me, my sweet,” he murmured, his voice too soft, too affectionate, a sickening contrast to the madness simmering in his eyes. “Watch with me. You’ll see just how weak men are when they face true fire.”

Before you could respond, Aerys’s attention shifted. He lifted his hand, signaling to Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who stood at the entrance to the hall. “Bring him in,” Aerys commanded, his voice carrying the weight of impending doom.

A few tense moments passed before the heavy doors opened, and Lord Ethen Brax was dragged into the Throne Room, his wrists bound, his face pale with fear. His clothes were dirtied, his steps stumbling as he was forced forward by two guards. The court watched in uneasy silence, their gazes flicking nervously between the king and the prisoner.

Aerys’s grip on your arm tightened, pulling you even closer, nearly into his lap. You could feel the sharp edges of the Iron Throne digging into your side as you tried to remain composed, despite the horror unfolding before you. The king leaned toward you again, his breath warm against your cheek. “You see, my dear? They’re all so afraid. Afraid of what I can do. Afraid of what we can do.”

Lord Ethen was brought before the Iron Throne, forced to his knees. He trembled as he looked up at Aerys, his lips moving as though trying to form words, but nothing coherent came out. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable—he knew what was coming.

Aerys leaned back, surveying the broken man before him with cold amusement. “Do you know why you’re here, Lord Brax?” he asked, his voice a mockery of curiosity.

Lord Ethen stammered, his words incoherent, his mouth moving as though trying to explain himself, but fear had stolen any sense he might have possessed.

“Speak up!” Aerys barked suddenly, his voice sharp as a blade. The entire hall flinched at the outburst, save for you, though your heart pounded in your chest.

“I—I don’t…” Lord Ethen mumbled, his eyes darting from Aerys to the ground beneath him.

Aerys’s lips twisted into a cruel grin. “Your crime, Lord Brax,” he began slowly, drawing out the moment as if savoring it, “is conspiring against your king. Plotting to poison your lord, to overthrow the Targaryen bloodline. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” His voice dripped with menace as he spoke, each word deliberate, designed to crush any semblance of hope Lord Ethen might have clung to.

Lord Ethen’s face drained of color, his mouth moving soundlessly as he shook his head. “N-no, Your Grace, I—I would never—”

“Silence!” Aerys roared, rising from the Iron Throne so quickly that his robe billowed around him like the wings of a great beast. “You know the punishment for treason, do you not?”

The hall was deathly silent, save for the sound of Lord Ethen’s ragged breathing. You closed your eyes for just a moment, knowing all too well where this was going. Aerys had indulged in many cruel spectacles, but it had been some time since he had publicly entertained his darker impulses. And now, it seemed, that hunger had returned with full force.

“Pyromancers,” Aerys called out, his voice dripping with anticipation, “bring them in.”

The doors opened again, and two men clad in the dark robes of the Guild of Pyromancers entered the Throne Room, carrying with them small vials of wildfire, their faces alight with the prospect of destruction. You could feel the atmosphere in the room shift, the air growing thick with fear. The court had seen Aerys do terrible things in the name of power, but the sight of the pyromancers always brought with it a sense of inevitable, irreversible terror.

Aerys’s grip on you tightened, pulling you intimately close, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he leaned in to whisper again. “Watch, my sweet. Watch what true fire can do. Don’t look away, or you’ll regret it.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you knew that to show any sign of weakness now would only provoke his wrath. He would force you to endure this spectacle, and if you faltered, if you showed even a flicker of resistance, he would punish you in ways you could not bear to imagine.

Lord Ethen, now visibly shaking, tried to speak again, but his words were drowned out by Aerys’s command. “Do you know what wildfire does to a man, Lord Brax?” Aerys asked, his voice almost gleeful. “It burns hotter than any fire. It doesn’t just consume the flesh—it consumes the soul.”

You felt your throat tighten, the weight of Aerys’s words pressing down on you as the pyromancers began their preparations. The vials of wildfire were brought forward, gleaming with their sickly green hue, and Lord Ethen’s pleas turned to desperate sobs.

Aerys’s grip remained firm, his body pressed too closely against yours, his breath hot and stifling as he whispered, “Don’t look away, Y/N. Watch. Watch what we are capable of.”

You kept your eyes open, the horror unfolding before you like a nightmare you couldn’t escape, your body rigid as Aerys held you in place, forcing you to witness the destruction he so relished.

And all you could do was endure it.

Aerys’s eyes gleamed with a fevered light as he raised his hand, his long fingers curling into a gesture that held within it the weight of doom. The pyromancers stood at attention, their faces hidden in the deep shadows of their robes, but you could sense their anticipation. The entire court had grown unnaturally still, the air charged with an unspoken horror, as they awaited the king’s command.

“Light it,” Aerys said, his voice thick with exhilaration, the words dripping like venom.

The pyromancers moved quickly, uncorking the vials of wildfire and setting the volatile liquid ablaze. In an instant, green flames roared to life, their sickly glow filling the Throne Room with an unnatural brightness that seemed to warp the very air. The heat was immense, and yet Aerys’s presence beside you, pressing against you, was even more suffocating.

You felt his excitement in every tremor of his body as he leaned down, his face far too close to yours, the sharp edges of his beard scratching against your skin. His breath, hot and ragged, brushed against your cheek as he whispered, “Do you feel it, Y/N? The power? This is what we are capable of.”

The fire in front of you consumed everything, the heat rising in great, violent waves as Lord Ethen screamed—his voice swallowed by the flames. The green fire twisted and leapt toward the vaulted ceiling, and the sight of it was both mesmerizing and horrifying. But more horrifying still was the sensation of Aerys’s hands roaming over you, his fingers brushing against your waist, your hip, with a feverish intensity that made your skin crawl. His touch was possessive, intimate in a way that was meant to remind you that there was no escape—not from him, and not from this moment.

You caught the fleeting sight of Varys, his soft, padded steps retreating into the shadows of the room, as though the spectacle was too much even for him to bear. Nearby, Ser Jaime Lannister, usually so composed, had turned his head slightly, his jaw clenched tight as he refused to look at the gruesome scene. But there was no such reprieve for you. You had to watch.

Aerys’s hand slid higher, his grip tightening, pulling you closer to him as if the flames that roared before you weren’t enough to feed his lust for destruction. You did everything in your power to keep still, to remain composed, to suppress the urge to pull away or flinch under his touch. But the heat, the sight of Lord Ethen writhing in agony, and the oppressive weight of Aerys’s presence began to erode the control you had fought so hard to maintain.

The wildfire danced higher, casting grotesque shadows across the room. And then it happened—that familiar, unsettling shift inside you, the one that had begun at Harrenhal, the one that seemed to flicker to life whenever Aerys was near. A strange warmth pulsed through your veins, a fire of your own, something ancient and primal stirring beneath the surface. It frightened you, how it seemed to rise in response to his madness, how it threatened to consume you just as the wildfire consumed Lord Ethen.

A small, involuntary shudder escaped your lips, a tremor so subtle that you might have thought it went unnoticed.

But Aerys noticed.

His head turned toward you, his mouth so close to your ear that you could feel the twisted smile forming on his lips. “Ah, so you do feel it,” he whispered, his voice mocking, almost cruel. “You pretend to be so strong, so composed, but even you can’t hide it. The fire burns in you too, doesn’t it?”

His words, laced with a twisted sense of triumph, sent a cold chill through you despite the unbearable heat of the flames. He had caught the weakness in that moment, the crack in your armor, and he reveled in it. His hand slid higher, his grip possessive as his fingers dug into your side, his touch almost bruising. He didn’t need to look at you; his gaze remained locked on the flames as they danced higher, his excitement growing with each flicker of destruction.

“You try so hard to deny it,” he continued, his tone shifting from mockery to something more intimate. “But you can’t. Not anymore. The fire in you is the same as mine. You’re as much a dragon as I am, no matter how much you pretend otherwise.”

The words stung, cutting deep in a way you hadn’t expected. Because in some terrible, unspoken way, you feared he was right. The fire inside you—whatever it was—had begun to take root. It was growing, feeding off the madness around you, and no matter how hard you tried to suppress it, to bury it, you couldn’t escape its pull.

Aerys’s hand pressed harder against you, his excitement palpable. “Look at him,” he whispered, his voice thick with cruelty. “Look at what we’ve done. This is the power of fire and blood.”

You opened your eyes, forcing yourself to look at the spectacle before you, the green flames consuming what remained of Lord Ethen Brax. His body was nothing but ash now, his screams long since silenced, but the fire raged on, consuming everything in its path. And as you stared into the heart of the wildfire, you felt something inside you break further—some fragile piece of you that had held on for so long now slipping away, consumed by the flames just as Ethen had been.

Aerys’s hand moved to your throat, his grip gentle but terrifyingly intimate still, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your neck. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice both a claim and a warning. “You’ve always been mine. No matter how much you fight it.”

You felt the weight of those words pressing down on you, the knowledge that there was no escaping him. No matter what you did, no matter how much you tried to resist, he would always find a way to pull you back into his madness.

And in that moment, as the flames continued to rise, you realized that something inside you had irrevocably changed. Something had broken, something fragile and precious that could never be repaired.

And you didn’t know if you would ever feel whole again.

The sound of rushing footsteps echoed through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, the frantic energy of courtiers and small council members visible as they moved toward the Throne Room. But Rhaegar was ahead of them all, his mind filled with a growing fear, his heart hammering in his chest. He already knew what awaited him. He had heard the rumors, the whispers of wildfire and screams. Of his father indulging his madness once more.

And though the other lords—the ever-watchful Tywin Lannister, Grand Maester Pycelle , and others—hurried after him, he knew deep down that no one in that room had the power to stop Aerys. No one but his sister.

His sister. You.

As Rhaegar neared the Throne Room, the great iron doors loomed before him like the jaws of a beast ready to devour all who dared enter. He hesitated only for a second, steeling himself for what lay beyond, before pushing the doors open.

The scene inside hit him like a blow to the chest.

The last flames of wildfire flickered and died, leaving behind nothing but smoldering ash where Lord Ethen Brax had once been. The pungent, acrid smell of burned flesh hung in the air, a sickening reminder of the horrors that had just unfolded. The courtiers were silent, their faces pale and their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and revulsion. And at the center of it all, his father sat upon the Iron Throne, his wild eyes gleaming with triumph.

And you. His sister, standing so close to Aerys, held tight in his grasp as if you were an extension of his insanity. Your face, usually calm and controlled, held something else now—something Rhaegar had never seen before. Not fear, not pain. But something darker. Resignation, perhaps. Or worse, acceptance.

For a moment, Rhaegar couldn’t move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you in Aerys’s grip, standing by his side as though you were part of this terrible spectacle. The look in your eyes, distant and haunted, sent a chill through him.

Tywin Lannister entered the room shortly after, followed by the other lords of the small council, their expressions tight with suppressed emotion. They were here out of duty, yes, but also to ensure that Aerys’s madness did not spread further than it already had. Yet Rhaegar knew—as did they—that none of them could stop this. They had allowed it for far too long.

No, if anyone had the power to calm the storm that raged within Aerys, it had always been you. You were the one who could reach him when no one else could. But as Rhaegar stood there, watching the way Aerys’s fingers traced your arm, the way his gaze lingered on you like a possessive shadow, he saw the truth.

You couldn’t reach him anymore.

And worse—perhaps you no longer wanted to.

Rhaegar’s heart sank as he saw the distance in your eyes, the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away as Aerys held you close. His father’s madness had infected everything, twisting what should have been a bond of love into something grotesque. Aerys hadn’t just taken hold of the throne; he had taken hold of you.

Tywin Lannister, ever careful, stepped forward, his face an impenetrable mask of composure. “Your Grace,” he said smoothly, his voice respectful but firm, “the spectacle is over. The court awaits your further instructions.”

Aerys didn’t respond at first. His eyes were still on you, as though you were the only thing that existed in the room. His fingers curled around your arm, almost reverently, and for a moment, Rhaegar thought his father might refuse to acknowledge anyone else. Aerys’s face twisted with something like affection as he pulled you even closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a kiss that felt more like a brand.

It was almost tender, almost loving—if not for the horror that burned beneath it.

Rhaegar clenched his fists, every instinct within him screaming to intervene, to pull you away from this grotesque display. But something in your eyes stopped him. You weren’t fighting. You weren’t resisting. And in that terrible moment, he understood. Something inside you had broken. Whatever hope had remained that you could save Aerys, that you could continue to pull him back from the edge, was gone.

Aerys finally shifted his gaze, his eyes flickering toward Tywin as though noticing him for the first time. The king’s lips curled into a sneer, but he didn’t let go of you. “Ah, Tywin,” Aerys drawled, his voice thick with mockery. “Always so eager to serve.”

Tywin’s expression remained unchanged, though Rhaegar could see the faint tightening of his jaw. “Your Grace,” Tywin said, bowing his head slightly, “the court awaits your judgment.”

For a moment, Aerys remained still, his grip on you unyielding. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, he released you, though his fingers lingered as if he were unwilling to fully let go. His eyes flickered over you one last time, filled with something dark and possessive, before he turned his attention to the room at large.

But not before pressing a kiss to your temple—one more act of twisted devotion.

Only then did Aerys rise from the Iron Throne, his long robes sweeping the floor as he began to descend the steps, his focus shifting from you to the lords who waited below. His movements were deliberate, every step filled with the arrogance of a king who believed himself untouchable.

As Aerys descended, you remained frozen in place, standing at the foot of the Iron Throne as though rooted to the spot. Rhaegar took a step forward, his heart heavy as he met your gaze. And in that moment, he saw everything he had feared reflected back at him. The sister he had always known—the strong, composed woman who had fought so hard to keep their family together—was gone.

What remained was something else. Something fractured.

Tywin, ever the master of diplomacy, approached Aerys carefully, bowing his head in deference. “Your Grace,” he said quietly, “the court thanks you for your mercy in dispensing justice.”

Aerys’s lips twitched into a smile, though there was no warmth in it. “Mercy?” he repeated, his voice lilting with amusement. “I think not, Tywin. But they should be grateful. For I am the last dragon, and the fire that burns in me is what will keep them all in line.”

Rhaegar watched as Tywin nodded, his face carefully neutral. The lord had seen enough of Aerys’s madness to know how to navigate it, how to speak the words that would keep the king placated, if only for a little while longer.

But as Aerys turned, his attention now fully on the throne room’s courtiers, Rhaegar’s eyes flicked back to you. You were still standing there, still not moving. And in that moment, he knew.

His sister—the only one who had ever been able to stop Aerys—was slipping away.

And there was nothing he could do to save you.

The sound of the doors closing behind Aerys echoed faintly in your ears, though it seemed distant, muted, as though you were underwater. The world around you had taken on a strange, dreamlike quality, as if everything were moving just slightly slower than it should. You stood there, at the foot of the Iron Throne, your body rigid, your mind racing, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.

Your heart beat in your chest, a frantic rhythm you couldn’t quite calm. The air in the Throne Room felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were pressing in on you. You wanted to move, to leave, but your legs refused to obey, as though they had forgotten how to function.

For the first time, you felt truly paralyzed.

You had always been able to handle Aerys’s madness before. You had been the one to stand by his side, to soothe him when others couldn’t, to pull him back from the brink when his rage threatened to consume him. You had been strong, composed—always in control. But now, that control had slipped through your fingers like sand, and you couldn’t grasp it again, no matter how hard you tried.

Your skin still burned where his fingers had touched you, where his lips had pressed against your temple. The kiss had been so gentle, so reverent, and yet it had filled you with a sickening sense of violation. You had felt his madness in that touch, the possessiveness, the cruelty wrapped in affection. And for the first time, you hadn’t flinched.

That scared you more than anything.

You stood frozen in place, staring at the ground where the last embers of wildfire had died, where the ashes of Lord Ethen Brax still lingered in the air. The memory of the flames, of Aerys’s voice whispering in your ear, still echoed in your mind, playing over and over again. You had stood there, at his side, while he indulged in one of his darkest fantasies, and you had done nothing.

You hadn’t tried to stop him.

You hadn’t wanted to stop him.

A shiver ran through you, cold and unfamiliar, despite the warmth of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the images to fade, but they refused to leave. The fire, the screams, Aerys’s hand on your arm, holding you close as if you were his anchor to reality. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, suffocating. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

For so long, you had been the one to control him, to temper his madness. You had been the one to stop him when no one else could. But now, you weren’t sure if you could even stop yourself.

The fire inside you—that fire—had been there since Harrenhal. You had felt it stir, felt it rise in response to Aerys’s madness, to the heat of the wildfire, to the sight of destruction. And today… today, it had grown stronger. It had fed off the flames, off Aerys’s touch, and for a brief, horrifying moment, you had felt a flicker of power.

You had enjoyed it.

The thought made you sick, made your stomach twist in knots, but it was the truth. You couldn’t deny it, couldn’t run from it. You had felt something shift inside you, something you had never wanted to acknowledge. Something that had always been there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to break free.

Was this what Aerys had felt all those years ago, when his madness had first taken root? Was this what it meant to be a dragon, to feel the fire burning so fiercely in your veins that you could no longer control it? Was this your fate, too?

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart, trying to ground yourself in the present. But the fear remained, gnawing at the edges of your mind, a constant reminder that something had broken inside you today. Something that might never be repaired.

You had always known there was darkness in Aerys, a madness that would one day consume him entirely. But you had never thought that it might consume you as well.

I’m not like him, you told yourself, though the words rang hollow in your mind. I’m not.

But even as you tried to reassure yourself, you felt the weight of doubt pressing down on you, suffocating you. You had felt that fire, had felt the power that came with it, and you couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t excited you, even if only for a moment.

What terrified you the most was the realization that perhaps—just perhaps—Aerys had been right. The fire in your veins was the same as his. You had always prided yourself on your ability to control it, to keep it at bay, but what if you couldn’t anymore? What if the fire consumed you, just as it had consumed him?

The door to the Throne Room creaked open behind you, the sound snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned slightly, your heart lurching in your chest, but it was only a servant, timid and quiet, waiting for you to dismiss them. You nodded faintly, signaling that you would leave soon, and the servant retreated quickly, leaving you alone once more.

Alone with your thoughts. Alone with your fears.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to move, to step away from the Iron Throne, away from the scene of destruction. But even as you walked, the weight of what had happened clung to you like a shadow, following your every step. The memory of Aerys’s hand on your arm, his voice in your ear, his lips pressing against your temple—it all lingered, refusing to fade.

You had stood there and watched as Aerys destroyed a man in the name of power. You had watched, and you had felt something stir inside you, something dark and dangerous. And now, you weren’t sure who you were anymore.

You had always been the one to save him. But now… who would save you?

The fire burned inside you, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

The candles in your chambers flickered gently, casting a soft glow as you prepared for bed. Your hands moved with automatic precision, brushing through your hair, smoothing out the fabric of your nightdress, though your mind was elsewhere. The events of the day replayed in your head, a twisted loop that refused to fade. Aerys’s wild laughter, the heat of the wildfire, the sight of Lord Brax consumed by flames—each memory clawed at your thoughts, refusing to let go.

You had hoped that retreating to your chambers would give you a moment of peace, but the weight of what had happened still pressed down on you, leaving you restless, uneasy. The fire that had stirred within you earlier still lingered, a strange warmth that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and before you could respond, a servant entered, their face pale and expression tight.

“Your Grace,” they said quietly, bowing their head. “The king has summoned you to his chambers.”

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t the first time Aerys had called for you late at night—he often did, seeking you out when he felt the weight of his own madness pressing too heavily on his shoulders. You had grown accustomed to it, to sitting by his side as he spoke in circles about the burdens of kingship, the threats to House Targaryen, and the endless schemes he crafted to keep his enemies at bay. But tonight… something felt different. Off.

You swallowed the unease that rose in your throat and nodded to the servant. “Thank you. I’ll go at once.”

As the servant retreated, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. This was nothing new, you reminded yourself. You had done this countless times before. But as you made your way to Aerys’s chambers, a nagging feeling gnawed at the back of your mind. He had never called for you in the immediate aftermath of one of his wildfire burnings. There was something about tonight that felt… wrong.

When you reached the king’s chambers, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Arthur Dayne stood outside the door, their faces impassive as always. They had seen you come and go from the king’s chambers many times before, and they made no comment as they opened the door for you.

The heavy door closed behind you with a soft thud, and you stepped into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of wine and smoke, and the flickering light from the hearth cast long shadows across the stone walls. Aerys was seated near the fire, a goblet of wine in his hand, his silver hair falling in wild disarray around his face.

He looked up as you entered, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Ah, my daughter,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, but there was a strange edge to it tonight, a tension that set your nerves on edge. “Come. Sit with me.”

You approached him cautiously, the unease from earlier growing stronger with each step. Aerys extended a hand, gesturing to the goblet of wine beside him. “Join me for a drink,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “We have much to discuss.”

You took the offered goblet, though your hand trembled slightly as you did. Sitting beside him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was different from all the other nights he had summoned you. The air between you felt charged, as though something unspoken hung in the space between the two of you.

Aerys took a slow sip of his wine, watching you intently over the rim of his cup. His gaze lingered on you in a way that made your skin prickle, though you kept your expression carefully neutral.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aerys began, his voice soft but weighted, “about our family. About our blood. About the fire that burns within us.”

Your pulse quickened as he spoke, the memory of the wildfire from earlier that day still fresh in your mind. You remained silent, waiting for him to continue, though you could already sense where his thoughts were leading.

“We are the last dragons,” he murmured, his eyes drifting to the fire as it crackled and spat in the hearth. “You and I. The others… they do not understand. They are too weak. Too frightened. But you, my daughter… you understand. Don’t you?”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. You had heard these words before—Aerys had spoken them many times, weaving grand fantasies of fire and power, of a future where House Targaryen would rise again in flames. But tonight, there was something different in his tone. Something darker.

His hand, which had rested on the arm of his chair, began to move, sliding over your leg, his touch slow and deliberate. The movement sent a shiver through you, but you forced yourself to remain still, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You are my greatest weapon,” Aerys said softly, his fingers trailing higher, his gaze never leaving your face. “You have always been the one I could trust. The one who could carry the flame.”

His words, meant to be affectionate, felt like a heavy chain wrapping around you, binding you tighter to his madness. You could feel his breath on your neck, his touch growing more intimate, more invasive, as his hand slid further up your thigh. It took every ounce of control not to pull away, not to recoil from the weight of his attention.

“I have plans for us,” Aerys continued, his voice almost reverent. “Plans that will ensure our House reigns for a thousand years. And you, my sweet daughter… you will be at my side through it all.”

Your throat tightened as his hand gripped your leg, the intimacy of his touch sending a wave of revulsion through you. But you couldn’t show it. You couldn’t let him see the fear that was clawing at your chest, the horror that was slowly creeping into your veins.

Instead, you took a slow breath, keeping your voice as steady as you could. “What… what plans, Father?”

Aerys smiled, his hand moving dangerously higher, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, you’ll see,” he whispered, his voice low and fervent. “Together, we will burn away all the weakness in this world. We will be the fire that consumes it.”

His hand slid higher still, and a cold wave of realization washed over you. This was no longer the Aerys you had once known, no longer the man you had been able to reach. His madness had taken him beyond your grasp, beyond anyone’s. And now, there was no escape from the flames he had set alight—not for him, and not for you.

You stared into the fire, feeling its heat, feeling the weight of his touch, and for the first time, you wondered if you had already been consumed by the very flames you had spent so long trying to control.

Aerys’s voice droned on, growing softer, more intimate, with each passing second. His words were unsettling, woven with both longing and madness, and you barely registered them as his hand slid higher along your leg, more intrusively now, the weight of his touch unbearable. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the room, creating an eerie dance of light and dark that seemed to mirror the dangerous game you found yourself trapped in.

Your body tensed involuntarily, a small, instinctive flinch at the intimacy of his hand. Aerys noticed immediately, his fingers curling tighter around your thigh, and without warning, he yanked you to your feet, pulling you harshly against him. The sudden movement made you gasp softly, though you suppressed the sound as quickly as it escaped. His breath was hot against your face as he pulled you closer, so close that you could feel the erratic rhythm of his chest rising and falling.

His wild eyes burned with something feral as he leaned in, his face mere inches from yours, the scent of wine thick on his breath. The feverish intensity in his gaze was almost unbearable, and you struggled to keep your composure. But his words… his words sent shivers down your spine, each one more twisted than the last.

“You… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Aerys whispered, his voice low and trembling with a mixture of desire and madness. “For years, I’ve imagined… so many things, my sweet daughter. All the things I would do to you if only you were mine—truly mine.”

His words felt like a knife twisting in your gut, and you closed your eyes, fighting the urge to recoil. Your mind raced, desperately searching for some way out, some way to stop what was happening, but there was nothing. You were trapped here, trapped by his madness, trapped by your duty. Trapped by the fire that now consumed you both.

Aerys’s breath brushed against your lips, his fingers tightening on your waist as he pressed you harder against him. You felt the heat of his body, the wildness of his heart, and yet something inside you refused to fight back. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Perhaps it was the weight of years spent trying to pull him back from the brink. Or perhaps it was something darker—something broken inside you, something you couldn’t name.

When you opened your eyes again, Aerys’s gaze was still fixed on you, burning with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. The madness in his eyes had not wavered, but there was something else there now, too. A flicker of vulnerability, of desperation. He had crossed a line from which there would be no return, and you could see that he knew it, even if he couldn’t admit it.

A great sadness passed through you, heavy and overwhelming, for both of you. For the father who had once been a king, now reduced to this—a creature consumed by his own demons. And for yourself, the daughter who had always tried to be strong, who had fought to hold onto the man he used to be. But in this moment, with his lips so close to yours, his madness pressing against your skin, you realized the truth.

There was no saving him. And maybe, there was no saving yourself.

Your hand lifted almost of its own accord, fingers trembling slightly as you reached up to caress his cheek. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, and outwardly it appeared like an act of reassurance, of comfort. But inside, it was something else. A final act of surrender, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable.

Aerys’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he leaned into your touch, his breath hitching slightly at the contact. And then, without warning, he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss in the woods, frantic and rough. This time, it was different—softer, but no less terrifying. His lips moved against yours with an unsettling reverence, as though you were something holy, something precious. You didn’t fight it this time. You didn’t push him away. You simply stood there, letting it happen, your mind numb and your heart heavy.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly behind you, the only sound in the room save for your shallow breathing and the steady thrum of Aerys’s heartbeat against your chest. His kiss deepened, and still, you did nothing. You had fought for so long, but now… now you were tired. So very tired.

When Aerys finally pulled away, his lips lingering just a moment longer than they should have, he didn’t look at you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath ragged and uneven. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, his grip tight, as though he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

“We will burn the world together,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You and I. The last dragons.”

You closed your eyes again, unable to respond. The sadness inside you had grown too large, too consuming, and you could no longer find the words to fight against the tide. You simply stood there, letting his words wash over you like a wave, knowing that they would drown you both in the end.

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